ON POETRY ~ WITH MARIAN KENT AND SUSIE CLEVENGER

Following last week's chat with Shay and Kelli about poetry and blogging, I asked the same questions of two more poets who have been around since we all began writing online with such heat in 2010. Marian Kent, who blogs at runaway sentence, and Susie Clevenger of Confessions of a Laundry Goddess are sharing their thoughts on poetry and blogging and I, for one, am so happy about this! 

BLAME IT ON THE BEACH

The beach was weird
sassy breeze pushing waves
to throw rocks at our shins
rain and lifeguards
clearing the water
because of marine life
       (unspecified)
All this in bathing suits
never my favorite
but we pranced and played
sat our fine asses in the sand
for waves to wash over
flicked our hair
       (caught glances)
bleated like goats
pronounced the ocean female
laughed and laughed and laughed
cried hey sister ocean
here we are
sassy and strong and shining

Marian Kent  © 8.08.2019

Sherry: I adore the sass in this poem. Tell us about it!

Marian: I'm so glad this resonated for you, Sherry. It is a simple reflection about how it felt at the beach earlier this summer with my daughter. We both had such a good time, feeling unburdened, enjoying a cool and somewhat strange beach day, and really enjoying one another. Putting aside concerns for a few hours. Not caring what anyone might think. Feeling connected, to each other and to our natural environs. Laughing a lot!

Sherry: It sounds perfect!

Talk to us about poetry: When did you start writing poetry? What does poetry mean to you, what do you love about it?

Marian: I started writing poems at a young age, and wrote a lot in college and as a young adult. But then I put writing aside for quite a few years. I'm not really sure exactly why, but I did continue to scribble in a journal during that time. I bet if I looked back at those old books there would be plenty of poem fodder in there. When my kids were very young I started writing poems again, and then I started the runaway sentence, which started as a sort of mom-blog or soapbox, but almost immediately became a poetry blog. Thank goodness, whew.

Poetry for me is a chance to express or make a brief but (hopefully) meaningful observation. I like using words sparingly, making every single word count. I think I'm always trying to find new ways of describing ordinary moments, feelings, experiences that can be recognized and understood by anyone. I'm going for universal in the specific, or for something anyone could recognize in a metaphor. For me, writing poems requires both abstraction and direct communication, a challenge that I really love.

Sherry: And we love reading you!  What impact has blogging had on your work? Has it helped you grow as a poet?

Marian: Blogging has had a tremendous impact on me. For you, too, right? I mean, Sherry, you and I met because of blogging and my life is so much sweeter as a result!

Sherry: Mine, too, kiddo. My writing was drying up for lack of connection with other writers, when I stumbled on Poets United back in 2010. I will be forever grateful for what that connection has done for my life and my writing.

Marian: I'm so grateful for your friendship and for the whole circle of blogging friends around us. I have been really lifted up and supported by our online community.

Sherry: Me, too, Marian. I am more grateful than I can say for these almost-ten so-rich years.

Marian: Our community of poets challenging one another with prompts and providing gentle critique and encouragement and friendship is simply amazing. It is a blessing.

I'm sure without blogging, I would still be writing, but to be accountable to our online group is really meaningful. Responding to prompts, creating prompts, reading the work of others and providing meaningful commentary, it's all a part of growing, I think. My skill has definitely grown and improved over the years, and I have observed the same in many of our friends as well. It's great to witness a writer working to improve her craft, and to take that journey alongside friends is a wonderful thing. I really admire the writing and the practice of so many of our friends here, and get inspiration from you all.

My blog will celebrate ten years next spring. I'm aware that blogging is evolving, maybe going out of fashion. That is bittersweet, but we cannot continue to grow as writers or as people without change. So I'm good with all of it and feel very grateful and excited for whatever comes next. The runaway sentence blog will always ramble on, and I have a few ideas I'm working on to change things up for the coming decade and beyond.

  

Sherry: We will be watching with great anticipation, Marian!

IF YOU WERE STILL

If you were still,
I could watch the
sun set in your eyes.
I could see what leads
you to brush and paint,
to capture a horizon.

If you were still,
I could hear you
talk to the moon.
I would learn your
night language,
the dream song
of the nightingale
delivering starlight.

If you were still,
I could feel poetry
splash on your skin
in a summer rain.
I would know how
words bloom from
the tip of your pen.

If you were still,
I’d lose my way
to imagination.
I wouldn’t know
a dandelion was
a heart where
wishes seed.

