tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6993976596894556152024-03-28T23:29:55.603-04:00Merely Day By DayCathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.comBlogger657125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-78644207764407840482023-05-05T07:42:00.000-04:002023-05-05T07:42:22.795-04:00Poetry Friday: Put Away Your Judgment Pen<p><i></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJNQNYd5MSdpqWOjOv_gMMoouf1xZjakgkmGje81RrfEAK5eUicN5Co_g66BCe2SdS9gTO1v0RJm0pwX6v3hgdqc28b8FcBAlqN_6jipYM8Aqao0zebjVIAYv2KfAbRkP7WOTlLtTddqCdYkkVXBMSppTPOsIXISpKaTQj8ZUlofk-p_wpTA27dfct/s115/Screen%20Shot%202013-03-22%20at%2010.58.23%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="75" data-original-width="115" height="75" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJNQNYd5MSdpqWOjOv_gMMoouf1xZjakgkmGje81RrfEAK5eUicN5Co_g66BCe2SdS9gTO1v0RJm0pwX6v3hgdqc28b8FcBAlqN_6jipYM8Aqao0zebjVIAYv2KfAbRkP7WOTlLtTddqCdYkkVXBMSppTPOsIXISpKaTQj8ZUlofk-p_wpTA27dfct/s1600/Screen%20Shot%202013-03-22%20at%2010.58.23%20PM.png" width="115" /></a></i></div><i><br />It's Poetry Friday! <a href="https://www.teacherdance.org/2023/05/poetry-friday-is-here-welcome.html">Today's roundup</a> is hosted by Linda Baie at Teacher Dance. Stop by for a breath of fresh of poetry air. </i><p></p><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbEEKh-hdIIhmuX5f7Em4vXh5tCy2LOD8EeXiYKl7qQPEooZ0c9hOYogxfJMqxmyA1uTD6Kr1iZcXneTjRCK6aNeb-N_h1VTfWmGrQEGk28P0jjOl8w4H0zE_aRkFN898sSekKI0_E922ht4g47sAm4yd4pdGZLVt3OA017hx5PdviUs77zsafkZDC/s4032/IMG_8759.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbEEKh-hdIIhmuX5f7Em4vXh5tCy2LOD8EeXiYKl7qQPEooZ0c9hOYogxfJMqxmyA1uTD6Kr1iZcXneTjRCK6aNeb-N_h1VTfWmGrQEGk28P0jjOl8w4H0zE_aRkFN898sSekKI0_E922ht4g47sAm4yd4pdGZLVt3OA017hx5PdviUs77zsafkZDC/s320/IMG_8759.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br />Whew! Last month was busy as I wrote and posted a poem each day. I'm sure you all get it! When publishing a poem, each day is an act of vulnerability because you know you will have to post poems before they feel ready for the world. That being said, I needed the push to get a poem on paper every day and, it worked. (Though I use the word "poem" loosely. Ha!) </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Here's a quick list of April's National Poetry Month celebration highlights:</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><h3 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Three Things I Did</span></h3><div style="text-align: left;"><i><u>Collected Links on <a href="https://padlet.com/catmere/national-poetry-month-icsn42rg0c3bkh7b">a Padlet</a></u></i>: During National Poetry Month, I wanted to be able to collect the crumbs of discovery throughout the month so I decided to keep a Padlet of links. I wasn't quite as diligent as I had hoped, but I have a reasonable collection of nuggets. <br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><u>Supported Poetry Spaces</u></i>: This year, I made sure to make contributions to the poetry spaces that I return to repeatedly. <a href="https://support.americanpublicmedia.org/slowdown_web">The Slowdown</a>, <a href="https://poets.org/donate">Poets.org</a> (Academy of American Poets), <a href="https://www.ohiopoetryassn.org/donations">Ohio Poetry Association</a> are among the spaces that not only inspire me daily, but also provide my daily dose of JOY.<br /><br /></div><div><i><u>Audio Poetry</u></i>: Honestly, poets reading their poetry in audiobooks may be one of the most under appreciated gifts. At the beginning of every April, I find my way to the digital library to checkout audiobooks of poets reading their poetry books. Many of these books I own in print and love to follow along as they read. Here are a few of my favorites from this year: <i>Billy Collins Live: A Performance at the Peter Norton Symphony Space,</i> an all-time favorite), <i>How to Love a Country </i>(Richard Blanco), <i>Dog Bones </i>(Mary Oliver), <i>An American Sunrise </i>(Joy Harjo), <i>We Inherit What the Fires Left </i>(William Evans), <i>and The Carrying </i>(Ada Limón). I have to also mention here the daily poetry from <i><a href="https://www.slowdownshow.org">The Slowdown Show</a>, </i>currently hosted by <a href="https://www.instagram.com/poetmajorjackson/">Major Jackson</a>, and <i>Poem-a-Day,</i> April poems were selected by Poet Laureate <a href="https://www.instagram.com/adalimonwriter/">Ada Limón</a><i>. </i></div><div><br /></div><h3 style="text-align: left;">Three Things I Discovered</h3><div><i><u>Maggie Smith</u></i>: Seriously, Maggie is a gift that keeps on giving. I went with friends to see her speak as her new book, <i><a href="https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/You-Could-Make-This-Place-Beautiful/Maggie-Smith/9781982185855">You Could Make This Place Beautiful</a>,</i> was released into the world and enjoyed hearing her talk about writing. After the event, I started to <a href="https://www.instagram.com/maggiesmithpoet/">follow her on Instagram</a>, which led me to podcasts where she was a guest, which led me to her Substack, <i><a href="https://maggiesmith.substack.com/?utm_source=substack&utm_medium=web&utm_campaign=profile_page">For Dear Life</a>,</i> which I quickly decided to join. </div><div><br /></div><div><i><u>New Forms</u></i>: Thanks to Margaret Simon and Molly for the <a href="https://reflectionsontheteche.files.wordpress.com/2023/03/2023-.-npm.jpg">calendar they created for National Poetry Month</a>. It actually unexpectedly ended up shaping my poetry in April. I made blocks in my Passion Planner using some of their suggested forms and when I was stuck I would select a form to try for a poem. I left a few open blocks to add new forms I discovered along the way. This is a tool I will return to again and again. (I'm actually trying a similar format for techniques to help improve my revision process in May.) </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim22HNHaWlbC0l7nZqd_TCiFEYxBRi64gt2xodnC1mKBkLvLVcct22EKearP3guwOuijEbkvr8DyI042mWHMqu3Yd4UUYnvyS9eqYrUOgplcClI8fDtQ_j_qyIuVt_HjbxElg5nJq3g5eOTPxpN_DIeokUGJ7A3uHZmyHOMNCBuWgGlAH4wmsDWJeY/s4030/IMG_8760.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2620" data-original-width="4030" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim22HNHaWlbC0l7nZqd_TCiFEYxBRi64gt2xodnC1mKBkLvLVcct22EKearP3guwOuijEbkvr8DyI042mWHMqu3Yd4UUYnvyS9eqYrUOgplcClI8fDtQ_j_qyIuVt_HjbxElg5nJq3g5eOTPxpN_DIeokUGJ7A3uHZmyHOMNCBuWgGlAH4wmsDWJeY/s320/IMG_8760.heic" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><i><u>New Poets</u></i>: Well, new to me. Seriously, if you attended <a href="https://poets.org/gala/2023/program">Poetry and the Creative Mind</a>, a gala sponsored by the American Academy of Poets you know what I mean when I say, "Wow!" Listening to guests read poetry was an absolute delight - and it really has raised the bar for how I even read poetry to myself. I discovered a few new-to-me poets here, as well as across the month of April. Here are a few that stand out: Maggie Smith (obviously), Saeed Jones (discovered him alongside Maggie at the Drexel), Beau Sia, and Rudy Francisco, to name a few. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><h3 style="text-align: left;">What's Next </h3><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><u>Poetry Friday</u></i>: I plan to get back to posting with the Poetry Friday Community. Hopefully the poems you find in this space on Friday will have had some revision and feel a little more polished for the world. