medial // caesura

"In the morning sow your seed, and at evening withhold not your hand, for you do not know which will prosper, this or that, or whether both alike will be good.  Light is sweet, and it is pleasant for eyes to see the sun."  Ecclesiastes 11:6-7 I'm sure you've seen the Hampton Inn commercial advertising the breakfast buffet--the staff member watches a guest make a waffle with the flipping waffle iron:  "You did a good job.  That looks great."  Just one of those feel-good moments one experiences at the Hampton Inn. We had the occasion to stay at the Hampton Inn twice this summer.  And one morning I attempted to use the waffle iron (I had not yet seen the commercial and didn't know that it must be rotated for the timer to work).  The staff member came over and cajoled me.  "You didn't know to flip it.  Oh, no.  I bet your young child here could make a better waffle than you.  Here out of the way.  I will cook it for ...

  Sometimes you have to wait & see what it is going to do, but with time you learn the weeds from the flowers.  --Mama Judah I have enjoyed gardening at our new home; the soil is crazy fertile, and the climate is conducive to both flowers and vegetables.  Our corn and green beans shot up with little effort, and I've had jars brimming with zinnias brightening my kitchen all summer long.  Since the gardens were filled with beauty before we moved in, I've had to wait a bit between growing seasons to find out if some perennial planted before my time is sprouting or if the leafy seedlings I'm witnessing with anticipation are just weeds. The news is filled with various perspectives, mostly disturbing with often alarming predictions.  Each news outlet has its own bias about who is to blame for what.  With so much going on right now,  in Iraq and Syria, mysterious plane crashes, escalating tension/violence in Russia and Ukraine, what does one make of i...

"Peace and Chicken Grease, Sister!" the greeting/farewell my teenaged brother delivered, his grin and two fingers outstretched.  I'm so thankful God has given me a brother with such a magnanimous spirit and a whole lotta wisdom.  He can make me laugh when that's the last thing I feel like doing.  He reads people better in five minutes than I do in five months.  And he gives the best advice, partly because it's succinct but mostly because it is sheer wisdom laced with humor that brings peace to a troubled mind. Although he would probably deny this and laugh at me for saying so, he brings to mind Colossians 4:6, the theme verse for our recent Classical Conversations training, "Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person."   That salt, by the way, is the Truth, capital "T."  My brother was there for me yesterday when the sorrow akin to that described by  Hamlet's usurping ...

I have had that silly song from Barney in my head all morning.  I guess because the sun is shining strong this morning--"bright and morning sun--please shine down on me." :)  A poem by Mary Oliver, a favorite, comes to mind: The Sun Have you ever seen anything in your life more wonderful than the way the sun, every evening, relaxed and easy, floats toward the horizon and into the clouds or the hills, or the rumpled sea, and is gone-- and how it slides again out of the blackness, every morning, on the other side of the world, like a red flower streaming upward on its heavenly oils[. . .] do you think there is anywhere, in any language, a word billowing enough for the pleasure that fills you, as the sun reaches out, as it warms you as you stand there, empty-handed-- or have you too turned from this world-- or have you too gone crazy for power, for things? Lovely, isn't it?  Oliver captures so well my feelings about the sun's ...

Psalm 19 The heavens declare the glory of God,     and the sky above proclaims his handiwork. 2  Day to day pours out speech,      and night to night reveals knowledge.   3  There is no speech, nor are there words,      whose voice is not heard. In my yard, something is always blooming.   Just before I stop noticing the exquisiteness of one plant or the moment I become sad about its wilted bloom, another beauty announces itself.  The boys and I planted some seeds to contribute to our ongoing beauty, and as a precursor to a garden endeavor, some pepper plants to promote eating fresh.  It was fun to play in the dirt together.  It felt good to have that caked dirt on my hands, for a few days impossible to remove from my cracked fingers. And I planted phlox. It's something I've always wanted in my yard.  It's fragrant, delicate, and easy-to-grow.  Many species ...

crisp bite apple crunch morning nourishment                                        a body drifts                                                                                               Soul seeks salt allergic to aloe's soothing natural in June's grass mint rampant fast Droning doctors, fancy medicine,  absent--              ...

His almond eyes saw lies—master of praxeology--  felt the violet writhing, in air lemon-fresh. He uncovered the giant specter who hacks away to disturb the dissimulation I wear, an ostracon large enough to hide the haunting, but with words enough to belie the charade. Fire the kiln, Dig up the carob root, I need a new guise and caffeine-free chocolate.   Written for Shawna's Monday Melting at rosemarymint:   the ten words, carob, root, fire, violet, lemon, disturb, almond, writhe, specter, and hacks.

3 hours of sleep and my manic mind caroms from one  memory 2 another (electric synapse callow, but spry) with 1 pygmy sprig of sanity, laid low in the chalet, who averred  that it was going to be a very, very, very long day—   answering the glistening call of 0 sleep:  ah, weariness!  in answer to Monday's Melting :  prompt:  carom, callow, spry, pygmy, sprig, chalet, glistening. manic, synapse, and aver

This was written in response to Shawna's writing prompt to use any of the following words in an original poem: blazon, senescent, rust, ticklish, savage, caracol, potpourri, kiwi, cure, eclipse and following Shawna's prompting, I'm linking to a site for poets-- dverse .  It's OpenLink Night!         A Villanelle on Slavery                   for Kiwi Her eyes "for hire" emblazoned too desperate (the cure eclipsed by need for bread, clean water, a place to sleep) no time to heal, beg virtue, for the rusted caracol leads her eyes "for hire" emblazoned too tired with hasty senescence.  And who knows the dreams her resolve bleeds for bread, clean water, a place to sleep?  The savage vanquishes true  desire; he lords, forcing with greed her eyes-- "for hire" emblazoned-- too sick with musky potpourri rue. Ticklish avarice, soul lev...