poetry

The Gift of the Trowel

| Shari Daniels

My youngest brother, Christopher, died suddenly on December 11, 2024. He was 47 years old, 12 years younger than myself. He was full of life, mentored and trained by my father as a mason and followed in his footsteps, as one who builds things of stone, brick and cement, with the work of his hands. He left behind a daughter and son, a mother whose heart is broken, four older siblings, and hundreds of people who loved and admired him and his work.

As when my father died five years ago, I struggled to make meaning of his leaving this earth with the rest of us behind. There must be something that is to be done to carry their legacy of who they were forward. What is it that he wants me to do? To be?

I held one of his treasured and very used cement trowels in my hand and I knew. Everything he made was out in the world for all to see – it would last for decades. Centuries perhaps. Banks, homes and schools. His work is a gift to be admired.

I wasn’t doing that.

I filled notebooks of writing, every day pages filled, rarely sharing with the world my work. A blog with long seasons of neglect. A few academic articles published. He was telling me, after his death, put it out there – before it is too late. I’m 59 years old. Get to work. Get-er-done. He would be my guide, my biggest cheerleader, my mentor and teacher.

So, here I am, writing poems for my brother so he knows what he’s left behind. So, he knows his influence. So, he knows he is loved and will not be forgotten.

The Gift from the Trowel (poem #1 for Christopher)

What can I make of all this?
All that he left behind?
His daughter, his son.
A mother whose prayers
gave the wrong answer.

All the tools of the maker - 
concrete crusted saws and rusty blades,
missing drill bits and duct-taped cords.
Scattered and strewn here and there.

His trowel sits alone . . .
now out of the dance.

Like the brush of a painter,
the pen of a poet,
or the knife of a Maplewood carver - 
this tool of the artist,
now idle and still
is nothing without the art-maker.

My fingers embrace
the gray, faded, handle,
curling tightly where his would've been.
I feel his soft hand blanket warm over mine
as he decides to take over as guide.

His voice whispers so calmly, so wise and so brave - 
and says - Shari-boo - Big Sis -

it's your turn.

pep talk from shel sol24~7/31

| Shari Daniels

I needed a little pep talk from Shel Silverstein, my Poet Guide for March, to put something out there for the world today. Here’s how the conversation went:

Why Hello Mr. S, 
How silly should we be?
I'm not known for having fun,
so please lead the way for me!

I'm going to need a guide
One who knows just what to do.
Thank goodness, you're the one!
The one I choose is YOU!

Now, Shari, don't you worry 'bout a thing! (that's Shel)
I've seen you have fun before!
The only advice I have 
is to add a little zing!

A dash of zip!
A splash of zap!
and you'll be sizzling all day long! 
Now, listen to me, Gurl. . . .
I'm hardly EVER wrong!

So. . . I gave it a little go. 

#poetguideconversationpoem

I’m doing the 31 Day March Slice of Life over at Two Writing Teachers along with many other fabulous teacher-writers and others who just wish to challenge themselves to 31 days of writing and sharing with the world. If you’d like to read a few lovely posts from others, head over to today’s entries!

Why did I hesitate? SOL #1/31

| Shari Daniels 
A March SOL ~Day 1 Poem

I did not intend to participate
with too much upon my plate
and years of starting, by day 3, 
I'd see my words deflate.

Pages fill inside my notebooks,
to lift them out, I aggravate.
But what good are words that hibernate
and procrastinate their fate?

An inner nudge to take a peek
to see who might be there.
They lure me in with niggling bait.
happy entries not to spare.

My writing friends, they do not care
or berate a missing date!
They wave and hug and celebrate
all who join and congregate!

I could not remain in this side-eyed state
on this side of the gate.
No more the need to contemplate 
or force my pen to hesitate!

The notebook words leapt with delight
set free to jubilate,
Were here for fun,  squeeze in some play
and hope to conversate!

I must leave now to deviate
From this poor attempt at silly rhyme
to type these words and send this off 
Before I'm much too LATE! 🙂

#imperfectpoembyshari

I can’t believe it’s already March AND that I almost declined from writing with all of my writing friends! To see what others are writing about or join in the challenge, head over to Two Writing Teachers and check out some more blogs and writing inspiration.

Perplexed ~ SOL 2023 (Slice 2/31)

| Shari Daniels

Perhaps I was not cut out for the Slice of Life Challenge this year. On Day 1, I wrote a poem and on Day 30, a response poem to the responses to the poem. It is quite perplexing.

It’s not that I needed 29 days to think of something else to write. There are actually 24 new poems in my notebook and roughly 200 filled pages with the scribing of my ink this month. My notebook is bursting at the seams. In fact, I may run out of pages before tomorrow is done. I’m trying not to brag, but my pen has this down.