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><u>More Revision</u></i>: Yep, this one! I know I really need to spend some time in the space of revision. Here are some of the techniques I plan to use in this process. Since the box collection of possibility worked so well with form, I thought I might give this a try to push me to diversify my revision decisions, hopefully thinking more about what a poem might need. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhknEUi-wrSgxgFtFORx1JdEPw0c8UqC6LWQr46Q4yF97qjVMkTS76ja409kuW-cpukfAmkgIwCRWCVqEHxNOA-YorT1TXalSjWbRqburTfE0xFvFzxs-sED3LtMqhHkddJABIo3o6SMmoyAUSCzAF1FihkOfpglt20_vKEVSx0anh_XSW6rdv2sBP5/s4024/IMG_8761.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2379" data-original-width="4024" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhknEUi-wrSgxgFtFORx1JdEPw0c8UqC6LWQr46Q4yF97qjVMkTS76ja409kuW-cpukfAmkgIwCRWCVqEHxNOA-YorT1TXalSjWbRqburTfE0xFvFzxs-sED3LtMqhHkddJABIo3o6SMmoyAUSCzAF1FihkOfpglt20_vKEVSx0anh_XSW6rdv2sBP5/s320/IMG_8761.heic" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><u>Word Play</u></i>: As I traveled around Poetry Friday posts I realized how impressive you all are with your words!!! I need a little word play in my life to improve word selection. I'm sure there will be more to come on this, but most of the ideas I have currently are from visiting the Poetry Friday roundups. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">That's all for now. Here's this week's poem: </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXyQhsmUVbMyk_uVRDkVEp-GBtsTMSKszO18t0HuQc0BpjHLwgiT6tF35OOvK4XXEyZyRgFp6LVrKmYhQZX6jWEa5AvvaT5NStG-ZKX6U3rThQbRvaM7pGLwPPSPXCFpfv8ifIsY7ekUNBJhnS5lFLHRgu2gPXjVo_wV8jKjkYpstNGS4_x8rac9Hs/s1080/Minimal%20Father's%20Day%20Poem%20Instagram%20Post.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXyQhsmUVbMyk_uVRDkVEp-GBtsTMSKszO18t0HuQc0BpjHLwgiT6tF35OOvK4XXEyZyRgFp6LVrKmYhQZX6jWEa5AvvaT5NStG-ZKX6U3rThQbRvaM7pGLwPPSPXCFpfv8ifIsY7ekUNBJhnS5lFLHRgu2gPXjVo_wV8jKjkYpstNGS4_x8rac9Hs/w640-h640/Minimal%20Father's%20Day%20Poem%20Instagram%20Post.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-57516001368746920912023-04-30T19:53:00.000-04:002023-04-30T19:53:29.313-04:00National Poetry Month: Woohoo! 30 Days of Poems (30 of 30) <p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">It's National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHNLfxlsi_B2BGTx0iYJRF_LSK0tJsGFJOLQVsR0FQjsAVG3DTWAA3vJcdKnYEOwkNf0UB8_AvTjFIvoBuvFE6B8jH_6TNZk3EPaMm-Wdl8KJ-DiB132dyZ1QQBx6eXfko7EKiJwO0KalnaHkjVhie4XcYOmIHZDvpTrHYXv-0ribFwb_sN-VySDPi/s2000/blue%20pink%20purple%20green%20minimal%20watercolor%20flower%20Canvas%20Print.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHNLfxlsi_B2BGTx0iYJRF_LSK0tJsGFJOLQVsR0FQjsAVG3DTWAA3vJcdKnYEOwkNf0UB8_AvTjFIvoBuvFE6B8jH_6TNZk3EPaMm-Wdl8KJ-DiB132dyZ1QQBx6eXfko7EKiJwO0KalnaHkjVhie4XcYOmIHZDvpTrHYXv-0ribFwb_sN-VySDPi/s320/blue%20pink%20purple%20green%20minimal%20watercolor%20flower%20Canvas%20Print.png" width="256" /></a></div><br />Endings are really just beginnings.<p></p><div style="text-align: left;">Let all the words collected,</div><div style="text-align: left;">settle deep inside you.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Take all that you have learned,</div><div style="text-align: left;">tuck it in your notebook,</div><div style="text-align: left;">and begin again.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">© Cathy L. Mere, 2023 </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-10458324146935105882023-04-29T10:19:00.002-04:002023-04-29T10:19:37.960-04:00National Poetry Month: Words to Save Us (29 of 30) <p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">It's National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span>Today's Golden Shovel is inspired by a line from Naomi Shihab Nye's poem: <i>You Know Who You Are </i>(Words Under Words, p. 22).</span></div><p><i></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsO6GsWYPBzmMNQEbgBW6a0w83fNQcnSzHTriJKu1t0fEaduBixmg4kx1EKdcv0PxjYURauKQ9ApGI1wYQHN_MbChEogcdGrN1F7SxiVOd7QSayFz0Vq1mRjZYG7SZmt8srRjaxSyiV7b_IR0dfjbouNDzu9xqa6xyA3JkNj4RV12z_JVDOxjlNIPN/s1080/Minimal%20Neutral%20Light%20Brown%20Social%20Media%20Post.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsO6GsWYPBzmMNQEbgBW6a0w83fNQcnSzHTriJKu1t0fEaduBixmg4kx1EKdcv0PxjYURauKQ9ApGI1wYQHN_MbChEogcdGrN1F7SxiVOd7QSayFz0Vq1mRjZYG7SZmt8srRjaxSyiV7b_IR0dfjbouNDzu9xqa6xyA3JkNj4RV12z_JVDOxjlNIPN/w640-h640/Minimal%20Neutral%20Light%20Brown%20Social%20Media%20Post.png" width="640" /></a></i></div><i><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-82187875225536264912023-04-28T23:30:00.001-04:002023-04-29T09:14:20.314-04:00National Poetry Month: Again (28 of 30) <p> <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">It's National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: small; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi04pLqb2iCste4U4hr0f23K452jvxvHpVKlhSOwGVcydZJ2qHaz-C-zpHAiKiLQYXv16U2b_Gf82RZPbt0ndYatYi8Yr2mFJI9YKf2c4mwXGwrCnRP5QxytKHyqu_Y9U7Zu_KLm3E25m0wSyW7jbyIcfBrNPw4zlY-JsTUKLGR6HBIHaMHxTwqRJYN/s115/Screen%20Shot%202013-03-22%20at%2010.58.23%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="75" data-original-width="115" height="75" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi04pLqb2iCste4U4hr0f23K452jvxvHpVKlhSOwGVcydZJ2qHaz-C-zpHAiKiLQYXv16U2b_Gf82RZPbt0ndYatYi8Yr2mFJI9YKf2c4mwXGwrCnRP5QxytKHyqu_Y9U7Zu_KLm3E25m0wSyW7jbyIcfBrNPw4zlY-JsTUKLGR6HBIHaMHxTwqRJYN/s1600/Screen%20Shot%202013-03-22%20at%2010.58.23%20PM.png" width="115" /></a></div>It's Poetry Friday! It is also the last Friday of National Poetry Month. Today's roundup is hosted by Ruth at "<a href="http://thereisnosuchthingasagodforsakentown.blogspot.com/2023/04/poetry-friday-pull-up-chair-roundup-is.html">There is No Such Thing as a God-forsaken Town</a>." <i>(True confessions: I didn't quite make the Friday night deadline so I'm posting this on Saturday morning. Since I'm late, I did not link to the roundup, but I'd suggest you stop by to see all this community has been accomplishing this month.) </i></div><div><br /></div><div>Here's "today's" poem:</div><div><br /></div><h3 style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbt5-BfLj3Xvmc56PeWSMLlRjQiNGpGU238QRisIhTrd0N9usXHDAI9RXDmwfPoQLwq3WglIcf9gDkIaH1r0PjeAvo6YKrG96f8wc1MV8udBF1wSVWt2bk-rTfLZyuEyxGZPe4ifBiJ5kOCWJHRKrd1qNZj9zDfhIy3elgyyCkngjmUSCJPGiYygLl/s4032/IMG_8646.heic" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbt5-BfLj3Xvmc56PeWSMLlRjQiNGpGU238QRisIhTrd0N9usXHDAI9RXDmwfPoQLwq3WglIcf9gDkIaH1r0PjeAvo6YKrG96f8wc1MV8udBF1wSVWt2bk-rTfLZyuEyxGZPe4ifBiJ5kOCWJHRKrd1qNZj9zDfhIy3elgyyCkngjmUSCJPGiYygLl/s320/IMG_8646.heic" width="240" /></a></div><br />When You're Two </h3><div>Life when you're two</div><div>is full of joy. </div><div><br /></div><div>We hop around the living room,</div><div>you giggle as we move in circles,</div><div>hop, hop, hop.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Again</i>, you say.</div><div><br /></div><div>We sing songs in the kitchen,</div><div>dancing and acting out the words,</div><div>do, da, do.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Again</i>, you shout.</div><div><br /></div><div>We twirl endlessly in circles,</div><div>falling down on queue,</div><div>boom, boom, boom.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Again</i>, you declare.</div><div><br /></div><div>We go outside into the sun,</div><div>to run in the tall grass,</div><div>vroom, vroom, vroom.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Again</i>, you proclaim.