©Susie Clevenger 2019


Sherry: I so adore those closing lines, “a heart where wishes seed.” Wow.  Tell us a bit about this poem, Susie.

Susie: At Real Toads Sanaa Rizvi used Pablo Neruda’s poem, "I Like for You to be Still", as a prompt for our writing. I began to think of all things one could discover in the stillness of a lover or a friend, but also, in the end, if stillness became a command to surrender one’s free spirit, the loss would be unfathomable. It is in stillness and in movement we experience the true beauty of someone. I like to view it as caring with open hands, doing nothing to inhibit free expression.

Sherry: I love that, Susie. Would you share your thoughts about poetry with us? How important is it to you?

Susie: Poetry has been my lifeline. It is a journal of what I feel, hear, see, and experience. I can’t imagine life without it. Even in the first year and a half of my blog, when only one person read it, I wasn’t discouraged, but energized I had an avenue of expression. When I write poetry, I open myself to inspiration. I have a small totem I created that hangs above my desk that centers me, that reminds me even on the days my muse is silent poetry is patient, patient even in times I rail against writer’s block and self criticism.

I begin most of my writing time with a small ceremony. I either open the shades if it is daylight or at night turn on a small glass lamp sitting next to my desk to invite light into my space. I then light incense to calm me, to invite creativity and growth.

I am grateful for my laptop. I am right-handed and writing by hand is becoming more difficult. I have a condition called dupuytren's contracture which forms knotted tissue in my palm. It affects the fine motor coordination, so holding a pen/pencil and writing legibly is a problem.

All the lovely journals I’ve purchased sit empty.

Sherry: Thank heaven for our keyboards!  Has the online poetry world had an impact on your work, Susie?

Susie: Oh my, yes, it has. My connection to online poets has been such a huge resource to learn from. I have met so many poets who have inspired me and been my mentors. I don't think I would be writing at any acceptable level without it. 

I hadn't written poetry since high school. I look back to the first poems on my blog and shake my head at how poorly written they are. I am so grateful to be part of a community of people who write and love poetry. People who encourage me to continue in the art form I am so passionate about.

Sherry: I admired your work back then with awe, just as I do today, Susie. What a glorious journey it has been!

Thank you, Marian and Susie, for sharing your thoughts on poetry and blogging with us. It has been a wonderful chat looking back on an amazing journey.

Do come back, and see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!

BLOG OF THE WEEK : CHATTING WITH SUSIE CLEVENGER

Today, my poet friends, we are chatting with one of the very first members at Poets United, Back In the Day, Susie Clevenger, who blogs at Confessions of a Laundry Goddess, Black Ink Howl, Susie’s Sentences, and her new blog, The Sound of Ink. Susie lives in Houston, Texas, with her husband. She has two daughters, of whom she is extremely proud. Let's chat, and see what she's been up to!

Sherry: Susie, it is so nice to be catching up with you. I love your long hair! Bring us up to date, kiddo. How are you and your family doing?

Susie: We are doing well, so glad to have 2018 behind us. Dawn is doing much better, and our youngest daughter, Carrie, is busy as ever with her job at The Art Colony. 

Dawn

Carrie

Charlie and I will have a busy schedule this summer with my 50^th class reunion this month and summer tours with Mike Zito and his band.

Me and the Band

Sherry: Touring with a band! What fun! Tell us about that!

Susie: Mike Zito came into our lives late in 2007. Dawn at that point had already suffered years of autoimmune related illnesses, and it was taking an emotional and physical toll on my husband and I. We had always loved live music, so on a whim we decided to attend a local bar to hear Mike play so we could focus on something other than sickness. 

Well, we became instant fans. Shortly after that we became close friends. We now travel across the country with him whenever we can in whatever capacity he needs us. At times it is just as fans/family, but a good part of the time we work for him selling his merchandise. 

Although, I don't feel it is work. You can't put a price on joy. We call him our adopted son. His band members are part of our chosen family also. Music is healing. I am so thankful for that first evening we heard Mike. It was life changing.

Sherry: It sounds joyful indeed. Nothing like being involved in live music, and touring sounds like nothing but fun. 

Your latest book, Splinters, has just come out. Congratulations! Would you tell us a bit about it?

Available here

Susie: The book is co-written with the talented poet, Ben Ditmars. He approached me with the concept of writing a poetry collection with a target audience of young adults, but which would also appeal to readers much older. It is a poetic journey through childhood to adulthood. There are topics addressed in it from silly to serious. For example some of the poem titles are, Pimple Popper, Indoor Boy, Bra Capping, and Confused. There are some splinters that barely puncture the skin and there are others that go deep into a lifetime.