But, much of the time, the words do not have the desire to creep out of the safekeeping of the notebook. I try to lure them out, but they are shy. Tired. Cozy and safe nestled between the covers of March 2023. Oh dread, I hear the voice of Eeyore. And, Piglet assuring me we did the best we could. And, that I still wrote.

And, such I time I had! So much play happened in the notebook this month! I cannot wait to tell you!

But, not until April – when the month of poetry begins.

That’s when the poems all wake up and fight for their time in the spotlight.

Hmmmm. . . I maybe just started at the wrong month. 🙂

Dear readers. . . (March sol#2023)

| Shari Daniels

A first Slice of Life came out as an apology. Unknowing what to begin with, a poem wriggled out. If you haven’t the time or the energy or the wherewithal to figure out your way through my typewriter malfunctions (misspellings are my own), I’ve edited it below, with a few revisions, for your convenience and efficiencies.

Dear Reader

I apologize up front
as you make a split second decision
to click on the link
that brought you to these words.

I know your day is busy
fraught with to-do lists and wanna/should-do's, too
your precious time is just that -

precious.

But, I just need to let you know
there is no glitter or gold here
no words of wisdom either
or tips or tricks, hacks or shortcuts
on how to do whatever it is
you ought to do today.

All I have to offer are
random words from this old machine,
she skips every now and then
and is missing the apostrophe key

But, oh she is quite adept
at knowing spasms of delight,
admirations and whispers of bliss
or a split second moment of awe.

So, it is with great regret
and sincere apologies
bad spelling and fading ink
that you had to
 slow
down
to read

these painstaking words on this page

but, they are all I have to give.


#a not so good poem by shari daniels 2023

I am participating in the twowritingteachers 31-day Slice of Life challenge this month. If you’d like to read the words of other Slicers, please head over to the Slices of the Day at twowritingteachers (you gotta scroll way down). 🙂

To his mother ~ an epistolary poem

| Shari Daniels

It was Margaret’s poem in my inbox that ignited my spark to receive poem today. She nudged me over to Ruth’s lovely page, who is hosting Poetry Friday today and inviting us to give a go at a recipe poem.

Ellen Bass, my poet guide this month, along with Wendell Barry, has been also offering advice this month. The Epistolary Poem, a poem written as a letter, a form has been shaping poems in my notebook this month.

Could I combine the two? The recipe poem and the letter poem?

Perhaps . . .

Thank you to Margaret, Ruth, Ellen, my husband’s adoration of the food I cook for him and, his mother’s love.

If you’d like to read more poems, or add your own, head over to Ruth’s page to read a few more recipe poems. Be sure to fill your cup of coffee first.

What I really want

| Shari Daniels
draft 2022 Shari Daniels

Jacqueline Suskin, this morning, teaches us about writing Manifesting Poems. The kind of writing that puts our dreams, wishes and hopes for our lives on paper and lets the universe know so it can begin rearranging our path and give us signs in where to go. She shares a poem of of her own and titles it, What I Want is Family. This felt like an invitation.

So, I wrote my own “What I Want” poem. Taking to my typewriter to see if the keys could help, I got it all down. Afterwards, my laptop went to work, cleaning it up, with a few revisions and edits. It’s still pretty drafty, not very good.

But it feels true.

What I Really Want is Love
I really want just love - all of it.
The deep love one feels for another
you know what I'm talking about -
the kind where that soul being you chose
for your partner and you synchronously
roll over under the covers
and he tucks your blanket in snuggly
behind your back, that spot
you can't reach where cool swaths of air
swirl under bringing the chills.
He protects that.

But, I want more than this,
I want everyone to have that kind of love
from someone.
Maybe if only from a pet -
that will do.

More than even this, I want everyone
to walk around will that kind of love inside them
hearts so wide open
radiating that love
spewing it out
all over the world everywhere they go.

To the trees, the hills, the sky,
the fields, the flowers, the insects even.
And, to other humans
especially those not like them.
That's a special kind of love.

If we all that that kind of love
to fill the world with
we'd know to protect it with all our hearts,
do everything we could to save
its preciousness
for our children, and theirs.

It would be only then, I could leave this earth
knowing I loved enough for that
to happen.

October 2022 draft SD

A small delight

| Shari Daniels
draft Shari Daniels 2022

I’ve been reading and writing from Jacqueline Suskin’s book, A Poem A Day, and finding meaning in the smallest of moments.

She writes:

“Meaning is a choice. . . the trick is to be fully aware of your choices. . . what’s valuable to you isn’t random; it’s a crafted lens that you see through, that you add to and take away from willingly, throughout your lifetime. You can delve into the details surrounding you and measure the might of sacredness in each. . . anything can be holy.”

I love this about poetry. How it heightens your sense of sacred moments and how the practice cultivates an awareness so much so that we “saturate our lives with meaning”.

And, of course, since Jacqueline uses a vintage typewriter to type her poems, I was inspired to do the same. Mine has a few hiccups that emphasize even more imperfections of my poems.

But, I kinda like that.