Cousins

Doolin, County Clare, Ireland

This poem was written in response to a prompt in How to Write Poetry: A Guided Journal with Prompts to Ignite Your Imagination related to imagery. The recommendation was to make a list of images conveying grief, anger and love ( I added delight since that is what I happened to be feeling a the time), and then exploring what they have in common.

Cousins
 
I grieve
with a deep ache
a longing for something lost;
I hold an emptiness
as thick as a 500-year old tree.
 
I delight
with a child’s joy
a spontaneous spirit;
an unbound energy
as light as the free-flowing air we breathe.
 
I anger
filled with fear
a disconnect with my Self;
an instant reaction
as sharp as the blade of the kitchen knife.
 
I love
my heart wide open
a need to touch something true;
feeling for solid ground
as real as the earth below my two feet.
 
In life’s vast field,
grief and delight, anger and love
play like cousins
in the grass of spring.

This poem is part of an online collection I call Meditative Blossoms.

Fanore

Fanore, County Clare, Ireland

Another poem written to a prompt provided in How to Write Poetry: A Guided Journal with Prompts to Ignite Your Imagination. On the technique of imagery, the prompt guided me to imagine a vivid physical setting from somewhere that I’ve traveled, focus on specific imagery from the scene, and transport the reader to that place.

Fanore
 
The long grass slumbers,
a field of feathery green;
succumbed long ago
to the wild winds off
the Atlantic sea.
 
A jumble of old fence,
worn wood posts and crooked cable,
finished blocking
the seekers from this
soul sanctuary.
 
Where the earth rises
to a crest, an alter high,
the view opens;
her arms spread so wide,
inviting you in.
 
The breathless blue sky
dips to meet the deep dark sea.
A mystery -
their infinite play
to the horizon.
 
Waves crash and collide
speaking to the stony shore.
Salty mist moist;
the hair on your skin
quivers with its touch.

This poem is part of an online collection I call Little Morsels of Delight.

i don’t know

Doolin Ireland - 3 Surprised Sheep.JPG

I don’t know.

Given the fact that there is more that I don’t (than do) know, why is it so challenging to embrace these 3 little words?

Maybe because, from the time we are wee little things and on through school and work, we are rewarded knowing stuff, for getting things right, having answers? Maybe because when we know, we feel safe and in control?

I’m finding, though, there’s a power in accepting that I don’t know. In a way, it is freeing. With a little curiosity, not knowing can be an adventure, and even fun.

How do you feel about not knowing?

 

* My husband and I surprised these 3 sheep when we showed up on the road next to their field, which was situated on the coast in Doolin, Ireland. (It was sunset and I also caught this sweet swallow resting on a fence along the road.)