</div><div><br /></div><div>Your smile lights the day,</div><div>your happiness fills the room,</div><div>pop, pop, pop.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Again</i>, I agree.</div><div><br /></div><div>When you're two,</div><div>you fill hearts with joy. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;">© Cathy L. Mere, 2023 </span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-41877766641627030542023-04-27T23:30:00.001-04:002023-04-28T06:23:07.551-04:00National Poetry Month: Wishes in Waiting (27 of 30) <p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">It's National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4RVyV4o7BALB29Np8Z2kgl9Zd_Xbfbts6hWk5c7Sbo3oHrn5xgSNIS-1zilF1V3dtbpaQ9_76tCMXS8o8Der4v8efY-QkTq9rl_R5vsxd0P48siYjLbFITvv6X7F7KhhbhtPqelIEpEFCFMpO5u0OhU_jRff8fealMPqPFd38ZSJaL0jDU-fuFAMM/s4032/phonto%204.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4RVyV4o7BALB29Np8Z2kgl9Zd_Xbfbts6hWk5c7Sbo3oHrn5xgSNIS-1zilF1V3dtbpaQ9_76tCMXS8o8Der4v8efY-QkTq9rl_R5vsxd0P48siYjLbFITvv6X7F7KhhbhtPqelIEpEFCFMpO5u0OhU_jRff8fealMPqPFd38ZSJaL0jDU-fuFAMM/w300-h400/phonto%204.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-64006786119989441522023-04-25T21:49:00.002-04:002023-04-26T09:08:53.003-04:00National Poetry Month: Unexpected Surprise (25 of 30)<p> <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">It's National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i></p><p><br /></p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvSCiEr5HeRuB0aVFqm-zG77qIOfQXmNlUtIveJtQPTb-SgVAe0cCuK9WB7t_Rf8DEWNtndGa5Q9dZw1qFuM4GXxJ6rj7JbZ-FflioLlg9J15hPkPFDCpEgs9WAL_DH7sJRi8KNmvyrDEMv-LdxSG3N1Jf1MGv1fSlvBEmUyA0kZTufmrsDS_LfLGx/s4032/IMG_8712.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvSCiEr5HeRuB0aVFqm-zG77qIOfQXmNlUtIveJtQPTb-SgVAe0cCuK9WB7t_Rf8DEWNtndGa5Q9dZw1qFuM4GXxJ6rj7JbZ-FflioLlg9J15hPkPFDCpEgs9WAL_DH7sJRi8KNmvyrDEMv-LdxSG3N1Jf1MGv1fSlvBEmUyA0kZTufmrsDS_LfLGx/s320/IMG_8712.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: large;">secret gardener</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: large;">sows small seeds: clouds of perfume.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: large;">today's sweet surprise.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">© Cathy L. Mere, 2023</span></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-16751637079014938332023-04-24T17:19:00.000-04:002023-04-24T17:19:10.417-04:00National Poetry Month: Spring Waltz (24 of 30) <p> <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">It's National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVXlYThbL5ERD771QtDdTSbArYW8uv4OxRrwJ4qr6tTdKxajt06xdmxTq5s2czng3br6ytFLKsUo5weP5ZcJbUmBFCBrcpWQI4rC_I3q2i9dPz0mb0N4yL4MfqR3uXHUqzL_dTBnhcLy17mF_7XZYX9AKn6mUQHqXZS5k-8xzI8gbfPOn2a-nQS2pm/s4032/phonto%203.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVXlYThbL5ERD771QtDdTSbArYW8uv4OxRrwJ4qr6tTdKxajt06xdmxTq5s2czng3br6ytFLKsUo5weP5ZcJbUmBFCBrcpWQI4rC_I3q2i9dPz0mb0N4yL4MfqR3uXHUqzL_dTBnhcLy17mF_7XZYX9AKn6mUQHqXZS5k-8xzI8gbfPOn2a-nQS2pm/w300-h400/phonto%203.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-976735125725235902023-04-23T19:03:00.000-04:002023-04-23T19:03:14.790-04:00National Poetry Month: Just Tomorrow (23 of 30)<p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">It's National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></p><p>Today seemed a good day to try a <a href="https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/golden-shovel-poetic-form">Golden Shovel</a> poem. </p><div style="text-align: left;"><i>"the past is the past,</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>and the present is what your life is,</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>and you are capable"</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><span> - Mary Oliver, from Mornings at Blackwater (Devotions, p. 102)</span><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><span><br /></span></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><span><br /></span></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><span><br /></span></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi72fdVdtCI-yRvm_c467hzZdQaO4hUJUXDQMP8-JI9bd28fq4bPWWH5CF6zGv6Pg-h9VYAlvOg0tmT5NgDE7q4mSHIFuv0ufC8d_jPytphNSv5ZTkfWngWuKGBH92bigEuI7QNQ33Jq2JrnvT2XT-XI_IWXf5xCHyN3WpssRnhxBjJwwjibgEAWVQO/s2000/blue%20pink%20purple%20green%20minimal%20watercolor%20flower%20Canvas%20Print.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi72fdVdtCI-yRvm_c467hzZdQaO4hUJUXDQMP8-JI9bd28fq4bPWWH5CF6zGv6Pg-h9VYAlvOg0tmT5NgDE7q4mSHIFuv0ufC8d_jPytphNSv5ZTkfWngWuKGBH92bigEuI7QNQ33Jq2JrnvT2XT-XI_IWXf5xCHyN3WpssRnhxBjJwwjibgEAWVQO/s320/blue%20pink%20purple%20green%20minimal%20watercolor%20flower%20Canvas%20Print.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><br />I'm still learning <b><i>the</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">lessons taught by the <b><i>past.</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">The noise <b><i>is</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">deafening, <b><i>the</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">missteps of <b><i>past</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">days replaying over <b><i>and</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">over until <b><i>the</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">day we step fully into the <b><i>present,</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">both feet planted firmly. This <b><i>is</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">the day we decide <b><i>what</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">matters, when the noise in our <b><i>head</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">turns to song. <b><i>Life</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">begins in this moment. It <b><i>is</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">here we fly <b><i>and</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">trust our steps moving steadily forward. <b><i>You</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">have been ready all your life. You <b><i>are</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i>capable.</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">© Cathy L. Mere, 2023 </div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><span><br /></span></i></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-39498220608447146212023-04-22T20:57:00.001-04:002023-04-22T20:57:51.757-04:00National Poetry Month: Nothing Stands (22 of 30)<p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">It's National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i></p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-QHafEc-xgMALziGpM_F5oocFny7oMaRbZis5Tbz5PG52YRxnsxEdinYO9Z8gLR8JJxKKs9I3OJipI2EympxhDJXjUT6ZbSSxC1-fFl1OxzUavsIseGswmYVSKm84BalbReHMsenGmtYHe71RWbxZJPCm9kSMFbKA9n5k5Lta-myibCpzFgyVlwdw/s4032/IMG_8694.heic" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-QHafEc-xgMALziGpM_F5oocFny7oMaRbZis5Tbz5PG52YRxnsxEdinYO9Z8gLR8JJxKKs9I3OJipI2EympxhDJXjUT6ZbSSxC1-fFl1OxzUavsIseGswmYVSKm84BalbReHMsenGmtYHe71RWbxZJPCm9kSMFbKA9n5k5Lta-myibCpzFgyVlwdw/s320/IMG_8694.heic" width="240" /></a></div><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;">Nothing Stands</h3></div><div style="text-align: left;">nothing stands. </div><div style="text-align: left;">no black top to burn our feet,</div><div style="text-align: left;">no window to place an order,</div><div style="text-align: left;">no sidewalk to wait in line.