Wonderful: Exploring Why I Write – Entry I

It’s Sunday morning. My family and I are usually getting ready for church. It’s my job to get my son (8) dressed in churchy clothes. I also comb his hair. It’s my wife’s job to critique my work. Do his clothes match? Does his hair look good? It’s a system, a good system, a routine that I enjoy; however, thanks to Hurricane Sandy, our church, Jacksonville Chapel in Lincoln Park, NJ, is powerless. Electricity is presently a rare and valued commodity in Northern New Jersey. Sadly, this morning’s church service has been cancelled. Lord willing, we’ll be back in church next week.

It’s 8am. My son is wearing a Snoopy t-shirt and a pair of jeans with a hole in the right knee. And his hair, it’s still disheveled. (So is mine.) Obviously, I’ve a bit more time than I usually have on a Sunday morning, time to think a bit, time to wonder.

That’s why I write. That’s why I’m a poet. Well, it’s one reason, anyway. I wonder. As much as I can, I sit still and wonder.

In my next post, I’ll explore this “wondering” a bit more. I’ll wonder why I wonder.

Lt. Kendal Everly Finds His Lungs

Yup, the protagonist of my second book will breathe. The Journals of Lt. Kendal Everly: Poems of the American Civil War is to be published. Anaphora Literary Press, the publisher of my first book, just sent me a “Yes, we want it!!”

I sent Anaphora a partial manuscript so I better get a move on. Time to write, write, write. I got a book to finish!

Writing Challenge: Weather

On her blog, New Jersey poet Adele Kenny has challenged her readers to write a weather poem. Kenny writes, “We don’t have to be meteorologists to have an interest in the weather, and we all talk about the weather often enough (for some, it may be the easiest topic of conversation). Weather certainly happens to all of us, making it something that all people have in common. Weather may not be the only determinant for our emotions and moods, but it does seem to play a role, and it really can affect our thoughts and productivity. People who suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) experience moods very strongly associated with the weather. Think about it: how do you feel on a rainy day, on a sunny day, on a snowy day, and when severe weather is in the forecast?

This year there has been an abundance of rain in my corner of the world. A hot, humid summer, and days of rain again this week with unseasonably warm temps, and high humidity (just as I was ready for some crisp, clear autumn air). With global warming, hurricanes, tornadoes, and floods so often in the news, I thought it might be interesting to write about weather conditions and how they make us feel. Extending that thought, I wondered how we might use “weather” to write poems that go beyond the obvious. That’s this week’s challenge!”

Here’s my answer to that challenge. My poem, not particularly focused on any element of weather, is weather infused. Kind of, anyway.

 

 

Methuselah Knew

And all the days of Methuselah
were nine hundred and sixty nine years,
and he died.
Genesis 5:27

Methuselah knew how to build a good fire,
how to scrape the scales
off a trout without bruising its flesh,
and to rise as the sun spilt
over eastern hills
because dawn was the best time
to grapple with the grief of dead sons.

Methuselah avoided stepping on ants,
understood the worth of a thick beard.
His memory pocketed friends
like specks of jasper and gypsum.
He polished them at twilight
recalling the strength of their handshakes,
the slant of their smiles.

He knew to sit patiently on tree stumps
amidst the birch and sycamores,
to munch on almonds and peer
through the wood waiting
for tomorrow to cover him like moss.

Slow and silent.
Lost to the world.
At ease with his ghosts.

Perhaps tonight, I’ll take off my shoes,
let the backyard grass seal
the gaps between my toes,
hum a song I’ve never heard,
and toss acorns at the moon.

Mary Poppins’ Epic Bra

Lake Superior University recently published a list of overused, misused words, words that at one charming time in the past meant one thing, but today, due to the afore mentioned overuse and misuse, now mean another. Or, from my point of view, they are simply words I am now chagrined to hear used, and used again, and again, and again.

Lake Superior’s list includes amazing, occupy, baby bump, shared sacrifice, blowback, man cave, pet parent, and the new normal.

I particularly no longer care for the word occupy. For me, the word conjures images of mad people who like to urinate and public and are in desperate need of soap.

The phrase shared sacrifice…I now equate it with the political process. I loath politics.

Anyway, I began to rummage through my vocabulary and experiences looking for words that have been overused, misused, and otherwise vandalized. Here are a few.

1. Epic – I often here today’s youth use this term to describe things and experiences believed to be wonderful. For example, a new car can be epic as can be a funny joke or a excellent grade. Of course, I cannot fail to mention the epic fail. Perhaps using the word fail twice in one sentence can be considered an epic fail. Spilling one’s coffee might be considered a epic fail as would be the failure to zipper your zipper. Sorry, Homer. Epics ain’t what they used to be.

2. Bra – No, I do not speak of the support system. I am referring to how one male, usually a young male, might call is friend his bra, meaning his brother. While never have been another man’s bea, i was once considered a jock.

3. Poppins – I end with perfection. Well, that’s what Poppins mean, perfect. Ya know, like Mary Poppins…she is perfect. (Honestly, I think this one will grow on me.)