Poems of the Week ~ by Grace, Myrna Rosa and Debi Swim

It is our pleasure this week to bring you three beautiful poems, penned by Mary Grace Guevara of Everyday Amazing, Myrna Rosa, of Daily Spirit, and Debi Swim, of George Place Poetry. Each poem reflects the poet's unique perspective, and an explanation of how the poems came to them. I do hope you enjoy them as much as we did.

This beautiful photograph is the work of  Beth Moon, 

used with permission. Her collection Diamond Nights, 

photos of Africa's oldest trees against starry night skies, 

can be enjoyed here.

Gifts of an African Night Sky

by barren land
ancient trees gnarled by storm dust
rise with garland
& dress shimmering of silver raindrops-
tonight, she dances under diamond-lit sky

~0~0~

love the trees
as your beloved children,
said her grandmother to her-
so she planted trees until her last day
tonight, she hears their music for the gods

~0~0~

think for yourself
and question everything,
her teacher told her-
so she broke bread with friends & strangers
tonight, under sea of stars, she writes

~0~0~

Sherry: How absolutely beautiful! "Tonight she hears their music for the gods." I can see her! I love Africa, so this poem really speaks to me. How did it come to you, Grace?

Grace: I like getting inspiration from pictures, and one of my favorite blogs is Colossal. I came upon this post : Diamond Nights: Africa's Oldest Trees Photographed Against Starry Night Skies by Beth Moon, and I was blown away by the idea of watching those old trees on moonless nights in remote areas of Botswana, Namibia and South Africa. 

I have not been to Africa, but I wanted to capture the experience of seeing those aged trees at night. There's a lot of character in those old trees, and, like old people, they are filled with wisdom. I try to imagine what they will tell me, if they have voices, and that gave me the idea to play "gifts" and "teacher". 

Sherry: I was transported to the night skies of Africa by both photo and poem. How amazing it must be to look up at the heavens there.

Now let's take a look at Myrna's wonderful poem of inner fire.

The Raging Grannies of Amherst, MA

amherstma.gov

The Fire Within

I remember times when we sat around
the fire of our anger
espousing fumes of rebellion.
The mood so high, singing scorching songs,
outcries of liberation, validation,
our cumbaya moments of passionate causes
when the eve of destruction gave rise
to our individuation from the System,
the Man, or anyone over 30
because we were children
of flowers.

Today, we don't sit around so much anymore
fanning a wild fire demanding reform.
Life has changed us,
the way all good teachers do.

But our youthful fire has not been extinguished.
It rages differently,
hotter than before
when we knew less about real love,
true freedom, the value of our world.
We, blooming flowers,
will continue to fuel that flame,
until it burns us all.

Sherry: I adore "Life has changed us, the way all good teachers do." And I especially love that our fire "has not been extinguished. It burns differently now." So true of our generation of flower children, who still hold those shining ideals of a world of social justice. Tell us about this poem, Myrna.

Myrna: Recently, I heard a woman recite a poem about the early 60's.  She cited "The Howl", by Allen Ginsberg and her poem contrasted the days of protests and demonstrations with her perceived lack of conviction nowadays, the need for a "movement".   

I started thinking about my generation and wondering if all our youthful ideals were really abandoned.  My conclusion was that we have just grown, developed different perspectives and strategies to confront injustice and all the other ailments of this world.  I'm convinced that most of us have retained our fire, our passion and principles about contributing towards a better society.  At least, I hope so. 

These were the thoughts that gave rise to this poem, which, unlike most of my other poems, was written quickly with little struggle.  I love when that happens, but it is rare for me.  I'm glad it did, and mostly I'm glad you liked it.  Thank you so much for selecting it Sherry.

Sherry: We thank you, my friend, for writing it so eloquently. Now we'll take a look at Debi's interesting response to the famous painting by Van Gogh.

Vincent Van Gogh, The Starry Night

Starry Night Over the Asylum

Is anyone in the village below awake?
It is late, late, sleepers in houses dark and quiet.
How can they rest when overhead there is a riot?

Stars and worlds ringing like church bells,
moon ablaze throbbing in hi-hat jumps
a galaxy of milky white tambourine thumps

I cover my ears against the dissonance.
Why aren’t there people in the streets
wailing in anger for the noise to cease?

Oh, starry night. Oh, raucous, strident, starry night,
your beauty bellows in discordant din
and I, I fall to my knees in your poignant orbital spin.

Sherry: I felt that falling to one's knees as I read, Debi. 

Debi: I’ve admired the beauty of "The Starry Night" many times, and have written about it, but as I looked this time, I thought, this scene is LOUD.  A cacophony of sounds, like each member of an orchestra tuning up individually before the start of the concert, and I imagined Van Gogh with his hands over his ears looking into the sky.

Sherry:  Oh, that is a cool idea. I can see him, hands over his ears, and his horrified expression. An unexpected take on the famous painting. I love it!

Well, my friends? I hope you have enjoyed these wonderful offerings. Thank you for coming by so faithfully to support and appreciate our fellow poets. Do come back and see who we talk to next. Who knows? (At this point, I have NO idea, LOL) It might be you!