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">nothing but emptiness</div><div style="text-align: left;">and memories</div><div style="text-align: left;">of long summer days, </div><div style="text-align: left;">from a life so long ago.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">another life;</div><div style="text-align: left;">where our biggest decision</div><div style="text-align: left;">was which kind of ice cream to get</div><div style="text-align: left;">or if we should save our change for another day.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">where we only worried</div><div style="text-align: left;">about returning to the pool,</div><div style="text-align: left;">before the whistle blew,</div><div style="text-align: left;">before the next swim period began.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">there once was a place </div><div style="text-align: left;">where laughter lingered in the lazy sun,</div><div style="text-align: left;">now in this place</div><div style="text-align: left;">nothing stands. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">© Cathy L. Mere, 2023</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-36375670687635537072023-04-21T18:03:00.000-04:002023-04-21T18:03:46.922-04:00National Poetry Month: Mourning Song (21 of 30) <p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Today is Poetry Friday!!! I'm joining the Poetry Friday Community to spread a little poetry love. <a href="http://karenedmisten.blogspot.com/2023/04/poetry-friday-national-poetry-month.html">Karen Edmiston*</a> is hosting this week's celebration. (Thanks, Karen.) Stop by for your daily dose of poetry. </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">It's National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/b3/Mourning_Dove.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9w337UeH_JMYlxMGDoY7pol6PIldFfyvMQ0k9Qdly93XYRBPDHMrgthgnu4jXbDun2v5nHpYIRW325dAqxeo-Y-XwS8PuG0qy4vhqKoLx158QT7cjZRTQ8dNN4aRe9YtwzHscAGKbjyP0R8hk-Mzu_GKEuX7WzyFnQHmm4vrjvKL9eL5isIR2O9_E/w400-h225/Mourning_Dove.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ken Thomas, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: large;">morning.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: large;">dove wakes the earth,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: large;">a melancholy song,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: large;">serene lament of seasons past;</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: large;">mourning.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">© Cathy L. Mere, 2023</span></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-54534275564121479892023-04-20T07:52:00.001-04:002023-04-20T07:52:26.599-04:00National Poetry Month: A Meditation (20 of 30) <p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I</span></i><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">t's National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">...nonets are hard. </span></i></p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9CtCUTFC1DFXb100tWHSEBfjAk4Ks5ZQXpNvi0rWbfJTQ1rB_LVzwAXfTvGyhMmNfXpS7H805PySjKLs1huDfL58_YD3MdnTvfVxR2TjUjRvRKTp9n7jnOuS6NxTwlbt09S35KYfk2-tZePCmO5dvXGjphXF1a_3Ro3E3Uc01ngqPdvV31tD2JJsb/s4032/IMG_0602%203.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9CtCUTFC1DFXb100tWHSEBfjAk4Ks5ZQXpNvi0rWbfJTQ1rB_LVzwAXfTvGyhMmNfXpS7H805PySjKLs1huDfL58_YD3MdnTvfVxR2TjUjRvRKTp9n7jnOuS6NxTwlbt09S35KYfk2-tZePCmO5dvXGjphXF1a_3Ro3E3Uc01ngqPdvV31tD2JJsb/w300-h400/IMG_0602%203.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div><br />if you aren't careful you'll lose yourself,</div><div style="text-align: left;">in a world that drowns out reason,</div><div style="text-align: left;">in shouting that hides wisdom,</div><div style="text-align: left;">in moments that distract.</div><div style="text-align: left;">days are fast, yet slow:</div><div style="text-align: left;">draw your own lines,</div><div style="text-align: left;">close your eyes,</div><div style="text-align: left;">center,</div><div style="text-align: left;">breathe.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">© Cathy L. Mere, 2023</div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-70209901007516969162023-04-19T23:00:00.001-04:002023-04-20T07:19:51.133-04:00National Poetry Month: A Peep's Plead (19 of 30)<p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I</span></i><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">t's National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i></p><h3 style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-HYtuPjv8938Qammyo2Lxxcq3NjlO93H0BZ8cIBf_PAh1jmMA-jY95GgBCWKKZe8BGjsyZuCrs7ITRH8hcHdn9q8qA0xfE7EvvVX9tOoTmIOurB_QaYEVHFRMO7IPGIpvUxuqtjSPAllp_uAKeVW913822A1XfehfKSFK3ja5gB7yD5ME0z3d7ZjX/s3056/IMG_8640.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3056" data-original-width="2938" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-HYtuPjv8938Qammyo2Lxxcq3NjlO93H0BZ8cIBf_PAh1jmMA-jY95GgBCWKKZe8BGjsyZuCrs7ITRH8hcHdn9q8qA0xfE7EvvVX9tOoTmIOurB_QaYEVHFRMO7IPGIpvUxuqtjSPAllp_uAKeVW913822A1XfehfKSFK3ja5gB7yD5ME0z3d7ZjX/s320/IMG_8640.HEIC" width="308" /></a></div><br /><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;">A Peep's Plead</h3><div style="text-align: left;">They've placed the peeps</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span> near the front of the store.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span>They're staring at you </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span> as you walk in the door.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span>Their eyes look so sad</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span> as they beg and they plead,</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span>"You came for some milk,</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span> but we're what you need."</span><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span>"Look at us waiting here</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span> blue, yellow and pink,</span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span>we could be of good use</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span> if you just stop and think."</span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">Poor peeps, I did think</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span> to myself walking by,</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span>no new home for Easter,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span> I let out a sigh.</span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span>The poor little chicks</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span> no basket that day,</span><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span>no children to watch,</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span> no moments of play.</span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span>Instead here they sit</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span> hoping today it will be, </span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span>the day they are chosen</span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span> to come home with me. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">© Cathy L. Mere, 2023</div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-26215231854546349772023-04-18T21:26:00.001-04:002023-04-18T21:36:43.575-04:00National Poetry Month: Friendship (18 of 30) <p><i style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I</span></i><i style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">t's National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><a href="https://emilypfreeman.com/podcast/">Emily P. Freeman</a>'s podcast, <a href="https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-next-right-thing/id1268826768">The Next Right Thing</a>, has become one of my favorites. This week she shared a blessing about friendship. I hope you'll stop over and listen to it. It had such beautiful words that I thought it might make a good found poem. </span></span></p><p><i style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></p><p><i style="font-family: inherit;"></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqLS2oX25Qn1PpG8vIlV-gWdRWh0PhgZkN0vtwN3StEmXchTDKddhTNoWDhKed6KYIph6i4LqCSldo11yPGnfAPimbfLYuPaoUHnpVXh_hln6svadByUdKstobnjMgmGt1dh8g7HYvZ406LR4oQAbVhlJCqKf0MU1ExD4yB-UCHjsurGitbX1nHRBh/s2007/IMG_0347.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2007" data-original-width="1578" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqLS2oX25Qn1PpG8vIlV-gWdRWh0PhgZkN0vtwN3StEmXchTDKddhTNoWDhKed6KYIph6i4LqCSldo11yPGnfAPimbfLYuPaoUHnpVXh_hln6svadByUdKstobnjMgmGt1dh8g7HYvZ406LR4oQAbVhlJCqKf0MU1ExD4yB-UCHjsurGitbX1nHRBh/w315-h400/IMG_0347.jpg" width="315" /></a></i></div><i style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i><p></p><p><br /></p><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;">Friendship</h3><div>Friendship:</div><div><span> abundance,</span><br /></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><span> </span><span> gift.</span><br /></span></div><div><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span>ebbs and flows,</span></span></div><div><span><span><span> breathes,</span><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span><span>like water falling</span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span> from the sky.</span><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span>JOY.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span>respite.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span>steady.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span>strong.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span>connection.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span>comfort.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span>presence.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span>the generosity of water,</span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span> the steadiness of trees,</span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span> </span><span> the harmony of starlings.</span><br /></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Friendship. </span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><i>A found poem from <a href="https://emilypfreeman.com/podcast/271/">A Blessing for Friendship</a>, written by Emily P. Freeman at the Next Right Thing. </i></span></div><div><span><i><br /></i></span></div><div>Freeman, Emily P. (Host). (2023, April 18.) A Blessing For Friendship (No. 271). [Audio podcast</div><div><span> episode]. In The Next Right Thing. </span>https://emilypfreeman.com/podcast/271/</div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-28785233395212176032023-04-17T22:16:00.001-04:002023-04-17T22:16:53.383-04:00National Poetry Month: Mystery (17 of 30) <p> <i style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I</span></i><i style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">t's National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i></p><p><br /></p><p>It's <a href="https://thehaikufoundation.org/events/international-haiku-poetry-day/">International Poetry Day</a>. What should I post? A haiku, of course. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIoarpyDOMlq6SIu1eqI1tg7o6gbgu8gR6dv1scg2XquIwRaJh3gl5xsvJjbxqm3K_PWIDtr66ZgDJdzjkIbGs0SpurVFH5OsHoMtInMXRzzREajt7d8g4laYulMjDQGCqlBhuTb-zx0VCb3Ff13xMWt1JiAU2WJJAegFPyT3QBTPdzJs2G56usf26/s4032/phonto%202.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIoarpyDOMlq6SIu1eqI1tg7o6gbgu8gR6dv1scg2XquIwRaJh3gl5xsvJjbxqm3K_PWIDtr66ZgDJdzjkIbGs0SpurVFH5OsHoMtInMXRzzREajt7d8g4laYulMjDQGCqlBhuTb-zx0VCb3Ff13xMWt1JiAU2WJJAegFPyT3QBTPdzJs2G56usf26/w300-h400/phonto%202.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-24134980122694469392023-04-16T23:30:00.011-04:002023-04-17T12:43:40.393-04:00National Poetry Month: Keep Going (16 of 30)<p> <i style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I</span></i><i style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">t's National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i></p><p><i style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></p><p><i style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Well, we're over the halfway point so it seems a perfect time for a spine poem - and a reminder to "Keep Going." </span></i></p><p><i style="font-family: inherit;"><span><br /></span></i></p><p><span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHmr6KDeiVgFenVMhKCJfGPV7cYBrFCSz8Wx1FWiPbMGxA49JCxvxZVMJPWnwcNdlPFrisWYy-oHqaZm73Vy58MAka2uXRzW811edt1aP7imZEPiZljcEq2FGObUg0dH8Hcj7dt3feIviHKm1NP3SfZIWobNMXSERGVQ-SD7KsFKrxOVrcLt6Avqh3/s4032/IMG_8662.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHmr6KDeiVgFenVMhKCJfGPV7cYBrFCSz8Wx1FWiPbMGxA49JCxvxZVMJPWnwcNdlPFrisWYy-oHqaZm73Vy58MAka2uXRzW811edt1aP7imZEPiZljcEq2FGObUg0dH8Hcj7dt3feIviHKm1NP3SfZIWobNMXSERGVQ-SD7KsFKrxOVrcLt6Avqh3/w400-h300/IMG_8662.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script;">Your idea starts here,</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script;">Hungry Hearts.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script;">Keep Going!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script;">[Remember]</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script;">The power of moments:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script;">wade in the water,</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script;">light the dark.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script;">[Recall]</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script;">What you know by heart...</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script;">sailing alone around the room.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script;">A velocity of being. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script;"><br /></span></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit; font-style: italic;"><br /></span><p></p>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-70562029494071565102023-04-15T17:15:00.002-04:002023-04-15T17:15:51.539-04:00National Poetry Month: Tomorrow's Wish (15 of 30) <p> <i style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I</span></i><i style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">t's National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbaRRfsXoeoEBWRcJc80ZmpJbG8TwP-2IfUoEiWzd3OXzO8oz-UVU8fMSBizFrrxf6zwc_qNe6x0Eq21ciwWxDIzULcph_1Uw6pATa3Tu3AivDyiwZZ3Q2tx7In0z3ghBH0TZuy-26XHFkgYBwim17mVlbgoqmCO8RC6sZZc0W8F4MFsWfP_5-dbZN/s4032/IMG_8542.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbaRRfsXoeoEBWRcJc80ZmpJbG8TwP-2IfUoEiWzd3OXzO8oz-UVU8fMSBizFrrxf6zwc_qNe6x0Eq21ciwWxDIzULcph_1Uw6pATa3Tu3AivDyiwZZ3Q2tx7In0z3ghBH0TZuy-26XHFkgYBwim17mVlbgoqmCO8RC6sZZc0W8F4MFsWfP_5-dbZN/s320/IMG_8542.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">dandelions pop,</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">today's sunshine on the ground,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">tomorrow's wish.