Tag: Poems

Inspiration, poetry, Writing

#SundayShares: Poetry, Prose, Photos

Mona Alvarado Frazier
From Beth Frates, MD, on Twitter

During the week, I often come across poetry, a bit of writing, or a photo that gives me pause in a satisfying way where I reconnect with the present. I’d like to share these moments with you.

by Pixaby

This poem celebrates the colors of Fall. Yaskhan writes about poetry, haikus, and photography. I felt this poem as I read.

October Chill:

autumn comes
upon trees
coppery soft
frail amber blooms
gather shadows
north winds stir
rosette twilight
birdsongs hush
the whispering breeze
orange, red maple leaves
ignite a crimson light
October lilts
frosted sigh
pumpkin moon
adorns ebon frilled sky

Yaskhan

The poem put me right into the treescape above. “rosette twilight” is a beautiful description.

My grand-niece turned four yesterday. Her mom put on a Halloween-themed party with homemade treats for the kids. I thought they were adorable, even if the eyes were staring.

purple and orange decorated chocolate balls and ghost treats for Halloween
Halloween Treats

Maria Popova publishes a newsletter, The Marginalian: Reflections on keeping the soul intact and alive and worthy of itself.

This week was her 16 Life-Learnings from 16 years of blogging. My favorite pieces of prose:

“Be generous. Be generous with your time and your resources and with giving credit and, especially, with your words. It’s so much easier to be a critic than a celebrator. Always remember there is a human being on the other end of every exchange and behind every cultural artifact being critiqued. To understand and be understood, those are among life’s greatest gifts, and every interaction is an opportunity to exchange them.”

“Expect anything worthwhile to take a long time.” This is borrowed from the wise and wonderful Debbie Millman, for it’s hard to better capture something so fundamental yet so impatiently overlooked in our culture of immediacy. The myth of the overnight success is just that — a myth — as well as a reminder that our present definition of success needs serious retuning. The flower doesn’t go from bud to blossom in one spritely burst and yet, as a culture, we’re disinterested in the tedium of the blossoming. But that’s where all the real magic unfolds in the making of one’s character and destiny.”

That’s it. Have a pleasant week, and enjoy your Sunday!

poetry, Poetry Month, Spring

Is There A Poem in Your Pocket?

Mona Alvarado Frazier

Hello,

I hope this month finds you better in mind, body, and spirit than last month.

Masks are coming down, venues are up, and people are venturing into museums, concerts, and other large inside gatherings. I’m excited about the avenues opening and cautious at the same time.

Unknown Bird in the Garden

The month is ending and rolling into May, bringing a sunnier springtime and birds I’ve never seen before into the garden. We usually have crows, sparrows, and other birds in varying shades of gray, so spotting this red-headed beauty had me tip-toeing for the camera.

But before we slide into May Day, Cinco de Mayo, Mother’s Day, my own mother’s birthday, and Memorial Day, I’d like to commemorate April’s Poetry Month.

April 29th is the day to share a poem (Poem in Your Pocket Day). I found this one, or it found me:

Instructions on Not Giving Up by Ada Limón

More than the fuchsia funnels breaking out
of the crabapple tree, more than the neighbor’s
almost obscene display of cherry limbs shoving
their cotton candy-colored blossoms to the slate
sky of Spring rains, it’s the greening of the trees
that really gets to me. When all the shock of white
and taffy, the world’s baubles, and trinkets, leave
the pavement strewn with the confetti of aftermath,
the leaves come. Patient, plodding, a green skin
growing over whatever winter did to us, a return
to the strange idea of continuous living despite
the mess of us, the hurt, the empty. Fine then,
I’ll take it, the tree seems to say, a new slick leaf
unfurling like a fist to an open palm, I’ll take it all.

Patient, plodding…growing over whatever winter did to us…living despite the mess of us

I love the colors and visuals in the poem. What strikes me most are the words the greening of the trees. This makes me think of growth even when a plant is dormant.

The rebirth, despite the mess of us. Despite the collective state of the world and our miniature worlds. The verse points to the beauty of life’s realism and the not very appealing aspects. This makes me think of how joy can live after hurt, how the emptiness can be filled, and how we can blow life into dying embers.

The poem reminds me that we can nurture the strange idea of continuous living. I want to remember that instruction.

So, to remind me, I stare out my window and see the succulents in the garden. They were various shades of green until they bloomed their flowers. Now, we have an abundance of butterflies and bees that makes our cats give us attitude when it’s time to come inside. They too would rather be in the sunshine.

Heidi Ho in the Garden

Writing Life: 14 months to Publication

A couple of months ago, I re-worked my sixty-word description of my novel. Yesterday, my publisher notified me that my manuscript title will have to be ‘retitled.’ The current title is the one I’ve had for soooo long.

I’m a flexible person, so I brainstormed titles with my writing group and came up with a group favorite: Accused. I submitted that one and will hope for the best.

I’m lucky in drawings, and last week I won a 10-minute video session with an editor to go over my query letter for my second novel. The Zoom call was helpful (and humbling). This was sponsored by Manuscript Wishlist.

Next month, I may surprise you with a newsletter format. I’m not a techie person, so wish me luck.

Stay healthy, don’t give up, and enjoy the sunshine, literally and figuratively. See you in May and thanks for reading.