A Senryu:
Memorial Day ~
Mother would frown: no flag flies
from her -- my -- old house [c 2009]
". . . I am old fashioned, and my sentiment runs to old things." --from Ernie Pyle's last and unfinished column, Arkansas Democrat Gazette , editorial page
"'Never, never, never give up.'" -- Winston Churchill, cited by Pat Lynch, columnist, ADG
If you are here, then you still have something that needs to be done." -- Pat Lynch
Flipping my haiku calendar to May 25, I discovered it was the 10th anniversary of my father's death at age 90. Please God may I live that long. I have so much more to do.
Sorry to read the Texican is going on blog leave. Have a good respite, Dennis. And a good rest.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Today - a blank verse poem and two haiku
Today, I've lopped and clipped and sawed until
another stack of limbs and branches -- red
bud and euonymous, forsythia --
lay all apile. I moved a 10 foot log,
a hollow cedar piece my brother found
and brought to me. Three sodden rugs I hung,
and found a slew of fishing worms beneath,
which I tossed -- one by one -- onto the grass
where they could bury up in dark of dirt.
Inside, I watched a bright red cardinal
perch on the ironstone dish to feed, and then
a peckerwood with crimson head flew in
and grabbed a seed. Brown thrasher stopped, then blue
jay -- each preceded each so only one
was foremost at a time, resembling
a slide show on this mid-May afternoon. [c patlaster, 2009]
rush hour traffic ~
in momentary silence
the sound of a goose [c patlaster, 2009]
chasing
the noisy woodpecker
from gutter downspout [c patlaster, 2009]
another stack of limbs and branches -- red
bud and euonymous, forsythia --
lay all apile. I moved a 10 foot log,
a hollow cedar piece my brother found
and brought to me. Three sodden rugs I hung,
and found a slew of fishing worms beneath,
which I tossed -- one by one -- onto the grass
where they could bury up in dark of dirt.
Inside, I watched a bright red cardinal
perch on the ironstone dish to feed, and then
a peckerwood with crimson head flew in
and grabbed a seed. Brown thrasher stopped, then blue
jay -- each preceded each so only one
was foremost at a time, resembling
a slide show on this mid-May afternoon. [c patlaster, 2009]
rush hour traffic ~
in momentary silence
the sound of a goose [c patlaster, 2009]
chasing
the noisy woodpecker
from gutter downspout [c patlaster, 2009]
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Spring means cleaning and concerts
A writer friend asked me where all our long writing days had gotten to. She has two sisters to "see about," and I have a large yard to tend. Also, the change of seasons means packing winter clothes and unpacking summer ones. Getting them washed, aired out and/or put back in storage (atticked, in my case).
Then , for those with relatives graduating or belonging to a musical group, there are those end-of-school events to plan for and attend. No graduates in my immediate family, but Kid Billy did appear in Henderson State University's choral concert on a recent Monday night. The venue was the First United Methodist Church of Arkadelphia, where, not surprisingly, the organist is a retired HSU professor and the choirmaster is a present voice teacher at the school.
At the appointed hour, the choir of 40 filed into the chancel of the church where I spent seven weeks as an employee. (I "fired myself," as a younger KB described it). KB wasn't on the back row; he wasn't on the middle row. There he was! In the front--he who had been in the choir only since the middle of the first semester.
He looked perect in his tux (another story). His hair--usually plastered down with body oil--was thick, curly and bouncy. Though he whad been diagnosed with ADHD as a first grader, as a freshman in college, he stood supremely still; didn't move a muscle except his hand to turn pages, his eyes to read the music and his mouth/body to expel the notes. My buttons popped.
Thursday, he came home for the summer and took up his previous habit of holing up in his room, watching something--or somethings--until the wee hours, then sleeping until noon the next day. Does that schedule ring a bell with anyout out there? Later, pl
Then , for those with relatives graduating or belonging to a musical group, there are those end-of-school events to plan for and attend. No graduates in my immediate family, but Kid Billy did appear in Henderson State University's choral concert on a recent Monday night. The venue was the First United Methodist Church of Arkadelphia, where, not surprisingly, the organist is a retired HSU professor and the choirmaster is a present voice teacher at the school.
At the appointed hour, the choir of 40 filed into the chancel of the church where I spent seven weeks as an employee. (I "fired myself," as a younger KB described it). KB wasn't on the back row; he wasn't on the middle row. There he was! In the front--he who had been in the choir only since the middle of the first semester.
He looked perect in his tux (another story). His hair--usually plastered down with body oil--was thick, curly and bouncy. Though he whad been diagnosed with ADHD as a first grader, as a freshman in college, he stood supremely still; didn't move a muscle except his hand to turn pages, his eyes to read the music and his mouth/body to expel the notes. My buttons popped.
Thursday, he came home for the summer and took up his previous habit of holing up in his room, watching something--or somethings--until the wee hours, then sleeping until noon the next day. Does that schedule ring a bell with anyout out there? Later, pl
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