Fearing The Plague

Thom writes:

"Each week, I post three words. You write something using the words.

Then come back and post a link to the contribution with Mr. Linky (but please, link to the exact post, not your blog, by clicking on the exact post title and paste it to Mr. Linky below). As always, there's no hard-and-fast rule that you have to post on Wednesday."

This week the words are:

Brutal; Sullen; Trust

To connect with the site, *click here*

Wiki writes: "The Outback is the vast, remote, arid area of Australia, term colloquially can refer to any lands outside the main urban areas. The term "the outback" is generally used to refer to locations that are comparatively more remote than those areas named "the bush".

"The outback is home to a diverse set of animal species, such as the kangaroo, emu and dingo. The Dingo Fence was built to restrict dingo movements into agricultural areas towards the south east of the continent. The marginally fertile parts are primarily utilised as rangelands and have been traditionally used for sheep or cattle grazing, on cattle stations which are leased from the Federal Government. While small areas of the outback consist of clay soils the majority has exceedingly infertile palaeosols. Riversleigh, in Queensland, is one of Australia's most renowned fossil sites and was recorded as a World Heritage site in 1994. The 100 km2 (39 sq mi) area contains fossil remains of ancient mammals, birds and reptiles of Oligocene and Miocene age."

Fearing The Plague

Let's not be brutal,
tearing skin away to bleed
across the dry sand
of the far outback
nor find the sullen dirty
sky above our shame.
Instead we shall trust
this fence to keep the snaggle
toothed vermin away.

January 11, 2012 4:29 AM

Small Stone #10

In Monasteries
They Use Bamboo Slats

Can I shock you up?
Can I reach past the gravel
and plant in the loam?
Won't you see? That's all
I ask, if you'll fucking see.

Small Stone #9

It's All Timing

Death keeps an orchard
just for me he says, hoping
I will visit soon.
I'm thinking not yet.

Yearning For Change

Image from Lee Friedlander's work in the streets of New York

courtesy of Tess Kincaid at The Mag (Mag 99)

This one is an honest recounting of inner life in my own childhood.

Since Tess has written a similar poem I must wonder how many children of a certain age saw in Yul a father figure.

In my case the line of his face and his stern appearance plus his baldness added up to my dad in simple enough ways that allowed me to fantasize about another life. The travail in my life came from my own soul sickness (no matter where it came from) and then from social backwardness because of the isolation my illness caused.

My parents were decent and sophisticated folk, teachers, and they had my best interests at heart. They loved me as best they could. I yearned for a different set of circumstances, a feeling that persisted unrelenting from at least second grade on and came to a head in my adolescence. It peaked at the age of nineteen and nearly killed me.

How I survived my crisis, which involved yet another bout of illness at its start, a meningitis I caught at Fort Ord in 1964 is a complex story. I knew I was dying from age nineteen, a stress that lasted two years, and when I was "saved" at age 21 I knew that too, though I went mad at salvation's beginning. I went mad because the reframings caused by my inner changes were too radical to fit within my adolescent structure and I shattered in the key events. "All you need is love". Hah! Yes indeed, but beware.

In those days I could not talk about any of this. I did not have the words. In fact I have never really felt I have the words and don't still. Not really. That's why poetry and mythical story telling work best.

Yearning For Change

In all the other
ways I could think of to change
who or where I was
one was my dad as
someone else, as Yul Brynner.
My dad looked like him
to me though not to
others that much I must say.
I was a pale child.

January 8, 2012 1:23 PM

Small Stone #8

Later We Moved Away

Why we swam in crap
I'm not sure, polluted streams
were the only ones
we knew in those days.

Small Stone #7

Making Up

Silk upon your silk
slippery sweet after all
the strife has ended.

Small Stone #6

That Special Ache

Her nose filled with scent,
the dog peers beyond the park
to yearn for passing
cars on the highway.

Small Stone #5

Life After Life

Once we were soldiers
in combat. You killed me then.
I will forgive you
in some longer life.

The Torture Garden, Three Word Wednesday

Shunan Bamboo Forest, China

Thom writes

"Each week, I post three words. You write something using the words. Then come back and post a link to the contribution with Mr. Linky (but please, link to the exact post, not your blog, by clicking on the exact post title and paste it to Mr. Linky below). As always, there's no hard-and-fast rule that you have to post on Wednesday. I invite everyone to check back often to read and comment on other contributions."

This week's words:

Naughty

Tactic

Zenith

For this week's Three Word Wednesday, *click here*

I must remark at this point that "naughty" is an interesting attitudinal word. It is literally "of the zero", that is, using "naught" in that mathematical sense. English relates that idea to immorality or bad behavior. Thus it is that hidden in the idea of "naughty" is the judgment that to outlaw oneself over moral behavior is to become a zero socially.

