I must say... that is pretty darn amazing poetry. Rushing to read more...


ALL SOULS' DAY

Say November woods.
Say the colors of earth: ocher, sienna,
umber, a hearth where the fire's gone out.
Wind scours trees to their bones. A chevron
of geese cuts a wedge in the sky. Imagine
a hawk the color of winter. On the day
of the dead, he seeks a thermal and soars.
The dead rise, too, will-o-the-wisps
of mist & haze, tobacco smoke from Indian
pipes, the plumes of tall grasses.
They are always with us,
tangible as breath,
fill the interstices of then and now.
In the November woods, cold air
settles like a blanket.
The sky tucks itself in.
Everywhere, the silence
of all the folded wings.
~Barbara Crooker

Oh I love her poetry. It's not familiar to me here in my climate... all that talk of cold and woods and silence and folded wings.
It reminded me to go to my books and find a book that Tam once gave me. Many of you would remember Tam. It's called the Wisconsin Almanac and for November it says...

November

When Air gets light,
The glass falls low,
Batten down tight,
For the winds will blow
~ old sailor's proverb

by Hal Sirowitz

Don't think you know everything,
Father said, just because you're good
with words. They aren't everything.
I try to say the smallest amount possible.
Instead of using them indiscriminately
I try to conserve them. I'm the only one
in this household who recycles them. I
say the same thing over & over again,
like "Who forgot to turn out the lights?
Who forgot to clean up after themselves
in the bathroom?" Since you don't listen
I never have to think of other things to say.

by Linda Pastan

How separate we are
under our black umbrellas—dark
planets in our own small orbits,

hiding from this wet assault
of weather as if water
would violate the skin,

as if these raised silk canopies
could protect us
from whatever is coming next—

December with its white
enamel surfaces; the numbing
silences of winter.

From above we must look
like a family of bats—
ribbed wings spread

against the rain,
swooping towards any
makeshift shelter.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BjJ2gKcO71M

Thanks David!

I loved the vidio, even in the middle of your own trauma, you take time out to reach out to others. It was a beautiful Vidio, and I know it will touch alot of people too. I am thinking of your husband Alffe, still sending those healing thoughts his way. ginnie

A poem i entered into a competition is being published.

its about a Soldier in the First World War in the trenches



Entrenched Senses:


Flash! A halo of yellow white light
Resonant cracking sounds of pop and thud
Acrid; Smokey stench of deathly mud.

Instantaneous sulphuric tang akin
Translucent feelings intense pain left within.
Vivid instant thoughts from home seep in.

Deep and profound unease, of foreboding woe
Visionary and pleading words make Amends aglow
Fleeting life, demised, a pause:
The Soul transcends or so seems so

by David

David

Soulful....I especially love the title...and I think of your father....congratulations on being published....

poetry speaks to the language of the soul. thank you ginnie

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0699bczcS0

I'm speechless! She is 3 1/2 yrs old!

http://www.youtube.com/embed/MDOrzF7B2Kg

had to save it somewhere!