POEMS OF THE WEEK ~ BY ROSEMARY, CARRIE AND MARIAN

We have three special poems for you today, poet friends, by three wonderful poets, about the combined joy and pain of life and love in this beautiful world.  We hope you enjoy these offerings, written by Rosemary Nissen-Wade of Enheduanna's Daughter, Carrie Van Horn of Net Full of Butterflies, and Marian Kent of Runaway Sentence,  all beloved long-time members of Poets United. Let's not delay another minute! Let's dive right in.

Ghazal of the Air Element 

I introduce into the conversation

the subject of my death.

He decides to stop studying

and train as a nurse.

He asks where he can acquire

my poetry book.

His torch goes out; he gets lost

in the middle of a forest.

Walking through the bush

he blisters his toe.

Here at home I stub my toe and

burn my arm, which blisters.

Love oh love oh careless love ...

all love is in this one.

My soul is crying and crying

the pain of my joy.

Oh darling, my darling

time doesn't stand still.

I sing on the wind and arrange

to meet you later.

I want that you should live

a fine life and strong.


               ***

Sherry: Oh, Rosemary! I actually felt, in my heart, "the pain of my joy", as I read this. That says it exactly - the love, the memories, the joy, the pain of the whole damn thing. Sigh. What a brilliant poem. It's a beautiful form, the ghazal.

Rosemary: I first became aware of the 'ghazal' form about 12-15 years ago. I found it intriguing and beautiful. I didn't register until much later that one of my favourite poems since childhood, James Elroy Flecker's 'Yasmin', is subtitled 'A Ghazel' (sic). Flecker's (which has been featured at Poets United) has a strict form, not identical to what we are now told is correct for the ghazal, but very close to it – and is a beautiful demonstration of how to handle and transcend a strict form.

Other poems I saw labelled 'ghazals', though, did not bother with the traditional complex rhyme scheme, and at the time I encountered them (having missed that point about 'Yasmin') I didn't know any better. I found them fascinating and of course wanted to try for myself. They kept the other main feature of the ghazal, being written in a series of associated couplets: not in a linear sequence, but connected by theme. So that's what I thought a ghazal was, and that is what I attempted in this poem. It's my very first attempt. (I also missed the point that the lines are supposed to be the same length, and tend to be long.)  

I have since discovered and attempted the stricter form, and am now more inclined to call my others 'quasi-ghazals'. However, there are those who say the strict rules are a comparatively recent development. At dVerse, where this month's form prompt is the ghazal, we are invited to write either 'classical' (strict) or 'contemporary' (freer) ghazals, so I posted and linked this old one to see if people thought it made the grade. The fact that you wanted to feature it, Sherry, suggests that something's working! I do think contemporary or quasi-ghazals can make for interesting poems, even if they are not 'correct'. 

In either case, classical or freer, I like the way the lack of linear progression may create a degree of mystery. We are eager to be accessible nowadays – and for the most part I too strive for that, and think it desirable – but perhaps we forget that mystery (as distinct from mere obscurity) can also be a lovely quality in a poem.

Sherry: I think it is especially lovely in a poem. One wants that element of wonder, when fortunate enough to achieve it. Carrie's poem carries the same awareness of life and death as yours, Rosemary. Let's read:

SOULS AND HORSES

Like ghosts we walk through miracles never knowing how close 
we come
For we cannot see what we do not believe
But in another life we were horses
Where no fences gated our hearts
Free to be what we truly were
We galloped far beyond what could be seen
Grazing truth all the while
And always hungry for more
Like a mighty wind our spirits pushed through
Making themselves known to all
For freedom does not linger on regret
Nor feed on darkness
It moves on gallantly in the light of day
and those willing to let go
Will dare to jump any fence that comes their way
But that was another life and time
The rising dust of a distant star
Here we walk through miracles never knowing how close 
we come
Ghosts cannot touch, but merely pass by in silence
And we cannot see what we do not believe.

                        ***

Sherry: How I love "in another life we were horses....." This is such a gorgeous poem, Carrie!

Carrie: I wrote Souls and Horses for the Muse photo prompt. The photo was an older horse being stroked by a human hand and it made me think of how sometimes humans can be so limited by what they believe and what they see before them. Horses always represent such strength and freedom and the poem just grew from there. 

