Weedon Island #5, Neruda

You will ask why his poetrydoesn’t speak to us of dreams, of the leaves,of the great volcanoes of his native land?Come and see the blood in the streets,come and seethe blood in the streets,come and see the bloodin the streets! ~~~Pablo Neruda, “I Explain Some Things”

We have
Apple Fritters
apple slices, Jarlsberg cheese
Water, coffee.

So we taste the sweetness,
talk and laugh to keep from crying
Before we write.

The season is turning
dry now
but the ditches will be filled
by a flood of tears,
blood of those murdered in the streets.

Our President says our votes won’t count,
our voices will be silenced,
So he can win. He must win.
His dead father still punishes any loss.

He laughs
at the anguish
of a reporter shot with a rubber bullet in the knee.
Calls his pain a thing of beauty.
His followers laugh with him
Feel joy rise in their ranks
The certainty of violence,
o seductive, easy.
The simple answer
they long for.
He rallies them
To feel
the power of bullies.

“Dad, he made fun of me…”
Why the fuck you cryin’…
I’ll give you something to cry about.
Here, take this gun,
He’ll crap his pants..hahaha…
He’s a loser
Don’t be a loser
Show him who’s boss
Kick the shit out of him
Don’t be a pussy.
Suck it up.
Make your old man proud.

“Her? Fuck her, that bitch,”
she asked for it.

Long ago I heard Pablo Neruda
call out to his nation,

“When I got the chance I asked them a slew of questions. They offered to burn me; it was the only thing they knew.”—-Pablo Neruda

These words once seemed so distant from my home.

These words once seemed so distant from my home.

Photo by Malcolm Garret on Pexels.com

Inspired Writing: From Silly to Wise–A Four Week Workshop*, or “Once you can accept the universe as matter expanding into nothing that is something, wearing stripes with plaid comes easy.” ― Einstein

*Not only for experienced writers. Join in even if you don’t think you can write!. You may surprise yourself!

water-fire-abstract-black-backgroundphoto from Google photos

Dear People,
During these trying times, it can help to be inspired by wisdom, humor and profound observations. For those who do not know me: I am a published writer, and have been teaching writing at the college level for the past twenty years.  I’ve always found inspiration for my own writing from writers and thinkers, and so am offering a workshop to inspire your own writing.

In this four week workshop, we will read short inspiring selections from many wisdom traditions as well as by humorists, chefs, visual artists, philosophers, comedians, fiction and non-fiction writers and poets, then we’ll discuss one of these before we write. Some of the passages will be philosophical, some comforting, others just delightful, playful or funny.

Subjects will range from food to furniture from silly, to spiritual.

Our writing will be whatever we are inspired to say after our discussion. Sharing what we write will be optional, but encouraged. I will also offer writing guidance based on Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg, and others.

Here is an example of the types of passages we could consider:

“As you unfold as an artist, just keep on, quietly and earnestly, growing through all that happens to you. You cannot disrupt this process more violently than by. looking outside yourself for answers that may only be found by attending to your innermost feeling.”~~~Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

Here’s another: “You have to stay in shape. My mother started walking five miles a day when she was 60. She’s 97 now and we have no idea where she is.” ~~George Carlin, comedian

The first session will be free. If you choose to continue, the cost will be $60.00 for the four week workshop.

Begins once per week October 1st-November 5th (day and time be determined) via Zoom (instructions will follow)

If you are interested, please email me at andapeterson@yahoo.com, or leave a comment here.

 

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Inspired Writing: From Silly to Wise–A Four Week Workshop*, or “Once you can accept the universe as matter expanding into nothing that is something, wearing stripes with plaid comes easy.” ― Einstein

*Not only for experienced writers. Join in even if you don’t think you can write!. You may surprise yourself!

water-fire-abstract-black-backgroundphoto from Google photos

Dear People,
During these trying times, it can help to be inspired by wisdom, humor and profound observations. For those who do not know me: I am a published writer, and have been teaching writing at the college level for the past twenty years.  I’ve always found inspiration for my own writing from writers and thinkers, and so am offering a workshop to inspire your own writing.

In this four week workshop, we will read short inspiring selections from many wisdom traditions as well as by humorists, chefs, visual artists, philosophers, comedians, fiction and non-fiction writers and poets, then we’ll discuss one of these before we write. Some of the passages will be philosophical, some comforting, others just delightful, playful or funny.