Sherry: What a wonderful concept! I hope lots of teens get to read it.

You are recently back from the Lucidity Retreat. Do tell us about it.

Susie at Lucidity

Susie: This was my third time to attend the retreat. Its location in Eureka Springs, Arkansas is the perfect place for it. It has a strong writing/art community and exquisite scenery. Lucidity’s mission is to gather poets together to learn, participate in creative critique of their work, and open themselves to incredible life changing experiences.

This year’s featured lecturers were Nathan Brown and Dr. Charlotte Renk. Nathan is an author, songwriter, and an award winning poet, as well as Oklahoma’s Poet Laurette 2013 to 2014. He lives in Wimberley, Texas. Charlotte is an award winning poet who teaches English and Humanities at Trinity Valley Community College in Athens Texas.

I can’t properly express the gratitude I feel for having had the privilege of being able to sit with such talented poets and leaders, to feel their passion for poetry and gather knowledge on how to become a better writer.

 Susie and Group at Lucidity

Nathan Brown shared he has a ritual when he sits down to write. It begins with brewing coffee, preparing his mind to be open to creativity, and when he’s home, writing in the small space he’s personalized with items that have significant meaning to him. He writes every day. It doesn’t matter if it is good or not. Poetry won’t come if he hasn’t kept an open channel for it to speak. Nathan’s latest book is 100 Years, a poem for each year of life from 1 to 100.

An excerpt from 73- Thumb Twiddling

“So much time on his hands.

He doesn’t know what to do

with all these hours that pile up

like unanswered letters thrown on

to a desk where he no longer works.”

Charlotte Renk often writes about nature. She lives in a house in the woods with windowed walls without curtains. Whether she is outside or inside nature is always in full display. She is immersed in inspiration. In her latest book, The Great Turtle Heart (the Tao of Turtlism) she draws on biology, myth, folklore, history and literature to describe the journey of a box turtle.

An excerpt from Mobile Home

“When survival’s frenetic stress is too much,

the seeking, the getting, the struggle,

she remains unimpressed by mirages

of any kind”

Sherry:  It all sounds wonderful, Susie. What a privilege, to be there.

I adore a recent poem of yours, “Feathers Wild as Dandelion Seeds”. I would love to share it here, if I may.

FEATHERS WILD AS DANDELION SEEDS

I always dream of wings. There is within me the desire to fly, to feel the wind’s breath guiding me to where dreams roam wild, where feathers are ink and pen. I believe it is because I carry the weight of my mother’s lost dreams. I saw them in her eyes as she searched every face to see if she could find the soul who could read the stars she couldn’t translate into words. I’m not sure why she left them with me, but I feel them whenever poetry floats just beyond my reach, in the urgency to find my voice in silence.

Where are my wings,
green feathers wild
as dandelion seeds?

Let me climb the tallest oak
so I can hear the sky speak
of the sun’s love of the moon,
and feel the wind teach me
how to fly the grass I walk.

Take me where poetry nests
in the hungry heart of my muse.

Sherry: This is so lovely. I love poetry nesting in the heart of your muse. Are there two more poems you would like to share?

Too Close to the Edge

       

The midnight lake puts its lips

to my eyes and drinks every

starlight wish swimming in hazel.

Not satisfied with the brew of visions

it sends watery death into my lungs

to flood my last breath of July.

Thrashing in waves of lost I am tossed

the life preserver of 1:00 am and a cat

purring rescue across my chest.

Shaken I reach for pen and paper

beside my bed and pray my muse

has escaped the drowning pool of empty.

                        *  *  *

My Chair of Tears

Sunflowers weep brittle petals

from their frosted death mask,

and I beg spring to come and

take the funeral from my garden.

Winter has written so many

entries in its journal of bone chill

I breathe its story each morning.

Pain walks through my thighs

on the command of a barometer,

a stab here, a burn there…

a Pinocchio dance on legs

too stiff to react as human.

In my chair of tears I wonder

if this petrification will bring me

closer to humility or will I merely

live my own wasting one splinter at a time.

If not for love, I would make my own

journey to spring, but to pill myself

into eternity would break the heart

of a man who would bear my pain

if the universe would allow him.

Hope is truly fragile, a paper thin glass

one demon away from shattering.

I must have faith I’m a day closer

to a robin song, and not a hymn sung

where I am coffined in silence.

                *  *  *

Sherry: I love "I'm a day closer to robin song." When did you begin writing poems, Susie? What do you love about poetry?