Photo by Tatiana from Pexels

Thank you so much for all you do Sherry! I am blessed to know so many talented and inspiring people on blogger at Poets United and other writing communities. You Mary, Sumana, Susan, Rosemary,  Magaly and Sanaa are amazing!

Sherry: Thank you, Carrie, for sharing your poetry with us, and for your long loyalty to Poets United. You were here in 2010, when I arrived. Smiles. 

Marian Kent was also one of our first members. Her poem expresses the way I have been feeling this past two years, watching our society unravel. Let's take a look.

Marian: I'm so flattered that you asked, and would be honored. I'm copying the poem below. I wrote it two years ago but unearthed it (because of that Facebook memories feature) and of course it is so much more relevant today than when I wrote it. Our society is broken, everything keeps breaking, I am broken, and yet am surrounded by love. As I'm sure many of us have been feeling. And it's been another cold and rainy spring here :)

Observing Love, Broken Things

I threw open a window

to melancholia

of cold and rainy spring

Lonely breezes blow in

like electricity

raising gooseflesh

straggled strands of hair

All I can think is

there’s so much love

yet everything is broken

Sherry: That is what creates so much grief and puzzlement in me, Marian. There is so much love, yet everything is broken. I am seeing and hearing things I never thought I would see in North America, so many hard-won human rights being rolled back. How we will put it all back together again is the question.

You said exactly what I feel but haven't known how to put into words. Thank you for closing this feature off so brilliantly, and for your long membership at Poets United.

Well, my friends? Food for thought in these poems, and emotions that resonate. Do come back and see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!

BLOG OF THE WEEK - AN UPDATE WITH CARRIE VAN HORN

This week we are zooming to Texas, to catch up with one of our very first members at Poets United, Carrie Van Horn, who has been with us since 2010.  Carrie has several blogs, including A Net Full of Butterflies, Dancing  With Elephants, and What  a Seagull Never Told You. Let's pour a cup of tea and see what she has been up to since we last spoke.

Sherry: Carrie, we last caught up with you in 2016. Would you bring us up to date? How are you doing? 

Carrie: Since then, I have had two major life changing experiences.  I survived Hurricane Harvey in 2017, but most of my belongings and apartment did not.  We moved to a sister apartment for 6 months, but at the advice of my kids, I purchased a house and am blessed to be living in a house in Humble, Tx for the last year. 

Sherry: My goodness! I didn't know you had gone through that! I am so glad your kids convinced you to buy a house, and are now comfortable, safe and sound.

Carrie:  Then it is with a great sorrow I share that we lost my oldest granddaughter Lauren Nicole to addiction last July.  There really are not words to express the heartache of that time.  It has been over 6 months and there is not a day that goes by that the loss is not stirring in our hearts.  I have a poem that I wrote for her; it is called, “Soul Song”.  Lauren loved music, and that is part of what inspired that poem.

Sherry: Carrie, there is nothing more heartbreaking in the world than to lose a child, all that light, all that promise, gone almost before she began to live. I am so very sorry. Our profound sympathy to you and your family.

SOUL SONG

Neither height nor depth can measure the possibilities of the human soul.

~James Lendall Basford

I am feathered in grief love and longing and I am caged in skin and bone

I hold the knowledge of something greater beckoning me onward

and calling me home.

Life must be perched closely but it cannot be held too tight.

It is a ballad that must not be silent and bird that has to fly.

Birds are kindred spirits never meant to perch right here for long.

As we are called to something bigger, we have a greater song.

This song rises within us like a sparrow unto its nest

Stirring like falling feathers from what once was to what is next.

The soul is a mighty presence that can ride the wind like birds in flight.

It is bigger than scientific theories, yet smaller than our sight.

It is a guest in a God made palace that someday will crumble down.

In a journey full of lessons of being lost and then being found.

For I am feathered in grief love and longing and caged in skin and bone

I hold the knowledge of something greater beckoning me onward

and calling me home.

For Lauren

source

Sherry: So very moving, and beautiful. "When we are called to something bigger, we have a greater song." She has such light in her face. A beautiful light gone out too soon.

