BLOG OF THE WEEK ~ DAILY SPIRIT

Recently, my friends, our poet-friend Myrna Rosa, of Daily Spirit, Musings to Nourish the Soul,  posted a poem so beautiful - so perfect - I had to make sure nobody missed it. In the face of all that we are inundated with in the media, Myrna's poem is a response that resonates at a cellular level. In its wisdom, it reminds me of Rumi's poetry. One reads it and feels a resounding "yes!" within their being. So here it is. From a poet with such a beautiful heart.

SUNDAY MORNING

Outside, quail chirp happily.

They sing a boisterous disturbance

to my silent home where I sip coffee

as thoughts bead a circle of mantras in my mind.

Am I praying? 

when I think of nature shriveling,

of viruses thriving while survivors

survive but aren't exactly living,

when people are losing their heads,

because others see only one shape 

to the diamond they call god?

I breathe my desire for peace

in all these things.

Then I listen to the sermon of the birds,

proclaiming their faith.

"You are a song," they say.

"Chirp loud, your best hymn."

***

Sherry: How I love this! "You are a song. Chirp loud, your best hymn." Tell us about this poem, Myrna. How did it come to you?

Myrna: Thank you so much Sherry, for selecting this poem as Poem of the Week.  It’s such an honor.

Actually, Sherry, you’re partially responsible for the poem “Sunday Morning.”   I was sitting in my family room struggling with the blank page on my computer.  I wanted to submit something to Poetry Pantry, but after considerable time the only words I had written were, “My house so silent.  My thoughts so loud.”  After abandoning my goal of writing a poem, I decided to read blogposts instead.  I read yours regarding Loving Water Day.  I sat for a while connecting with your sadness over the world’s suffering.  Then I became aware of chirping.  I went to my front window, saw quail and took a picture.  I listened to the birds for a while.  When I sat again to write, the poem wrote itself. 

Sherry: How very cool! I love the connections we all make through our words online. Might we see the quail photo? Since they are the ones who brought us here? LOL.

Wow! Look how close you are to your beloved mountains. How beautiful they are! Myrna, in our earlier interview in 2012, you said something that really struck me as true. You said, "The major ingredient of a good poem is the poet's heart." 

"The major ingredient of a good poem 

is the poet's heart."

I think the reason I love and respond to your poetry so much is because you have such a good heart, and it is in everything you write. Let's look at another poem. This one just knocked my socks off when you posted it recently. It is a perfect follow-up to your quail poem.

METAMORPHOSIS

My mail is replete with requests

for money

to save the whales, the penguins,

the birds, the forests, the turtles, the elephants

the dogs and all the animals, oceans, habitats,

of this world.

Then there are the people.

Starvation, poverty, abuse, war, disease, suffering

waiting for money to stop the pain.

Then the guilt: 

I wasted water, used plastic,

didn't recycle enough, drove my car too much,

had no cash for the homeless man.

Then I feel the weight of it all.

My attempts to help, minuscule.

Living in a monumental crisis, grieving

depletes energy for hope.

But I know we must be aware,

responsible, stay grounded.

So I've decided to save the planet.

Not in a grandiose, messianic sense.

But by living my best life

on this precious earth, giving

to myself/OF myself each day,

trusting earth knows how to die, 

transform, then live again.

I learned this from a caterpillar.

Sherry: How I love this poem! This is probably the only way the planet will be saved, from the ground up, at the grassroots level. By living our best lives. And trusting the earth knows how to transform herself. This is very deep, Myrna! 

Myrna: For a week I thought about what to write for Susan's Earth Day prompt, which was on Wednesday, April 22.  On Tuesday I sat in front of my computer for at least 4 hours total.  I had so many thoughts about what to say.  Then I began about four separate poems.  None of them seemed right.  They did not express what I wanted, something was missing.  On Wednesday, again I wrote and wrote.  Nothing I came up with satisfied me.  So I decided not to respond to the prompt.  Thursday morning my writing flowed as if dictated from an alter ego, and Metamorphosis was written.    

Sherry: This is the way the best poems arrive. And for our third selection, let us refresh our cups of coffee!

