Monday, February 16, 2015

Hope, Promise, Love

I hope your Valentine's Day was nice.  Mine was spent with the power going off -with lightening and hurricane like winds.   This is the second time in a week-we have lost the power.  A transformer blew Thursday.  And on Saturday we had strong winds and lost the power again.  

Now, we are under another winter storm advisory.  So, I am baking like a Ninja and like a Girl Scout trying to "Be prepared."

Over in the Imaginary Garden, Karin inspired us with this challenge:

"Your task, should you choose to accept it, is to write something born out of a promise. This can be a promise of yours or of someone else, or of some remembered or imagined someone else.  Or of a remembered or imagined you! "

I took the challenge of making Valentine's in non-traditional colors.  I thought of the song, "You are my Sunshine."  I sang it to both of my kids, when they were little.   And let's not forget The Beatles, "Sun, sun, sun here it comes..."   

I also thought of one of my favorite poets- e.e. cummings~

 I was fortunate to have my hearts published in The Stampers' Sampler.   Thank-you, to editor, Devon Warren~


Promise song
 etches pink-gold
faith buds
heart's topaz
hugs cherub
mountain's moments measure
waking violets tender as
green roses ripening
in pocketed sunshine
ripening roses green
as tender violets waking
measures moment's mountains
cherub hugs
 topaz heart
buds faith
gold-pink etches
song's promise

©Ella Wilson

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Monday, Monday

Monday was not like any other day.  Now, I have that Monday, Monday song stuck in my head.  I have seen signs of spring here which will likely be glazed over with ice by tomorrow.  What is it like in your neck of the woods?!

Over in the Imaginary Garden, I attempted the Sunday Mini Challenge, hosted by Grace.  I ended up with two poems, when company arrived-I set them aside.  Then my son arrived later that evening.  He brought his fur baby, Wade.  I was thankful for the nice day and we spent most of it hiking and being outside. 

   So, I am going to attempt to write a poem based on Cuban poet, Carilda Oliver Labra.   Grace shared with us that she is one of the most influential poets in Cuba.   A lot of her poetry is influenced by social causes and philosophy, but her main theme is love.  Her poetry is erotic-which I found difficult to write.  It seems my issue was not enough or too much.  I struggled.  I used a line of Carilda's poetry*______*.

Anchored Hope

Constellations freckle my
 eyes with Shamrock gold
as prophesy unfolds
*where have you fled with your wild box full of hearts*
harbor ebbs n' flows 
I carry spring's umbrella
as thunder rolls
sea's song tangles
ropes towards
home port's

 Rose quartz kisses
paint strawberry blush
white skin's canvas
as red cardinal's song
opens mind
spring's sacred prayer

 Shoals bewitch 
Cape of hope 
 my spare blue skirt
hopes your sky 
will lift my sails
white pearl wishes hidden
 midnight souls
who heed
tide's lullaby. 

©Ella Wilson 

Thursday, February 5, 2015

Struggling with SADD

I haven't had SADD-Seasonal Attention Deficient Disorder this bad-since I lived in Alaska.  Ifelt justified to have it there. The land of the so many extremes-tons of snow blowing, in the Anchorage dust bowl, the arctic blast of frigid air, and the lack of daylight.   Here in the south-I feel I shouldn't be afflicted.   We do not have any snow, but the lack of sunlight and gray dove sky is altering me.  I think losing my beloved furry best friend suddenly-is part of it.

 I have written lines of poetry, but I felt nothing I wrote was worth sharing.   I realize now, being away from the blogging community probably hasn't helped.  Everyone is so kind and respectful,  as we share our corners of our world.   I have become like origami.  I folded and tucked myself away.  It isn't my style and embarrassing to admit.  My family always reminds me I shouldn't share things like that, but it is the truth.  Besides, when we share we usually find out we are not alone.

I was published in Art Journaling magazine about dealing with winter.  I have not seen the issue, yet,  I reread the words I submitted the other day.  I wrote about finding our happy.  Poetry makes me happy-so here I am listening to my own advice.  This and I think I need to try painting again-play with color.  Yes, we need to create our own sunshine, when we lack it.   We need to embrace the playfulness that makes our inner light shine.


Thank you, to Stampington editor, Amber Demien-she is a joy to work with~

Over in the Imaginary Garden I shared a prompt:

“The “Kumulipo” is an old Hawaiian prayer chant that poetically describes the creation of the world. The word literally means “beginning-in-deep-darkness.” Here darkness doesn't connote gloom and evil. Rather, it’s about the inscrutability of the embryonic state; the obscure chaos that reigns before germination."

*The chickadee has nothing to do with my poem-I just like it.

I added to the challenge of picking some symbolism from where one is born and to write about the before process of their poem.   I was born in Vacationland-a nickname for the state of Maine.  I know the natives do not agree-at this time.  My family has 76 inches of snow.

 The Chickadee is the state bird and we are known for having sixty-one lighthouses, besides being known for Lobster, potatoes, tall Pine trees and Blueberries.

Foggy Shoals

Bare branches prison  moon child's eyes
Opal's fire hidden
beneath foggy shoals
in slate blue cracked earth
between tweets and dove
 gray inked pages.

An island appears
sputtering waves
in salty seaweed
creatures squawk in
strange tongues.

Hidden clock
floats in circles
of  bittersweet
dreams, parchment, and double click Cosmos.

Scarlet rain appears
falling stars
gray rose garden
 boundary lines of self
are redrawn.

©Ella Wilson