Monday, October 10, 2022, Indigenous Peoples' Day
Yet some people are still calling this day
Columbus Day ~
And, we wonder why we need World Mental Health Day.
This land of the free and the brave,
rich and poor, black and white and all colors in between,
injustice and color blindness,
powerlessness, cogs in the systems of systems,
phone bills and school loans, mortgages and rent,
global warming and division; masks and unmasked.
But sure ~ meditate they say.
So, I did.
And, then I walked over to my neighbors',
she, too, was meditating.
Ten things I try to feel with my senses
to quiet my chattering mind, she said.
Me too, I replied,
here's some bread I made for you,
and I handed her the round loaf of
crusty artesian bread
I'd made in the cast iron pan
my husband bought for me.
We whined about unfinished window trim
and how many times we have to ask.
I'm making spaghetti, my mom's recipe
and my husband is hunting, she smiled,
I'll text you when it's done.
Okay, I accepted the invitation.
And, I walked back home through the path
in the woods
between her house and mine
and I wrote a poem
while I waited for her dinner bell.
Draft 2022 Shari Daniels
Writing and sharing a poem a day ~
"The writing is inhaling and the sharing is exhaling.
They don't have to be good, they just have to be true."
~Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
Writing and sharing a poem a day ~
"The writing is inhaling and the sharing is exhaling.
They don't have to be good, they just have to be true."
~Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
To the chatter that stirs a Bru-ha-ha when I accidentally wake at 2:30am because I climbed into bed too early because of the chatter Bru-ha-ha the night before,
It's not necessary for you to attend to my restlessness, to pick the locks of the anxious back doors of my brain causing turbulent mental weather and hopscotching through time and space rounding up all the past forget me nots and future would bees to relish in unproductive wallowing.
I don't need reminders of projects to be due and ones I've not yet invented but put off. And, yes, I realize the earth is a hot mess and my grandchildren and great great grandchildren even possibly will one day point their fingers at me and ask, What did you do to us? And, also, I am conscious of the fact that time is moving faster and faster with each passing year so please. You. Must. Stop. shouting at me my number of years that I've lived versus what I've left. I. CAN. ADD. AND. SUBTRACT.
This is a gentle reminder that should you visit me tomorrow while I am attempting a full eight hours sleep, I'm calling in my Chatter Board of Advisors
and they WILL be attending the meeting.
You will all have some explaining to do to the members in charge.
I will be expecting a full report.
Signed, Tired.
Draft 2022 Shari Daniels
Writing and sharing a poem a day ~
"The writing is inhaling and the sharing is exhaling.
They don't have to be good, they just have to be true."
~Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
She knew it was predicted
a coldness forecasted
the signs all there
moments of soft autumn glow,
warmth, softness and comfort.
She knew it couldn't last
many seasons behind her
the chill always returning
to settle the perennial score.
Bring the flowers in -
at least cover them,
she reminds herself,
protect the beauty
stretch each sacred moment
of radiant heaven and bliss.
But she forgets this small act of care
distractions rob her common sense
her careless neglect invites
the creep of silent hoar.
In the morn, distress her first alarm
she gently caresses her blooms
wrapped in frozen crystals
and knows that soon each petal
must say good-bye as it wilts away.
I'm so sorry, she whispers to each blossom,
in the sorrow of her deepest gloom
She gazes up at the morning dawn
her reminder of the hopeful light
and she sighs with cautious knowing
for the season to return
to thaw with gentle charm
her garden of the heart.
Draft 2022 Shari Daniels
Sarah Grace Tuttle is hosting Poetry Friday today. Grab some coffee and a scone and head over to read a few poems and share you own.
Oh, Dear Squirrel,
racing along the twisting branches
high among the tallest of oaks,
leaping from tree to tree
across the air without hesitation
Are you not afraid
of missing a steady branch
your estimations a wee bit off?
or worse. . .
the branch not able to sustain you at all?
and breaking - prompting a long, treacherous fall?
Has this happened to you, Dear Squirrel?
If so -
How do you manage?
to continue climbing back up
on the highest of trees
and repeating the feat?
I mean it must seem like the ground
is light years away from your place so high in the sky,
Do you look down?
or keep your eyes on the road
intent on your destination?
Please tell me dear squirrel,
how do you do it?
What's your fear busting secret?
For I desire to fly like you
across the sky
from tree to tree
with the bravery of a squirrel.
draft 2022 Shari Daniels
Writing and sharing a poem a day ~
"The writing is inhaling and the sharing is exhaling.
They don't have to be good, they just have to be true."
~Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
An early commute of 37 miles to teach writers
Ada's The Slow Down poem a balm
for my languishing soul
The Lightkeeper, she reads
with a voice of sweet honey
The air thick with fog this warm autumn morn
Stay awake, the poem's words speak loud
a friend, pulling me by the hand,
so I might see this for once in my life.
the light in search of the lost.
Visions of my own lightkeeper friend
swirl between the poem's words and Ada's voice
I feel her hand as I stepped inside of this poem,
lost in my fog, seeking a lighthouse.
Shari, she whispers, the world needs your voice.
I need your voice. Give us your gift. I'll be waiting.
She is in the front row, her cheers are the loudest
Genuine, real, and true, with each word
tossed out for eyes other than mine.
To my lightkeeper friend I say,
You taught me to live like this.
Writing and sharing a poem a day ~
"The writing is inhaling and the sharing is exhaling.
They don't have to be good, they just have to be true."
~Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
Oh, tiniest of oak leaves that flutter from high above down to the pages of a notebook in waiting.
Why now? This moment? Why did you let go? So miniscule you are - the baby leaf - Your elders still hanging on. . .
Perhaps it was your lightness the breeze so easily lifts you from the sturdy branch. Perhaps you had not yet learned the act of holding on.
But - what if it was a mistake? to let go so very soon? What if there was more of what you were supposed to live as a leaf among majestic oaks?
What if you letting go was weakness? Fear? or giving up?
If all depends, I suppose on who is doing the watching You may be the way-shower for some and what not to do for others.
Either way, you are a teacher in the art of letting go.
draft 2022 Shari Daniels
Writing and sharing a poem a day ~
"The writing is inhaling and the sharing is exhaling.
They don't have to be good, they just have to be true."
~Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
Today, I am participating in twowritingteachers Slice of Life. Join us in sharing a slice of your life, or take a sweet moment to read some small slices in the lives of others. May they inspire you to write and record you own small moments so that you may find meaning is what our lives have to offer us.
We arrived at the cabin on the peninsula at Lake of the woods the water level had dropped 3 feet since last time
The dock had to be lowered pulled out to reach the boats the duck boats hauled closer to the edge of shore
It’s an Eco challenge every time I come up here Steve said, breathing heavy
A mystery eco-challenge, I added because you never know what the challenge will be
I looked over the bay at the glistening shimmer of the sun on the slowly rolling waves of clear and healing water breathed in the solitude and untethered the fraying rope tied to the rest of the world
Islands of My Soul 