E is for Errant Environmental Ecocide

Day 5 of Blogging from A to Z.  Today’s letter is E
E is for Errant Environmental Ecocide

if not this day then
when will we accept that we
court a silent spring.

I won’t belabor the point. The haiku says it all.  We know the bees are dying; we know that they atree brancehes 2re essential to our food production. Even those folks who profess to care, spray their lawns, trees, and even themselves with poisons and wonder that they and their gardens do not thrive as they once did.

—–
Glossary:

errant –  adjective \ˈer-ənt, ˈe-rənt\
behaving wrongly, going outside the proper area

eco·cide  noun \ˈē-kə-ˌsīd, ˈe-, -(ˌ)kō-\
the destruction of large areas of the natural environment especially as a result of deliberate human action

D is for the Dash twixt Dawn and Dusk

Day 4 of Blogging from A to Z.  Today’s letter is D
D is for the Dash between Dawn and Dusk

The DashChurch near Wadenhoe 2

we dash twixt dawn and
dusk blind to miracles strewn
like gems before us

a life reduced to
birth and death dates and one small
dash engraved in stone.

The poem is new – written this afternoon as I revisited my 4/4/12 Blog on the letter D.  I find I need reminding from time to time, to get out of my rut and live my Dash. So although the text below is mostly a reprint, the double haiku above is new – written this morning

4/4/2012
Too often, we dash between dawn and dusk barely noticing the miracles, large and small, strewn like gems throughout our days.

I read an article in which the writer said ‘live your dash’.  What I wondered did that mean.  She went on to explain that as she wandered through a cemetery one day, she noticed that beneath each name there were two dates with a small dash between them.

I never thought about that – a lifetime reduced to a birth date and a death date separated by a small dash.

I know people who plod through their days for whom that dash is far too large.  I know people who dash through their days and never notice the day’s bounty.

And I know people for whom that dash is far too small to encompass the life they live.

I’m determined to live my dash from dawn to dusk and then some.

Are you living your dash?

C is for Cawing Crows and Crumbs

Day 3 of Blogging from A to Z.  Today’s letter is C100_4280
C is for Cawing Crows and Crumbs

Cawing crows announce
Hard crumbs strewn across the yard
Birdbath’s now bread soup

Mother’s back yard is a sanctuary where all the leavings of the table are tossed out to the enjoyment of every bird, squirrel, and heaven knows what other creatures venture on the periphery of the perpetual feast she provides.

The crows fascinate and annoy.  There is always a lookout, and when the bounty appears, the call goes out.  The flock arrives swiftly and and perches on the high wires and in the trees then descend together.

They don’t like old 100_1860bread much less that that is gone hard as croutons.  We watch in fascination as one by one they take the large pieces of old bread and dunk them in the birdbath until it a veritable bread soup.

B is Balm, of Banal, Banter

Day 2 of Blogging from A to Z.  Today’s letter is B
B is for Balm, Banal, Banter

The balm of banal banter has it place in our lives. Such conversations serve a purpose because they are safe in settings where opinions on more weighty matters such as politics and religion could verge on anger or violence.

In social settings, such conversations serve to break the ice between strangers at cocktail Mom/Ba at MMDDparties and events; build relationships with the service person at a store you frequent; the bartender at your local bar; the waitress at your favorite restaurant; the maintenance man; landlord, or the yardman.

It cost little to make small talk and smile, and the dividends are huge.

In personal settings, such conversations can ease misunderstanding in tough personal interactions and begin to heal some wounds after a disagreement or falling out with a family member or friend.

It’s a bridge called civility that allows both people involved, when they meet in public, to be civil and converse without the ‘you’re wrong/no, you’re wrong’ finger pointing.

The Balm of Banal Banter has its place in our lives, costs nothing, and can build bridges and mend fences that no other type of conversation can.

A is for Ancient, Artifacts, Archaeology.

Day 1 of Blogging from A to Z.  Today’s letter is A
A is for Ancient, Artifacts. Archeology

“The oldest known set of footprints… are 117,000 years old and thought to be those of a woman and possibly a child…” (New Scientist magazine, 31 January 1998)

I had and still have a fascination with ancient things, lives lived, and languages feetspoken. Knowing that things pass out of knowledge and leave only traces for us to piece together if we care haunted me as a child.

As a child I imagined myself to be an archeologist.  And although I was never encouraged in this dream for an adventurist future, I climbed all over the Sandia Mountains with my friends searching for artifacts.  I collected odd rocks with markings I imagined to be etched by some ancient woman late at night in her cave.  In my mind there was always the woman in the starring role – my dream, my way.

Reading that story in New Scientist Magazine in 1998, awakened that dreaming storytelling child and I wrote a small story called, Ancient Footsteps which found its way into an anthology.

A is for the Adventure I Embark Upon This Day.

A is for the Adventure I Embark Upon This Day.
(I missed the deadline for the April Blogging from A to Z Challenge, but I’m doing it anyhow.)

I’ve not blogged consistently for a while.  But I’m gearing and beginning again.  I’m embarking on a new adventure.  I’ve bid adieu to Dilbert’s world; claimed my entitlement which I am ‘entitled’ to; and I’m looking to the moment and the future.

At 5, I thought 60 was old. Now, at 64, not so much. I am sometimes utterly amazed that I’ve been on this planet so long. Lately, I’ve been pondering the next 3rd of my life. Yes, I think I’ll make it to ninety-something, but not as some dottie, but rather some doughty, old lady.

Surprising to me, I’ve become a woman of a certain age, and I’m still here.  So I a

100_1452

sk, now what? I want to explore where I am; how I got here, and where I’m going as I enter the next third of my life.  I’ve lots of projects in process ready to launch mid to late April.

What better day than All Fools’ Day to begin, after all

Fools Rush In Where Angels…   (from 2012 Blogging from A-Z Challenge)

edges rough worn thin
mind that races rushes in
angels watch in awe

not quite sure they saw
halos doffed no wind for wings
grounded and unsure

© 6.23.12

My pen My wand

my pen casts words cross
pale blue lines creating worlds
oh my pen my wand

I love the feel of my pen on the page. I’ve always written by hand. Is it my age? I think not. I’m not alone in this. The pen is gaining on iPad, laptop, desktop for the writer on the run, who scribbles their first ideas, outlines, characterizations on a notebook in their pocket, a napkin…

I carry my journal everywhere and currently am jotting down character traits, locations, ideas, possible plots for my wip.

The beauty of writing first drafts by hand, is when I type it up later – voila – second draft. Gotta love it.

20130124-223057.jpg

Poet’s lot

Poets doomed, entombed
prize covered promised coffin
mind soared now heart sore.

20120611-222045.jpg

En Point

superoxide dismutase
épée – foil
focused synapse – volleys fired
warriors forth.

20120528-214513.jpg

Be Witch, Be Quark

find the gap between
thought, one with the universe
be both here and there.

(c) Perle Champion

20120507-154334.jpg

Previous Older Entries Next Newer Entries

Social