Do you find writing helps you get through the tough times, Carrie?

Carrie: I have found over most of my life, that my muse seems the most alive when I am going through something difficult or heartbreaking.  Writing seems to help me share my feelings of loss and communicate my thoughts of what is happening before me.  So writing truly does help me cope in hard times

Sherry:   Me, too. I seem to process everything in my poems. I don't know what people do who don't write. Thank you for sharing Lauren with us, Carrie. We wish you and your family strength in your grief.  

Let's take a look at your poem “Head In the Clouds”, about being a poet.

HEAD IN THE CLOUDS

I am a poet and if I look right through you like you’re a window 

on a rainy afternoon

It is because my head is in the clouds dear friend

Pondering life like a scientist searches for a cure to the latest disease

I am a poet and if I walk right passed you like a snobby model on her way to 

a runway gig

It is because my head is in the clouds dear friend

Noticing the smallest things around me that inspire a poem

Like a geologist excavating through the smallest of rubble for bones

I am a poet and if I seem quiet like a shy child out in the city

It is because my head is in the clouds dear friend

My thoughts are louder than the voices around me

Like drums in a flute festival they drown out all other sounds

I am a poet and if I watch you like a kitten watches the red dot

It is because my head is in the clouds dear friend

Like a lover is fascinated by his latest love,

I will make you immortal in one stanza of poetry.

"This is Chance.

He is the sweetest dog ever."

Sherry: I so relate to looking through people because one’s head is in the clouds. Smiles.  I love the line about making someone immortal in a stanza of poetry. And I love your sweet boy, Chance.

How has blogging impacted your work and your life?

Carrie:  What I have loved about blogging is that from the beginning I felt it gave me a voice out beyond my desk; an audience that was truly listening, and could relate to me as a writer.  It has been such a blessing to meet so many other talented and inspiring writers at Poets United and all over blogger and word press. It has enriched my life and my writing in so many ways.   I have made so many amazing friends, and all of these gifted people have inspired me so much!  

I have definitely written more over the years because of all the great prompt sites, like Poets United, Imaginary Gardens, Magpie Tales, and many more.

  

Sherry: Me, too. I have written more since I came online than in my whole life before.

You have written very movingly about having lost your mother young, which impacted you profoundly.  Your prose piece “The Remembering”, and your poem “It Takes a Village” talk about this. Let’s look at the poem:

source

IT TAKES A VILLAGE         

If we lose our mother young
we search our whole life for her
in the faces of strangers
in the arms of those we hold dear
all the roads we take
lead to questions
we never ask
the silence of the unknowing

becomes the song we always sing

yet somewhere in the place

of holding on and letting go

we find

that she is all around us

in the void there is an outpouring

that fills up some of the empty places

women have a way of nurturing

the lost child

like the lioness in the pride

will care for another's young

the motherless child

will grow up

and one day

look back

and realize

they found many mothers

God provides one way or another

and that is the answer

to the questions

of a lost child.

Sherry: Beautiful, Carrie. This is very moving. 

Carrie: The poem was written for a photo prompt site I started with a fellow friend and blogger, Chrissa at Moon Pools and Mermaids.  I had recently written an essay about the memory of my Mom, who passed away when I was 9 years old, and the feeling I had over the years of grief was fresh on my mind.  The photo of the child reminded me of how in my loss of having a mother, many women came into my life, that became mentors, encouragers and true mothers.  The poem just grew from there. 

Sherry: It is wonderful how life sends us the people we need. I am glad other mothers found you, Carrie.

Carrie: It is a subject I have written about more than a couple times, because it was such a defining part of, not just my childhood, but my whole life.  I am delighted you loved it.

Sherry: I am wondering, thinking about this event in your childhood, when did you begin to write poetry? Do you remember that first poem and what it was about? How big was discovering poetry in your life?

Carrie:  A wonderful question Sherry.  I remember it very clearly.  I was 11 years old.  My father had just re-married, and due to a shortage of space at home for my 2 step brothers, my brother, and me, I had to give up my room.  All my belongings got packed up except clothes, so I did not have my toys to play with anymore.  I always watched a lot of television, and did some reading, but one day in boredom I sat at a desk and for no real reason, decided to write a poem.  