I find it really interesting that at least in American society the idea of "naughty" has gotten a cachet, especially in sexual matters, such that now "bad is good". "Oh she's such a naughty girl," is a great example. Another is when a girl responds flirtatiously to a male's advance, "You naughty boy!"

The Torture Garden

I receive bamboo
at this point, receive the frond,
the naughty sliver
under my thumbnail
that is your tactic this day
as the sun climbs up
to its bright zenith,
exposing my nudity
and the bloody stripes
you leave across me.

January 4, 2012 5:07 AM

Hokokuji Bamboo Forest, Kamakura, Japan

Small Stone #4

Different Strokes

We sure are of two
different sorts, you and I.
I won't cut my hair.
You won't go to Crete.

Small Stone #3

Global Warming

The jasmine asks me,
"where's the frost, the ice and snow?"
The crocuses gave
notice, moving north.

January 2, 2012 11:40 AM
Posted January 3, 2012 no matter what blogger says :P

The Morning After

The River, Marina Moevs, 2005
The photo courtesy Tess at Magie Tales

The Morning After

I'm a lucky man.
What a ride. The hangover
is huge and my bed's
a wreck and I hate
climbing over wrack and goo
to get out of there
after the downstream
tumble but the water's gone
down and I'm still here,
proving one more time
that God loves sloppy old drunks
and worn out old fools.

January 2, 2012 8:39 AM

Written for Magpie Tales *click here*

Small Stone #2

Loneliness

I let my dope run
out. Now what?

January 2, 2012 8:01 AM

The First Small Stone

Elsewhere The War Continues

Halfway to Mount Hood
in the forest a small stone
gleams in the river
after my spinning
sidearm cast, four skips before
coming to its rest.

January 1, 2012 1:56 PM

Nearing The End

The Corridor

Each one has to find his peace from within. And peace to be real must be unaffected by outside circumstances. - Mohandas K. Gandhi

The earth is too small a star and we too brief a visitor upon it for anything to matter more than the struggle for peace. - Colman McCarthy

Colman McCarthy (born March 24, 1938), an American journalist, teacher, lecturer, pacifist, an anarchist and long-time peace activist, directs the Center for Teaching Peace in Washington, D.C. From 1969 to 1997, he wrote columns for The Washington Post. His topics ranged from politics, religion, health, and sports to education, poverty, and peacemaking. Washingtonian magazine called him "the liberal conscience of The Washington Post." Smithsonian magazine said he is "a man of profound spiritual awareness." He has written for The New Yorker, The Nation, The Progressive, The Atlantic, and Reader's Digest. Since 1999, he has written biweekly columns for National Catholic Reporter.

Since 1982, he has been teaching courses on nonviolence and the literature of peace. In the fall semester of 2006, he taught at seven schools: Georgetown University Law Center, American University, the University of Maryland, The Washington Center for Internships, Wilson High School, Bethesda-Chevy Chase High School and School Without Walls.


Nearing The End

There is a scratching
at my door and light beneath
slices my back wall
as I lie with eyes
tight shut against all the glare
of your call to me
with colors beyond
my understanding of light.

I am so ready.

February 26, 2010 12:44 PM

The greatest degree of inner tranquility comes from the development of love and compassion. The more we care for the happiness of others, the greater is our own sense of well-being. - Tenzin Gyatso, 14th Dalai Lama

What I Would Do

Yearning

On this New Years Eve, 2011 the neighbor cat named Hellboy and I join in wishing you and yours a fruitfuytgytgytgytgytgytgytgytgytgytgytg (that was Hellboy stepping on my keys) fruitful 2012. May all the naysayers come to naught. May we in the US get the President we deserve.

I am currently in eclipse. I am hopeful the light will return.

I awoke this morning and on my Facebook, Michelle was wishing Happy New Year and I realized something. Michelle lives in Australia. As it hit midnight last night at the International Date Line it was January 1, 2012 there and so it was in Australia where Michelle lives. January 1 is coming to us hour by hour as it moves across the planet, as the planet revolves around the poles in its orbit, winter here in the north and summer in the south. Thus in Australia, Christmas and New Years Day take place in the long and the heat of summer. So also in Buenos Aires in Argentina. We do not all experience the same.

So in my life it is unique in many ways and yet the same in others. There is no doubt a northern and southern hemisphere in my life and an International Date Line too. Also in yours.