Susie: I started writing poetry when I was fifteen. I love poetry because it helps me write out some of the thoughts that tumble through my head. My therapist once asked me I kept a journal as part of my therapy. At first I said no, but then I realized my poetry is my journal. I am empath and wild weed. Poetry is healing.

Sherry: How has blogging impacted your work and companioned your muse?

Susie: Blogging has made a huge impact. I came to the blogging world a stumbling, infant poet, and because of the influence of talented poets I’ve met here at Poets United and at Real Toads I have learned to walk with a bit of confidence I have something to say others might like to read. As far as my muse is concerned, she loves the prompts and images provided to inspire her to whisper words into my pen. The two things she doesn’t like are poetry forms and rhymes because she knows I’m not good at either.

Sherry: I beg to differ. But I find forms challenging, too. What other interests do you pursue when you aren’t writing? 

Susie: I began about a year a go designing and making jewelry pendants as well as sun catchers. I find it calming. I don’t worry or struggle for words when I am working with wire and beads. It is the free flow of creating that intrigues me.

Sherry: Your work is beautiful, Susie!

 

Available here       Available here         Available here



Susie: Oh, I forgot, I did an author fair May 18, and Carrie Thackeray Van Horn was also there. I am including the photo.

Author Fair

Sherry: It is so cool you and Carrie were at the same event! How wonderful! Two of our first members!

Susie: Also I have a new poetry blog, The Sound  of Ink. 

Confessions of a Laundry Goddess  is the grand dame of my work, but I just felt I needed another one. :)  It is brand new with a couple of poems, but it will be growing. 

Sherry: Yay! We'll be watching. Is there anything you’d like to say to Poets United?

Susie: Gratitude, I don’t think I can say it enough. I came upon Poets United quite by accident. I had written a poetry blog for over a year with only one man reading it. I knew it wasn’t very good. I wanted to learn, find better ways to express myself through poetry. 

Dear poets, thank you for having patience as I grew, and continue to grow. You have been part of my healing path after a brain injury in 2006. There were parts of my memory erased. I once did scrapbooking. That is what I am told any way. I opened a bedroom closet door where the entire shelf was filled with decorative paper, albums, etc. I turned to Charlie and said, “Who does this?” Poetry returned when I so desperately needed it.

Sherry: We are so happy that it did, and we are the beneficiaries. Thank you, Susie, for this wonderful update. And for your long participation at Poets United.

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

POEMS OF THE WEEK ~ BY BRENDAN, SHAY AND SUSIE

Friends, today we have poems penned by three maestros of online poetry: Brendan MacOdrum, of Oran's Well, Shay Simmons, known to us as Fireblossom, of Shay's Word Garden  and Black Mamba, and Susie Clevenger, who blogs at Confessions of a Laundry Goddess and Black Ink Howl. You will be familiar with them from this site, as well as from their regular participation at our sister site, Imaginary Garden With Real Toads. Today's poems demonstrate just how much impact a poem can have. Each of these poems stayed with me for days after reading them, and I knew I wanted to share them with you. Let's jump right in.

Prayer For the Whales

Vanishing gods, with you

go our heat and heart,

the tamp of descents

no lamp can reach.

But that is not prayer.

May your extinction

ring the long bell of the sea;

May the crash and bellow

of your diving thrash

make our hearing of it

a halving beyond night.

Make vast this foundering

into the unfound,

church without vicarage,

cry without cross.

We have taken your last child.

May our oil burn that low.

Wrap this prayer

around your ghost rib

that we may harrow

what only death

now can whale.

Your lost song

deepens our sorrow

into abyss—:

The lonely sanctus

of tomorrows upending,

your much amiss.

Tomb Jonah and Ahab

in your mouth’s scrimshaw.

Drown our amen

in your whalefall.

***

Sherry: "Your lost song deepens our sorrow", indeed, Brendan. I am thinking of Talequah, carrying her dead calf on her nose for seventeen days, grieving. What a sorrowful world we have made for the creatures.

Brendan: Whales--perhaps all cetaceans--are a totem animal for me. On my father's family crest, a naked man rides a sea-beast; my avatar St. Brendan celebrated Easter for seven years on the back of the whale Jasconius, Moby Dick is a dark Bible in my reading. Search "whale" or "seal" or "dolphin" on my blog and you'll see.

But the oceans are changing faster than the land due to human activity, we just don't notice it (the surface of the sea is the same every day). We may be the last generation to see whales in oceans.