We lived in Sanger Tx and had a large piece of property.  It was an old house, and there were many wonderful trees.  I decided to write about my home and the trees.  It was called my forever home, and after I was finished, it made me feel good inside.  My love of writing grew from there, but I went many years without writing from my later teens to 30.  Most of my writing started in my early 30s.

Sherry: Is there another poem you would like to share with us? 

Carrie: I guess the extra one I added at the beginning about sweet Lauren could be that one, but if you are okay with me adding another one here, then I would choose, “The Only Way Out is Through”  It was written about my experience in Hurricane Harvey.

THE ONLY WAY OUT IS THROUGH

"We must build dikes of courage to hold back the flood of fear."

~Martin Luther King, Jr.

A wise poet once said, "The only way out is through",

 and when it comes to flooding that can be very true.

Sometimes you turn around and leave the way you came

and others it surrounds you and there is no quick escape.

You can start to wade through it or try to walk against the tide

but when it comes to flooding you're better off with a boat ride.

So as you hold your two allotted bags and leave the home you knew

remember with most recoveries the only way out is through.

The view of our apartment before we were rescued out by boat.

(Keep in mind this is on stilts already.  That is how high the water was already!)

It seems that the only time I get in a boat is to escape flooding.  I went through this a year and a half ago and again recently with "Harvey".  You do not realize how powerful water can be until you see it rush through an area and take up the land like a raging giant. I have grown to have a very respectful fear of water.  Frankly sometimes I feel like moving to Arizona, but all my family is here and here is where I will stay, just not on the lower floor of these apartments.  So many people in this area are trying to completely start over their lives with new homes or gutting out and rebuilding the ones they are in.  So much loss and so much to do to renovate and move on.  It is much like true recovery, where one must face the problems at hand, dig through the rubble, endure the cleanup, and carry it through to completion.  Like so many solutions in life, truly the only way out is through.

Sherry: Yes, there are times when the only way out is through. That water was deep! How scary!

Congratulations on having a book out, Carrie. It is beautiful. I love the title!

   

Available here.

Sherry: What other interests do you pursue when you aren't writing, Carrie?

Carrie: Over the last few years, I have been delving in drawing. My mother was an artist, and it has always fascinated and inspired me. It does not come natural for me, but I enjoy it.

Sherry: It's wonderful you share that gift with your mother, Carrie. Your work is beautiful! It must be so satisfying, creating something with your imagination that wasn't there before. Much like a poem, come to think of it.

Number one destination on your Bucket List?

Carrie: I would love to go to Ireland. That is where the grandmother I was named after was from. Carrie Lee Meredith.

Sherry: Best book you've read recently?

Carrie: I know it sounds bad, but I do not read much. The last book I read cover to cover that I loved was "The Secret Life of Bees".

Sherry: Favourite song?

Carrie: I have many songs I love, but I guess if I had to choose a favorite it would be "Stones In the Road" by Mary Chapin Carpenter.

Sherry: Thanks for this visit, Carrie. We would like to thank you for your loyalty all these years. We love your poetry and are so lucky we get to read it! Is there anything you'd like to say to Poets United?

Carrie: I am very honored to be featured here at Poets United. So many other poets inspire me so much at PU and I am blessed to be part of such a great writing community. Thank you, Sherry, for all you, Mary, Susan, Rosemary, Sumana and Magaly do to keep Poets United thriving.

Sherry: Thank you for your kind words, and for sharing your work and your thoughts here today, my friend. It has been such a pleasure.

Wasn't this a wonderful visit, my friends? Do come back and see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!

POEMS OF THE WEEK BY CARRIE VAN HORN AND SUSIE CLEVENGER

Sherry: Today, my friends, we are featuring amazing poems by two of Poets United's very first members, since way back in 2010: Carrie Van Horn, who blogs at A Net Full of Butterflies, and Susie Clevenger, of Confessions of a Laundry Goddess.  We think they will both move and inspire you. Let's dive right in.

   

PAPER CUTS AND LAND SLIDES

"Many of our fears are tissue-paper thin, and a single courageous 

step would carry us through."