What I Would Do

I would reach far out
beyond the wrap of matter
into the quaking
gap of almost not
ever here again to try
to tell you the truth.

I would spin within
the celestial dream of time,
spin on the point blank
sweep of light, of light
that plays your face in shadow
and in hues of love.

I would hold with you,
keep the faith with you and yours,
leave nearby my heart.

February 13, 2010 3:37 PM

Calling In The Year

The Raven And Coyote

The Raven And Coyote

Raven looks at her,
old coyote in the warming
snow that clogs the pads
of her cold cold feet.

Coyote ignores raven, her
one eye on the trail.
I know she hears me,
the click of the camera.
She ignores me too.

Raven keeps one eye on
me even though she is high
up that naked tree.

February 7, 2010 1:51 PM

Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow. - Melody Beattie

Melody Beattie is the author of Codependent No More, published in 1987 by the Hazelden Foundation. The book was successful and influential within the self-help movement, selling over eight million copies and introducing the word codependent to the general public.

Following the success of Codependent No More, Beattie authored over a dozen other books, including Beyond Codependency and The Language of Letting Go. Her most recent book is Make Miracles in Forty Days: Turning What You Have into What You Want, published in 2010. Several of her books have been published in other languages.

Similar to the work of Bill W. and Alcoholics Anonymous five decades earlier, Beattie's early work synthesizes psychoanalytic theory (especially object relations and the work of Heinz Kohut, Wilfrid Bion, and Otto Kernberg) into language people can easily grasp and use. In Codependent No More, Beattie also functioned as a popularizer of science, especially the work of psychiatrist Timmen Cermak, author of Diagnosing and Treating Co-Dependence.

Interested in what Melody might have to say to you?
*click here*

Might Be I Took A Wrong Turn

"I took a wrong turn," said Brother Rabbit.

Might Be I Took A Wrong Turn

The hare of friendship
cannot find me because dark
rime from the rubber
sprayed slush coats my paw
and I clench and clench it up
from age old habit,
sure I am the one,
the very truthfully right
hare all alone here
on the night spread road
of my fearsome destiny
so I breathe and pray.

‎December ‎29, ‎2011 7:33 PM

The Wrecking Crew

Fashion for The New York Times (the backdrop in a foggy day) 1956

Tom Palumbo - www.tompalumbo.com

Thom writes: "Each week, I post three words. You write something using the words.

"Then come back and post a link to the contribution with Mr. Linky (but please, link to the exact post, not your blog, by clicking on the exact post title and paste it to Mr. Linky below). As always, there's no hard-and-fast rule that you have to post on Wednesday.

"I invite everyone to check back often to read and comment on other contributions. This is, after all, a community for writers who clamor for feedback."

To find this week's Three Word Wednesday *click here*

This week's words: Demolish; Resolution; Transform.

The Wrecking Crew

The watery thin
sun of year's end rose today
behind lower clouds
than usual, not fog,
not that, but still they mask well
your scheduled structure.

We shall demolish
this old relic and transform
the vacancy left
according to rules
of the new resolution
handed down to us.

December 28, 2011 4:41 AM

"A Foggy Day" is a song composed by George Gershwin, with lyrics by Ira Gershwin, introduced by Fred Astaire in the 1937 film A Damsel in Distress. It was originally titled "A Foggy Day (In London Town)", and is often still referred to as such.

A Damsel in Distress(RKO) is a 1937 English-themed Hollywood musical comedy film starring Fred Astaire, Joan Fontaine, George Burns, and Gracie Allen. With a screenplay by P. G. Wodehouse, loosely based on his novel of the same name, music and lyrics by George and Ira Gershwin, it is directed by George Stevens.

Soon They'll Find Her

Laughing Marilyn Monroe by Bert Stern Pearls

Picture offered by Tess at Magpie Tales

Marilyn was a smart but troubled lady. I had an aunt who grew up like her when our family on my Mom's side exploded. My Mom too went to a kind of foster situation, but she was older and turned it to her advantage. Her little sis (half sister with different fathers) ran in the streets while my Mom took a college degree.

Soon They'll Find Her

She looks for promise
in the glitter of the night
just as they said to.
She's obedient,
sex kitten on their command
and innocent too,
just that way, fellas.
She's a student of our lives
and you'd think jaded
but the whispers come
slinking in the graying smoke
suggesting her pain.
She's tried to untie
all the knots she's come here with,
to simplify things
picking at the strings
so she can smile at us now
just once for damn real.

Written in memory of Nan Wire (nee Hogg)
and Marilyn Monroe, December 27, 2011 12:48 PM

Written for Magpie Tales #97 *click here*