Subjects will range from food to furniture from silly, to spiritual.

Our writing will be whatever we are inspired to say after our discussion. Sharing what we write will be optional, but encouraged. I will also offer writing guidance based on Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg, and others.

Here is an example of the types of passages we could consider:

“As you unfold as an artist, just keep on, quietly and earnestly, growing through all that happens to you. You cannot disrupt this process more violently than by. looking outside yourself for answers that may only be found by attending to your innermost feeling.”~~~Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

Here’s another: “You have to stay in shape. My mother started walking five miles a day when she was 60. She’s 97 now and we have no idea where she is.” ~~George Carlin, comedian

The first session will be free. If you choose to continue each one hour session will be $15.00. Each month will feature a new topic and writer.

Begins once per week October 1st-November 5th (day and time be determined) via Zoom (instructions will follow)

If you are interested, please email me at andapeterson@yahoo.com, or leave a comment here.

 

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What kind of courage do we need? We must accept reality in all its immensity…the only kind of courage that is required of us: the courage to meet the strangest, most awesome and most inexplicable of phenomena.~~Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

The Courage We Need is

to stand alone
on the dance floor.

The courage we need is
to stay steady

as we feel the foundation cracking

to see clearly
through lies
thick as heavy blankets
as the sleepers
pretend wakefulness.

The courage we need is
to refuse
the safety
of the trance.

The courage we need is
to love with a broken heart,
shed fears like leaves,
bend, bow
and continue.

Resurrection

Nobody was ever drunk on Easter

The morning too early and bright

unusual

not dread.

My parents, instead of hiding 

their drinking in the garage,

  as we kids played, 
  yet certain of the carnage to come,

took us to the woods on Easter

to teach us about resurrection

they could not imagine for themselves,

and

to gather moss

to become the bed 

for our Easter eggs.

At home we wrapped the eggs

in leaves, old coffee grounds

used for their brown color,

leaves from the forest

for patterns,

strips of colored cloth as dye

all bound in burlap, tied with string,

boiled, then unwrapped, 

eggs as earth-colored spheres

like gray stones, like brown shades of bark,

streaks of orange, blue, red

like a dawning sun,

the river in the forest,

a cardinal’s feather.

Before the coloring of the eggs,

in the woods,

we lifted muddy damp moss

with care

from the forest floor 

covered with the moldy dead leaves

that mulch life,

and strangely,

carry a fertile scent

of sweet loam

floating in the air, the promise, 

a resurrection guaranteed only

by a fallen tree 

on its trunk sprouting a cacophony of mushrooms,

the detritus of a tuft of fur

all turning, sinking into soil

then tender violets rise beneath the tree trunk,

later a bud on a branch of a sapling.

For Greta

“But you, too young to say
impossible,
You make it possible again and again…”
~~lyrics from the song Rise Up by Roy Zimmerman, after the Parkland shootings

Only the old believe in death
fooled by their changing bodies,
unchanging minds
stiffened
struggling to hold back time.
Looking back so much

eyes lose sight
of what is ahead.

I am old now
but live

with wonder at my place in:
the circular centers of flowers,
sacred geometry of shells,
endless Fibonacci forms
full roundness
of the moving earth
rolling and
returning
rolling and returning.

I stand
aged
on the edge
of uncertainty,
discovery,
arms open
mind open
to every
possibility.

“Let everything happen to you. Beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final.”

~~~ Rainer Maria Rilke

The middle of the night
he returns
to leave you again
as he did long ago.

Let it happen
let it happen again.
Rilke is right
you know

against reason.

But first you fight
fate, karma
and bad luck
all the
invisible
opponents

you turn your face into the pillow
from blows
the subconscious lands

at last,
like a boxer on the bloody floor,
you resort
to prayer
whispered
into the pillow.

sleep returns only
upon surrender
as illusions depart,
and childhood longings,
do the same.

It is morning.

ten billion years

The night
gathers our wishes
sent wistful
to shine as billions of hopes
in the black sky,
forming paths of light
from our longings.

What set stars ablaze
set us afire as well,
born, as we were,
in nebula nurseries.

Mother/father stars
draw upward our gaze,
we children
of planets grown full and massive,
dying yet deathless gaseous energy
we were released, transformed.
We have long forgotten
the super nova of numberless explosions,
how we floated on helium
to earth,
settling as electrified dust sparking, fiery
illuminating hope.