~Brendan Francis

I never could walk in the rain with the ease of a star or runway model

I am not that girl

the one that takes the dangerous path

barefoot in the middle of nowhere

unconcerned with what may come

I am the lady that arrives early

to the Dr.'s office

on the verge of sickness

with an umbrella

not because it is raining

but because it could

when I leave the building

my bag is full of every document

known to man I could need

and my mind is even fuller

with the thought of

driving back in the rain

control is a small beady eyed old man

and no one knows his name

or where he was last

I have been trying to track him down

ever since grade school

I tried Marco Polo

but he was never listening

the only thing I have had control over

is my bladder

until about 2016

now it seems I could just throw caution to the wind

since not much remains in my hands anyway

jewel thiefs have ransacked my marble collection

it seems i never had them contained from the beginning

life is full of paper cuts and land slides

and somewhere between band aids and mud boots

I lost sight of the difference between the two

uncertainty is a scary thing 

especially when you are young

if you learn to fear and dread early

all perspective can get distorted

like the view through the wrong prescription glasses

all objects get blurry

everything becomes scary and uncertain

I am learning to change what I see

but this has proved to be a slow process

like road repair done by old nuns

still I try to make control my own ordained ministry

even though I am no minister

with time I have found

it is not what one acquires

that makes it clear

but more what one

learns in the process

of letting it go.

Sherry: I so wish I had written this poem. And I could have, for I am also the woman early at the doctor's office, in search of control in a world where very little can be controlled. I love the line about road repair done by old nuns, for my learning came slowly, too. LOVE the ending about learning to let it all go. You can't imagine how much that concept resonates for me today. Today's poems will, I hope, lift our spirits, and we need that these days.

Carrie: You have made my day!  I am delighted for you to feature this poem, and I am so glad you like it.  I wrote the poem specifically for a prompt and it kind of metamorphosed on its own as I wrote it. 

A wonderful lady that comes to a writing group I host at the library has been talking about identity, and one of the terms she used is "I am not that girl".....It resonated with me, and of course popped up in the poem as I wrote it. I started thinking about not just what I am in life, and what my struggles are, but also what I am not.  

Having the need for control in my life from such an early age has been a major struggle I have had to deal with, and the photo really led me in that direction.  Thank you so much for considering this poem.  I value your opinion greatly Sherry. You are such an amazing talent, and you hold a great wisdom of life and what matters under your wing and within your mighty pen. 

I love Susie’s poetry!!

And, yes, a lift of spirits is in order.  We all need it in these troubled times.

Sherry: While this feature was waiting to be posted, Carrie wrote another poem that knocked me out. I asked her if I might include it. This poem speaks of a recent tragic loss in Carrie's family. 


IT IS WHAT IT IS

Life is what we make it, always has been, always will be. ~Grandma Moses

~Sometimes my eyes are cactus near a flowing stream~

Life is like a dusty chandelier and the dimmer the setting
 the less you can see what can be done. 

~Sometimes my lips are bankrupt in a solemn fortress~

Life is like a triple scoop ice cream cone
and if you do not eat it earnestly while you can
it will melt all over and leave a big mess

~Sometimes my heart feels like just a spoon of pepto in a world of disease~

Life is like a crystal vase upon a table
it is meant to be filled with beautiful flowers not be empty on a shelf.

~Sometimes my feet are red wood trees in a fast moving blaze~

Life is like a tall rocky mountain
it is majestic and an inspiration to stand before yet also an utter struggle to climb.

~Sometimes my hands are frail like bent limbs on a dying tree~

Life is like an unbridled horse
that runs free out of our control
yet still we try to tame it.

[Note:

I have spent many years not seeing what I should, not relishing what I could, not being all I could be,  and trying to control what was out of my hands. It seems some lessons do not come easy.  Gaining wisdom has been like taming an unbridled horse.  It is hard, and it is going to take some time.  I suppose life is meant to be a process of learning and growth.  If it were meant to be easy, it would be.  I just feel a bit weary sometimes.  I am a slow learner and I have the bunions to prove it.    I am in need of a true vacation, maybe a trip to the beach to just walk the shore, count my blessings, and pick up some sea shells along the way. ]  

Carrie: As you know, I recently went through a devastating loss, and I had been thinking about life and all the struggles and loss we experience throughout our lives. The poem kind of grew from there. Thank you again, Sherry, for thinking of me.