I had been reading about a nunnery in Japan where two elderly nuns continue to pray for the souls of whales killed by their fishing village--even a century after the traditional practice came to an end. As the Anthropocene brings about the Sixth Extnction event, I wondered what on Earth we, the complicit, could pray for the last vanishing whales.

Sherry: I wonder, too. We don't deserve forgiveness. I am glad of the nuns praying, though. And for your poem, which speaks to our shared plight so eloquently. Thank you, Brendan.

Shay's poem struck my heart so forcefully, I am still thinking about it. Let's dive in.

THE WHALES OF DETROIT

Ask anybody at a bus stop or down by the river--

there aren't any whales in Detroit.

It's lies.

I hear them all the time.

On Woodward Avenue, whales.

At John King books, whales down every row of shelves.

At the Old Mariners' Church, whales in the bells.

You are so thin, so sad.

I look at the great scarred heads of the whales and think of you.

In the aging overhanging trees beside the crack houses, whales. 

Under the 8 Mile Road overpass, whole pods of whales.

In your eyes, the sea

and the coiled rope of our pasts which holds the harpoon. 

There are whales in Detroit.

There is me, with my long hair tucked inside the collar of my pea coat.

From my hair I hear the waves.

There is you, outside a pawn shop between Hubbell and Greenfield,

giving the monkey a Nantucket sleigh ride. 

There is salt spray on my face,

and you, far out on the horizon, spyhopping,

then nodding for the deeps like all the rest--the whales of Detroit.

_______


Sherry: That coiled rope of the past, with its harpoon. The whale, spyhopping, looking for a safe place to be. The thought of their ancient wildness, as we walk grey city streets, a wildness we miss and long for, that is fast disappearing. This poem hurts to read. And I am so glad you wrote it!

Shay: I was feeling distressed when I wrote "Whales of Detroit". About the whole political situation, and also i wanted to write something about my poor city, which has undergone such hard times. While the poem has nothing to do with the Kavanaugh hearings per se, it IS about the elephant --or whale-- in the room; that is to say, the thing that is too big to not be seen. And what i see is at once sad and brave and criminal and heartbreaking. And so i wrote that poem. I cried when I wrote it, so it really came from the heart.

May I say how happy I am to appear with two such marvelous poets. Thanks for thinking of me.

Sherry: Thanks for sharing your heartrending poem, Shay.

I knew I needed a third poem that would match the power of these two, so when Susie posted the following poem, I lost no time asking her if I might include it.

MATCH TO WATER

I hear the water cry,
“I am your safety”,
but drowning sings
its dirge across my chest.

Hope urges faith
can walk across the sea…
My wounds burn in brine’s no
as I bleed another tear into the tempest.

Memory’s mutiny has unleashed suppressed,
and I feel the anchor of ghosts freed
from Davy Jones’ locker.

I am a fish forced to once again
swim a dead sea I thought I’d conquered.
I pray the demon’s spear will pierce the last revelation
so I will no longer fear a shadow will come to snuff my candle.

__________

Sherry: I feel like that fish, forced to swim a dead sea she thought she had conquered, as we watch fifty years of hard-won human rights and protections being rolled back or tossed out. We are indeed bleeding tears into the tempest.

Susie: My poem Match to Water was written from hearing the news and reading social media comments relating to why women won’t report sexual violence, and if they do, why it takes years for them to speak about it. It is a very personal topic for me. I am a childhood sexual abuse survivor. It took me fifteen years to tell anyone about it. Because of the current conversations new details I had suppressed in my own horror have begun to surface.

I have often gone to sit along the water to find peace and comfort, but having lived through several hurricanes I also know the terror of it. Just like those massive, destructive storms form in heated water my mind began to churn with current events and opinions from those who have never lived the nightmare of sexual trauma. The poem became the vehicle that made me realize I needed help. I am currently seeing a therapist to guide me through revelations I can’t manage alone.

Sherry: Thank you for the impact of this poem, and for speaking about it. The issues raised in these three poems are  made so much worse by recognising that those in power care nothing about their constituents, women or the environment.

I imagine millions of women have been distressed by the message of recent weeks. I’m glad you have sought support. I sought help myself over the grief I carry for what is happening to the planet I love so much, and for Pup, who has always represented wilderness to me. But the grief is so raw I couldn’t even speak, only cry. It hurts too much to talk about.

Thank you, Brendan, Shay and Susie, for this exceptional trio of powerful poems. You put voice so well to the bleak lens we are looking through these days. 

These poems certainly show us the impact a poem can have, do they not, 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!