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">© Cathy L. Mere, 2023</span></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-49878264084594994652023-04-14T23:30:00.002-04:002023-04-15T07:51:48.370-04:00National Poetry Month & Poetry Friday: Unruly (14 of 30) <p> <i style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I</span></i><i style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">t's National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i></p><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhqjOidvWMoSLGAgZzSqB1XHLmltlMtDm9wzQPHViKSjWAH1H_A210DNH2tZZvQgCNsK9ORenuSyMtObiSFVS_Va7N-Go5CbpctuhIWp5po1ftzIATyZQegWAFgS7-bLeV7g6_EtygP3yrTWJyFFqDOuKJfaLlQaex0Abl3MP0jdXy_Db54CSsA7zj/s115/Screen%20Shot%202013-03-22%20at%2010.58.23%20PM.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="75" data-original-width="115" height="75" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhqjOidvWMoSLGAgZzSqB1XHLmltlMtDm9wzQPHViKSjWAH1H_A210DNH2tZZvQgCNsK9ORenuSyMtObiSFVS_Va7N-Go5CbpctuhIWp5po1ftzIATyZQegWAFgS7-bLeV7g6_EtygP3yrTWJyFFqDOuKJfaLlQaex0Abl3MP0jdXy_Db54CSsA7zj/s1600/Screen%20Shot%202013-03-22%20at%2010.58.23%20PM.png" width="115" /></a></div>It's also Poetry Friday. Today's Poetry Friday roundup is hosted by <a href="https://www.jonerushmacculloch.com/blog/poetry-friday-week-15-classic-found-poetry-palooza">Jone Rush MacCulloch</a>. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">...a tricube attempt.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><h3 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Unruly</span></h3><div>please forgive</div><div>my lateness,</div><div>poet friends.</div><div><br /></div><div>words refused</div><div>to be caged</div><div>on paper.</div><div><br /></div><div>resisting,</div><div>lines, order -</div><div>to be tamed.</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;">© Cathy L. Mere</span></div><div><br /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-53226947201370152482023-04-13T14:54:00.000-04:002023-04-13T14:54:07.682-04:00National Poetry Month: Self-Employed (13 of 30) <p> <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">It's </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i></p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">For National Poetry Month, Mary Lee Hahn has been writing a cherita poem each day on her blog: <a href="http://www.maryleehahn.com/2023/04/that-light.html?lr=1">Poetrepository</a>. I've been intrigued and decided it was time to give one a try. It seems to me, Mary Lee most often begins with her "pop" right at the beginning of her poem. I love the way the truth is right there from the start. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">My "pop" seems to come a bit more at the end of my poem. I'm still playing, but this was a fun form to try. Thanks, Mary Lee. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p><h3 style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhNLKBPkCjNBxLPtxvDrOflCXt9y1ruYI3Qkk0f4K8-mhv5Fg0y-ZCxNgJQIiVVxZv_Hr-PF29INBinhiuctGXkDmAuchPPp-GLXElvd_dc6IikTleW2jgXpmOWEb7P-bUdPo_qUL3EFuH6CN8bD-VEnAFRiI_zG-AYfEB3qpQjTrP_1WvpVZG04IJ/s2000/blue%20pink%20purple%20green%20minimal%20watercolor%20flower%20Canvas%20Print.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhNLKBPkCjNBxLPtxvDrOflCXt9y1ruYI3Qkk0f4K8-mhv5Fg0y-ZCxNgJQIiVVxZv_Hr-PF29INBinhiuctGXkDmAuchPPp-GLXElvd_dc6IikTleW2jgXpmOWEb7P-bUdPo_qUL3EFuH6CN8bD-VEnAFRiI_zG-AYfEB3qpQjTrP_1WvpVZG04IJ/s320/blue%20pink%20purple%20green%20minimal%20watercolor%20flower%20Canvas%20Print.png" width="256" /></a></div><br />Self-Employed</h3><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Occupation?" the form asked. </span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I began to write self-employed</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">instead of retired. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Retired denotes ceased to work,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">but every day I am here</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">with pen in hand. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">© Cathy L. Mere, 2023</span></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-66670926766511143342023-04-12T22:14:00.003-04:002023-04-12T22:18:16.196-04:00National Poetry Month: Working 9 - 5 (12 of 30) <p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"> It's </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></p><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoMrkPIHSQlR5rE5U9TgfhyFhbcMReo6Tdh_eEnjLglV-cPLjAk0Z_RcgQaOTXI494fqdSA9i0KlauwcNzv41fTMCdeVajkz5eyWnWc3tVGy32qaiO76PpXhO9BOQ_66rqd6RfXP6GmcDg08C-fWkHoMMABK_-AizkCf2tsxWdTStiUggblHJTTSsL/s4032/IMG_8630.heic" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoMrkPIHSQlR5rE5U9TgfhyFhbcMReo6Tdh_eEnjLglV-cPLjAk0Z_RcgQaOTXI494fqdSA9i0KlauwcNzv41fTMCdeVajkz5eyWnWc3tVGy32qaiO76PpXhO9BOQ_66rqd6RfXP6GmcDg08C-fWkHoMMABK_-AizkCf2tsxWdTStiUggblHJTTSsL/w240-h320/IMG_8630.heic" width="240" /></a></div><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;">Working 9-5</h3>Everyday</div><div style="text-align: left;">I work</div><div style="text-align: left;">from 9-5,</div><div style="text-align: left;">chasing mice,</div><div style="text-align: left;">entertaining customers,</div><div style="text-align: left;">purring.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div>I saunter here,</div><div>pitter-patter there,</div><div>rove the aisles </div><div>when I'm bored</div><div>to see if there's </div><div>any mischief.</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It pays the bills.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I have a roof</div><div style="text-align: left;">over my head,</div><div style="text-align: left;">food in my bowl,</div><div style="text-align: left;">the occasional catnip. </div><div style="text-align: left;">It's a living. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It's a sweet gig:</div><div style="text-align: left;">flexible hours,</div><div style="text-align: left;">a safe work environment</div><div style="text-align: left;">that allows me to save my </div><div style="text-align: left;">other eight lives for </div><div style="text-align: left;">retirement. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">© Cathy L. Mere, 2023</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-88588589814527405222023-04-11T22:13:00.002-04:002023-04-11T22:13:21.750-04:00National Poetry Month: The Wisdom of Ages (11 of 30) <p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I</span></i><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">t's National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></p><div style="text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv7Ye7_xsj9R6yBprUxnjmHhBBN-vrQoy5pVWtkP97vnR-faM48N3DlTdEsWA6_PzvEOBnCSVKelw-ykoBcfqWiYrOu8JdzSsWShS1UKUvMNjlrWoDxKXBRETZ-kZuJz1ilaXvg6LUXVf3lajBacDT7r6GU7tbSDNuYvr-btH1Rm4xAS5mznRmmlPk/s1080/Untitled%20design-13.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv7Ye7_xsj9R6yBprUxnjmHhBBN-vrQoy5pVWtkP97vnR-faM48N3DlTdEsWA6_PzvEOBnCSVKelw-ykoBcfqWiYrOu8JdzSsWShS1UKUvMNjlrWoDxKXBRETZ-kZuJz1ilaXvg6LUXVf3lajBacDT7r6GU7tbSDNuYvr-btH1Rm4xAS5mznRmmlPk/w320-h320/Untitled%20design-13.png" title="Canva Image" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Canva Image</td></tr></tbody></table><h3 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script;">The Wisdom of Ages</span></h3></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: medium;">Night -</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: medium;">bright stars</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: medium;">held by trees,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: medium;">branches reaching</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: medium;">toward the dark sky.