Sherry: Thank you so much, Carrie. My condolences to you and your family on your very tragic loss. I resonate with your weariness so much. I hope you can take that beach walk soon.

When Susie wrote the following two poems, I knew I wanted to feature them. Let's take a look.

ONE LESS TEAR

In the valley of illness every stone bruises

as it presses into another unchanged hour

of breath bleeding closer to the tomb.

Have you ever watched your child suffer? I am.

Desperation collects its hand maids to birth despair,

tries to force me into the clotted womb of hopeless.

These are the times I must fly with broken wings,

fight melancholy’s gravity by on less tear,

and seek light in the coal night of uncertain.

My eyes must show tomorrow there will be sun

so the midnight of my child will know morning will come,

mortar my helpless into trust the sky won’t fall.

It is true. One never knows how strong the spirit can be

until there is no other option, no other view but hope,

no other words but... Don’t Give Up.

Dawn's bracelet, epitomizing the battle

she has fought for her health

Sherry: Susie, I know your family has just emerged from your daughter Dawn's health crisis. I applaud your mother lion heart, holding your child fast to the earth with the force of your will. A mother's strength, a family's love, and a daughter's courage has seen you through, no giving up. I am so thankful that Dawn has recovered.

Susie: "One Less Tear" came from the agony of watching my daughter, Dawn, fight through another health crisis. She has been on the battlefield for twenty-five years, but for us this has been one of the scariest.

She has had numerous surgeries, and lost her left kidney to cancer, but our family had never watched her suffer such extremes, losing over 25 pounds in six weeks, heart failure, kidney failure, agonizing pain, and so weak she couldn't stand. There were times all we could pray was for her not to give up.

Writing is healing therapy for me. There were many days I couldn't speak with my voice what I could speak through poetry. I needed to express the grief of watching my child suffer while being helpless to stop it. I needed to give myself permission to say I was terrified.

Sherry: There is nothing more terrifying for a mother than seeing her child suffering. You are such a strong family, Susie.  Soon after "One Less Tear", I read "Shaman Sunflower" with such appreciation.  Your spirit is much like that sunflower's to me. When bodies are challenged, spirits rise.

SHAMAN SUNFLOWER

Sunflowers ribbon their way

into my daydreams in subtle nods

to the yellow marble owning the sky.

Oh, to have such strength, bloom

when the eye is a desert void

of a single tear, and stand tall

in the withering.

Joy comes where happy can’t survive.

Dear blossom, you remind me even

the driest heart can drink light if it chooses.

Sherry: WOW, Susie! "The driest heart can drink light if it chooses." Yes, it can. My heart soared, when I read these words. Thank you. I love the whole idea of sunflower as shaman.

Susie: This poem came soon after I wrote "One Less Tear". I was spiritually and physically weak from watching my daughter suffer in her latest health battle, and one of my biggest comforts is nature, so I rflected on sunflowers I saw blooming in a garden I passed when returning home with Dawn after her latest hospital stay. 

Sherry: I can imagine the joy and relief of that ride home with your precious daughter.

Susie: I've always loved sunflowers. The simple act of speaking their name opens me to hope and light. With all the heat we'd been experiencing, where I live in Texas, many flowers were wilting from the sun and lack of rain, but those sunflowers I saw in that garden were standing tall. It was a message to me to open myself to light, to allow it to dispel the darkness that had been homesteading with its carpet bag of fear in my spirit.

Sherry: In tough times, the courageous choose to turn their faces to the light. I so admire your warrior spirit, Susie, and Dawn's. We wish her continued health. May she continue to shine like the suflower in your wonderful poem.

Thank you so much, Carrie and Susie, for sharing your poems and thoughts. We admire your courage in walking through your recent challenges, and for being such a source of strength to your families. 

Thank you also for your long loyalty to Poets United. We appreciate you!

Wasn't this moving and inspiring, my friends?  Do come back and see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!