Welcome to Poetry Party #47!
I select an image and suggest a theme/title and invite you to respond with your poems or other reflections. Scroll down and add your responses in the comments section below. Feel free to take your poem in any direction and then post the image and invitation on your blog (if you have one) and encourage others to come join the party! (permission is granted to reprint the image if a link is provided back to this post)
On Friday, October 8th, I will draw a name at random from the participants and send the winner a signed copy of my book Water, Wind, Earth, and Fire: The Christian Practice of Praying with the Elements.
Today is the Feast of St. Francis, the wonderful mystic who saw the wonder of God in all of creation. He is perhaps best known for his Canticle of the Sun where Francis expresses deep kinship with nature by regarding sun and moon, the four sacred elements, and even Death as siblings. On this day, many churches offer blessings to our companion animals as a way of honoring how integral they are to our lives. At 13-years old our rescued Weimaraner, Abbess Petunia, has been showing signs of her age. However she still offers me daily wisdom in learning how to simply be present to the truth of this moment. Part of the wisdom of creatures for me is in their sheer otherness and willingness to enter our lives with such exuberance.
I invite you for our Poetry Party this week to write an Ode to Animal Wisdom or your own Canticle of Creation!
You may also like:
- this week's winner . . .
- Art, Delight, and the Spiritual Life (a guest post at Anam Cara)
- Letting a Word Choose You
- The Vulnerability of the Body
- Holy Saturday Sign
TANKED
By Susan J. Hetrick
She
is a blonde fish who
does not swim.
She
rocks on the bottom or
rocks on a rock and struggles
moving heavenward when
she
hungers.
Her mother of invention is
a study of fertility in black and white
producing
a million possibilities
like clockwork.
She -
the sole survivor –
is a blonde fish who
does not swim.
For effect
she
lies on her side
but does not die,
and is no longer
Silent.
Old Cat
She sleeps on the highboy
curled, by the mirror
for hours and hours
she doesn't stir
and when she does,
she sees herself-
surprised to be
yet in body, alive-
slightly dimmed
and off to one side;
she stares at her people
adrift, moving by,
as if that other world
might lend some light
to exercise her will
to flight: an imagined
Big Leap
to the other side,
already framed
in her other eyes-
but still
a dream
away
'surprised to by yet in body' oh what a wonderful phrase – I have cat who I think experiences that too!! How fun!!
"Those ole feet smell funny"
quibs my cat, "BeBop", whom
like his name, knows that feet are
for dancing and prancing and
showing off!
"I bet he can't do a double
twirl jump"!!
Submitted via proxy, BeBop
My Gentle Friends
When I return they always run out to see me.
When I have had a bad day
or I feel needy
or I need to be around ‘real life’
that bounces and moves
I go to visit my chickens.
Their life seems simple.
Their desires seem few.
And they always know what to do.
Their simplicity calms my desires.
Their pleasant clucks bring me peace.
These gentle friends
feed my stomach with their eggs
and my soul with their presence.
[...] It's Poetry Party over at Abbey of the Arts. This week's theme "Ode to Animal Wisdom" is in honor of the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi, which was on Monday. Many churches (including mine) have pet blessings on the Sunday closest to Francis' feast. This week's picture is of the paws of Christine's doggie, Abbess Petunia. [...]
Here's mine!
“Companion”
I hear the soft pad of paws
on the hard wood floor
And know I’m not alone.
A picture of me and my familiar is up at my site: http://www.shawnaatteberry.com/2010/10/05/poetry-party-47-companion/
Oh the bliss
of feet at rest
a warm place to nap
a dream to savor
collapsing into life
Those Paws and Me
For eons
you were before me.
Strong,
Adapting,
Flexible,
Were you preparing for me?
Pads
Of grounding.
You come
In service
To Life.
How could it be I am so blessed and graced by You?
Paws.
Showing me how
to be in the present moment.
Paws.
Showing me how
to be in the present moment.
Pause.
The Vicars of St. Petersburg
I met three cats in Petersburg:
The literary, postal, and religious.
I danced with one cat in the snow,
At dusk, outside the Fountain House,
Where Akhmatova’s ghost is kept alive.
Another got his noggin scratched. He sat
Upon the wood post office counter,
Quite content. A third,
The sole parishioner (or priest?)
Of Saints Peter and Paul Cathedral,
Blessed me briefly, and moved on.
Jill and I
we love our babies
Jill and I
nestling bodies
tiny skulls
sweet sipping mouths
we look into each other's eyes
Jill and I
share the same joy
in accomplishment
in the grand fertility of life
Congratulations Jill! I say
as I softly close
the linen closet door
on her proud purr
carry my own little baby
to the rocking chair
now
both of us nursing
our precious babies
Jill and I
The Heart Takes Its Space
Eyes narrate
a story:
how a leg
bends before going
up in air
how a muscle tears
in the coming down
Teeth bare
but the eyes
only let you know
the fear
how it stifles
the welcome home
Tail pitiful
gets the story
moving again
the limp fixed
and imprinted
Months of getting
well before
the pulls
and tugs
the game we play
become his shout
a deep throat
of freedom
a dog’s life
And then the failing
begins
and in its rush
past loving
what love
can do
The heart takes
its space
filling up
© 2010 Maureen E. Doallas
___________________________
We're facing the decision to euthanize our beloved Westie, our sweet boy Seamus who has been with us almost 11 years, since his rescue at an age of five to eight (we never had records for him, only knowledge of the abuse from which he'd been rescued). We've run out of medical options. Antibiotics are useless against compromised health and the effects of aging in a body giving out. Even love, which we give him in abundance, isn't enough any more. And yet the heart takes its space filling up. MD
I am so sorry you will have to endure this grief and loss! What greater love tho' than to let go and let God! I pray for your precious dog's transition and your New Normal! Namaste.
doggie paws peddling
as you dream, now in heaven
do you dream of us?
looking in your eyes
deepest brown
like his, but not
his
you’re into everything
he was not
chasing, digging
no sense of space
with cars or cats
or me
running straight
at cars so fast
I cannot catch
you
and you, you’re
not a pup anymore
you know
those are white hairs
there round your
nose
wise
you are not wise
but you are
loving, insistent
there
at the door ready to go
every minute of the day
I am not sure
what to do with you
willing, mostly
to walk
there and back
and let you run
free
all, I think I can give
not drawn into
deep brown eyes
as I was
and you are
more free, with this
than you have ever been
~melo
[...] written in response to Abbey of the Arts Poetry Party#47, Ode to Animal Wisdom, and One Word at a Time, Blog Carnival – [...]
[...] of praying with nature and honoring the earth, this week's Poetry Party was as amazing as usual. I apologize that I can't respond to every poem shared, but please know [...]
my "son" is my sun
he inspires me to do things I would not do
walk among strangers
take time to be aware
laugh and play
see the world though a child
live a day at a time
give love to those in need
it is the dog's way