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: medium;">the stars twinkling brightly</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: medium;">carrying secrets not told,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: medium;">filled with wisdom of the ages.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: medium;">we gaze in wonder at the beauty,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: medium;">searching for answers in the deep dark night. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">© Cathy L. Mere, 2023 </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-73820880841365209052023-04-10T22:37:00.001-04:002023-04-10T22:37:11.408-04:00National Poetry Month: Happy Monday (10 of 30) <p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I</span></i><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">t's National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i> </p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_xVqsgLxm6srgkbV-b33VdWR_NMHV680ziFq_JfMXvie1UYIZSJ8Is9oxw1ld1uyeVGpx5BaLjUSmm-LBe6MoYmsk3U5ccFYBJcPJstrFU8vhzbfSEH8zn5kgssZ79yECJg0f9PCgdQWSjX1aQmWTKqOR-VhtodpHwDBHvMxnvSFZXV1Jr4JUcic9/s1080/Untitled%20design-12.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_xVqsgLxm6srgkbV-b33VdWR_NMHV680ziFq_JfMXvie1UYIZSJ8Is9oxw1ld1uyeVGpx5BaLjUSmm-LBe6MoYmsk3U5ccFYBJcPJstrFU8vhzbfSEH8zn5kgssZ79yECJg0f9PCgdQWSjX1aQmWTKqOR-VhtodpHwDBHvMxnvSFZXV1Jr4JUcic9/s320/Untitled%20design-12.png" width="320" /></a></div><h3 style="text-align: left;">Happy Monday</h3>Mondays felt different </div><div style="text-align: left;">not long ago,</div><div style="text-align: left;">when I set an alarm,</div><div style="text-align: left;">and to work I would go.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The darkness would taunt me,</div><div style="text-align: left;">my eyes still asleep,</div><div style="text-align: left;">as I raced out the door,</div><div style="text-align: left;">a schedule to keep. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Dinner in the crock pot,</div><div style="text-align: left;">coffee in hand,</div><div style="text-align: left;">I'd begin the week </div><div style="text-align: left;">with everything planned.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">By the end of the day,</div><div style="text-align: left;">life would all be off course,</div><div style="text-align: left;">I'd be sure the week,</div><div style="text-align: left;">couldn't get any worse.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Now on Mondays</div><div style="text-align: left;">I rise after the sun;</div><div style="text-align: left;">I still make some coffee,</div><div style="text-align: left;">but I don't have to run.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I just open my book</div><div style="text-align: left;">and watch the sunrise.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Monday is a day</div><div style="text-align: left;">I no longer despise. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">© Cathy L. Mere, 2023</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-20967400561585568962023-04-09T22:09:00.003-04:002023-04-10T22:32:16.414-04:00National Poetry Month: Spring Spell (9 of 30)<p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I</span></i><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">t's National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNPRuhga3UDC7ONWgYQidQX_ekf6i8bRjXh-3MKEy_TxF2MlL3TZiQZL0-aTdkiTWThH9okQktwnReITK9NCvX4_vsn1pgXgGBi-1r8yitcfxSf4ZXOaTaPqL8ypN6diq_gcTyO0-afnIqHkcx_vjQWTrYVDpv3VyPwl_v6pED7H-h468vaknHJ89R/s1080/Untitled%20design-11.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNPRuhga3UDC7ONWgYQidQX_ekf6i8bRjXh-3MKEy_TxF2MlL3TZiQZL0-aTdkiTWThH9okQktwnReITK9NCvX4_vsn1pgXgGBi-1r8yitcfxSf4ZXOaTaPqL8ypN6diq_gcTyO0-afnIqHkcx_vjQWTrYVDpv3VyPwl_v6pED7H-h468vaknHJ89R/w200-h200/Untitled%20design-11.png" title="Image via Canva" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Canva Image</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">As if by magic,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">tiny buds dot leafless branches.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">I watch, enchanted.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">As the earth, caught in Spring's spell,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">captivates its audience.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span>© Cathy L. Mere, 2023</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-4100694764992187272023-04-08T21:37:00.001-04:002023-04-10T22:23:20.434-04:00National Poetry Month: Closing the Door (8 of 30) <p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I</span></i><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">t's National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i></p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">In yesterday's <a href="https://reflectionsontheteche.com/2023/04/06/poetry-friday-and-progressive-poem-are-here/#comment-40586">Poetry Friday roundup</a>, <a href="https://loupiccolo.com/triolet-and-the-science-of-awe/">Lou Piccolo</a> shared a triolet poem. I must admit, I was intrigued. Today, in poetry desperation, I asked Google, "What is an eight-line poem?" (It's the 8th day of the challenge.) When Google said it was a triolet, I felt I had to give one a try. I still have a lot to learn about this form of poetry (and maybe I broke at least one rule when giving it a try today). Thanks, Lou, for the inspiration. </span></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhns4hBmKMsS_AQpcFLRD8J1DYf-24xa4tDd3Q04Maxke81rXUE3083row1BuZIhr-6I3BwjNcgrZc2xxX-I_6V6NQDgVkNNBYVEtQJthc9nmLHrjijRtQ-N8PT6GmJK1wWYZgqHpTGwswaNRmcXHBwl7OaJSKfGwVanDMlJjvWXezMdQa8Dhu7gjPi/s1080/Untitled%20design-10.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhns4hBmKMsS_AQpcFLRD8J1DYf-24xa4tDd3Q04Maxke81rXUE3083row1BuZIhr-6I3BwjNcgrZc2xxX-I_6V6NQDgVkNNBYVEtQJthc9nmLHrjijRtQ-N8PT6GmJK1wWYZgqHpTGwswaNRmcXHBwl7OaJSKfGwVanDMlJjvWXezMdQa8Dhu7gjPi/w200-h200/Untitled%20design-10.png" width="200" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: medium;">Sometimes we must walk away, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: medium;">closing the door behind us.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: medium;">Though next steps are hard to weigh,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: medium;">sometimes we must walk away</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: medium;">so as not unto our heart betray,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: medium;">an act that is quite gracious.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: medium;">Sometimes we must walk away,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: medium;">closing the door behind us.