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)
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!
51 Responses
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
doggie paws peddling
as you dream, now in heaven
do you dream of us?
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.
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 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.
Paws.
Showing me how
to be in the present moment.
Pause.
Paws.
Showing me how
to be in the present moment.
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?
yes . . .
Oh the bliss
of feet at rest
a warm place to nap
a dream to savor
collapsing into life
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/