Myrna: I really like coffee.  I tend to mention it a lot in my poetry.  I love sitting in a bookstore café with my husband as we drink and read their books.  Once, after reading several of Pablo Neruda’s poems, I was most impressed by a poem about animals.  It wasn’t one of his famous love poems.  It was rather harsh, whimsical and satirical. Unfortunately, I can’t remember its name, but it inspired me to write the following poem.  I learned that day that Pablo Neruda liked to write in green ink to symbolize his hope for the world.  I liked that, so I refer to it in this poem.

DRINKING COFFEE WITH PABLO

Tuesday afternoon I sit in bookstore

as Pablo stares with his soul

made of words and all

there is in mindful observations

about life, death, class struggles,

love and the in between

space we fill.

He doesn't approve

of my mocha frappe’ so different

from the cafés of his times

where he dreamed everyone's coffee

would someday be equally sweetened.

"So what," he says.

"Drink 'til the birds peck

your chocolate eyes,

'til the pigs snort delighted

eating fragments of your heart,

'til the snakes smoothly curl

around the nothing that's left

of you, your imitation living

through pages written by poets

like me who don't care

yet care immensely

when no one sees through

curtains, sheer but thick

enough to hide the truths

I see."

That's how he talked to me -

poetic paradoxical riddles, little explosions,

electric vibrations causing intermittent flashes

in my mind.

"Sorry," he says. "My coffee is bitter.

Sometimes that's all you taste when you're dead.

So be alive while you can,

even if your world’s not the best."

Once we parted, I decided

to lace my poetic words

in green of hope, like him.

What better way to show sincere admiration

than through imitation?

Sherry: WOW! This is a spectacular poem, my friend. I love "the green of hope" very very much. I will remember that from now on. I love how clearly you evoked him in this conversation. You brought him alive for me. I especially love "be alive while you can." Yes. Now, let's catch up!

Myrna's beautiful back patio

Myrna, I know you still live in New Mexico, with your husband and two dogs. Bring us up to date with your life since 2012.

Myrna's husband, Jose

the adorable Leroy and Daisy,

attentive, as Myrna was holding a treat!

Myrna: Since the last interview, life has been what life is: a series of roads with lots of hills.  I wanted and tried to move closer to my daughter, but our house didn’t sell and after moving out for a year, we returned to our home.  Though I am not close to family, at least I’m back near my beloved mountains.   

Myrna's moonlit mountains

The most significant change in my life is that I now have a new beautiful granddaughter - more beauty to love.  She’s already 16 months old. We are all thrilled, and my grandson is as crazy about his little sister as I am about them both.  I think I am their parents' nightmare because I can’t help but spoil them.  I try to visit them as often as possible.  They remind me how to play.

Sherry: Congratulations on your little granddaughter, Myrna. So much joy.

Myrna's beautiful grandchildren

Myrna: My days are mellow.   I read, write, take walks with my husband and my dogs.   I often enjoy the company of friends though I must confess, I love my solitude.  Most recently, I’ve started to learn how to draw.  I love it.  It enriches my days and complements my introspective manner. 

Sherry: Oh, goodie! Now we must see some of your art work!

Myrna: I don't have any "art work".  I'm at a very basic, elementary level of learning how to draw.  But I gathered some of my practice work and took a picture on my messy desk. 

Also, I have one I posted recently of Ian.  I used a grid and drew it from a photo.  I think that qualifies as cheating a little.  But I was proud of it.

Sherry: I love the look of your desk - so creative. And you did a wonderful sketch of your grandson. He has the eyes of an Old Soul.

Myrna: To a bystander, my life may seem boring.  Yet the other day a blogger asked, “What is your idea of paradise?”  My response: To love, to be loved, sheltered and nurtured by nature, to have food in abundance, lots of books, a laptop, writing and drawing materials, music, and a bed for rest.  After thinking for a while, I realized I have all this and so much more than any paradise I could design.  I am immensely grateful.    

  

Sherry: One can ask no more from life. Myrna, thank you for so many things: your wonderful poetry, for allowing us this update, and mostly for being the loving, humble, compassionate  spirit that you are. You are such a positive voice in our community, and we appreciate you so much. We have been lucky to have you at Poets United for so many years.

Isn't Myrna lovely, kids? Such a beautiful heart. It has been wonderful sitting on her patio, looking out at her beautiful mountains. Do come back and see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!