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kaushan Script; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">© Cathy L. Mere, 2023</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-57328090271079306562023-04-07T11:03:00.002-04:002023-04-07T11:04:19.044-04:00National Poetry Month: A Call to Tomorrow (7 of 30) <p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I</span></i><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">t's National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhqjOidvWMoSLGAgZzSqB1XHLmltlMtDm9wzQPHViKSjWAH1H_A210DNH2tZZvQgCNsK9ORenuSyMtObiSFVS_Va7N-Go5CbpctuhIWp5po1ftzIATyZQegWAFgS7-bLeV7g6_EtygP3yrTWJyFFqDOuKJfaLlQaex0Abl3MP0jdXy_Db54CSsA7zj/s115/Screen%20Shot%202013-03-22%20at%2010.58.23%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="75" data-original-width="115" height="75" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhqjOidvWMoSLGAgZzSqB1XHLmltlMtDm9wzQPHViKSjWAH1H_A210DNH2tZZvQgCNsK9ORenuSyMtObiSFVS_Va7N-Go5CbpctuhIWp5po1ftzIATyZQegWAFgS7-bLeV7g6_EtygP3yrTWJyFFqDOuKJfaLlQaex0Abl3MP0jdXy_Db54CSsA7zj/s1600/Screen%20Shot%202013-03-22%20at%2010.58.23%20PM.png" width="115" /></a></div>It's Poetry Friday - and National Poetry Month - so I'm trying to jump back into pressing publish on this blog each day this month. Each Friday, I hope to join the Poetry Friday Community, where I've been lurking quite often as they're always inspiring. Make sure you stop by <a href="https://reflectionsontheteche.com/2023/04/06/poetry-friday-and-progressive-poem-are-here/">Reflections on the Teche</a> where Margaret Simon is kindly hosting today.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Today's poem was inspired by <a href="https://www.majorjackson.com/" target="_blank">Major Jackson</a> from <a href="https://www.slowdownshow.org/" target="_blank">The Slowdown Show</a>. Each day, Jackson shares a poem on the podcast after sharing a short essay. I enjoy listening to the way poetry pushes us to think about life and the complexities of living. In Jackson's essay on the poem <a href="https://www.slowdownshow.org/episode/2023/03/30/845-dear-future-me-12" target="_blank">Future Me</a> by Lena Moses-Schmitt, he asserts, <i>"Occasionally, writing poetry is also an offering to the future: poem as a container of time, whose language signifies the era in which it was written."</i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">I haven't been able to get this idea out of my head so today I decided to try a poem about this idea. </span></div><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><h3 style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpVqaUoWJX4Tn5jn4n4S0EpPISnUpHLLChZEDz4L0G11oE6XVQJfgBIP9SaW0990kAukEiB3IiKglzzxQbfNbyiV5e9u4W95bWpTFyrEXH-dlYOI3p3GUNgkUK1WDCOo1ro_6bRaj5D2Prl_3gP0szH94WTWN2bbMV7sAn5lMcx2j65ES_bDdBdqfU/s4032/IMG_8558.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpVqaUoWJX4Tn5jn4n4S0EpPISnUpHLLChZEDz4L0G11oE6XVQJfgBIP9SaW0990kAukEiB3IiKglzzxQbfNbyiV5e9u4W95bWpTFyrEXH-dlYOI3p3GUNgkUK1WDCOo1ro_6bRaj5D2Prl_3gP0szH94WTWN2bbMV7sAn5lMcx2j65ES_bDdBdqfU/w300-h400/IMG_8558.HEIC" width="300" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;">A Call to Tomorrow</span></h3><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If poetry speaks</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">to the future,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">what do we need</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">it to say?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Should it speak</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">of hope,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">to promises of</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">better tomorrows?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Should it speak</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">of truth,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and tell of lessons</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">we still haven't learned?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If poetry speaks</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">to the future,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">which words </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">should we select?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Shouldn't every word</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">be weighed,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">carefully selected </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">for veracity?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Shouldn't words stack,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">singing songs</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">of triumph</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">over our past mistakes?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If poetry speaks</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">to the future,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">what do we want</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">it to say?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">© Cathy L. Mere, 2023</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-699397659689455615.post-27236513388134072992023-04-06T23:00:00.001-04:002023-04-07T10:16:22.162-04:00National Poetry Month: Pink Moon (6 of 30) <p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I</span></i><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">t's National Poetry Month. I will be posting a poem each day. No theme. I'm just going to follow the spark each day, wherever I might find it. It's bound to be messy. </span></i></p><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg1iv7LLa7ENnG5MFka7jYfuwn6y2-flkIs4J1YTsppdiiOrDrnZVPrh-bw9Kn3GvI2NvWcH21jjIKm9I28mSPHRzMQD8EdfcXq7hnnEaEc_O1Mi2905obrig7H_PYWcw7RTXo3Y-rtYkWT9YRTXKoPh7ugWHxHOKo8nyNuIRx0dpOKkc8kXYjvDUm/s6016/doug-morris-mK8Sg_f3TVY-unsplash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Daylight Moon" border="0" data-original-height="4016" data-original-width="6016" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg1iv7LLa7ENnG5MFka7jYfuwn6y2-flkIs4J1YTsppdiiOrDrnZVPrh-bw9Kn3GvI2NvWcH21jjIKm9I28mSPHRzMQD8EdfcXq7hnnEaEc_O1Mi2905obrig7H_PYWcw7RTXo3Y-rtYkWT9YRTXKoPh7ugWHxHOKo8nyNuIRx0dpOKkc8kXYjvDUm/w400-h268/doug-morris-mK8Sg_f3TVY-unsplash.jpg" title="Daylight Moon" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@tiggertwig?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText">Doug Morris</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com/photos/mK8Sg_f3TVY?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText">Unsplash</a></td></tr></tbody></table>Pink Moon</h3><div style="text-align: left;">In early hours of morning,</div><div style="text-align: left;">you sneak into the blue of sky</div><div style="text-align: left;">watching pansies pop,</div><div style="text-align: left;">phlox flower, daffodils dance.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Soon you will spring</div><div style="text-align: left;">into the ebony sky,</div><div style="text-align: left;">illuminating the darkness,</div><div style="text-align: left;">waking the night.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">You carry many names:</div><div style="text-align: left;">Pink Moon, Paschal Full Moon,</div><div style="text-align: left;">Breaking Ice Moon, Frog Moon,</div><div style="text-align: left;">When the Ducks Come Back Moon.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Today you watch with curiosity,</div><div style="text-align: left;">listening to a feathered chorus,</div><div style="text-align: left;">calling you into the night,</div><div style="text-align: left;">in song. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">© Cathy L. Mere, 2023 </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Cathyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08233792477358685156noreply@blogger.com1