Revisiting

For today, I thought I'd recap some things I put on FB but didn't put on my blog.  Some or many may have seen and read them, but I am trying to stay focused on a few projects at the house at the moment.  Every time I think we are caught up, another thing comes up and says "He--lo-o?" or "HELLLLLOOOOOOO!!!"
and then we have to respond.  Come November, and I will let you know a bit of what we've been up to.

So I am kind of cheating in a way (in my world anyway) by putting on my blog, things that I've posted recently on FB or other posts for today's Poetry Friday. 

Generations

Why can the eyes

of my granddaughter

see into my soul?

Why can I hear

her quiet thoughts

as if they were my own?

How is it that

I feel hurts and joys

of my daughter and my son?

How can I see

my image in

the lives that they’ve begun?

Why do I hear

my mother's voice

when I open my mouth to speak?

Why do I feel

my grandmother's laugh

between my own lips leak?

by ©Donna JT Smith ©10/6/2018

Who Goes There?

I wonder if a little Fawn

might come and softly,

lightly tread

to nibble on

a mushroom head,

or might a creature small

like squirrel

scurry-hurry

windy-whirl

stop to eat

with tail

acurl?

I think I’ll sit awhile

and see

if maybe,

maybe

Fairies

Be.

By Donna JT Smith ©10/10/2018

How Long?

As we grow up we clearly see
Mistakes our fathers made
And see the cost to all of us
That still we’ve not yet paid.

There is no doubt there will be more
Accrued to our account
That never have we done ourselves
Debt owed that none recount.

I’m tiring of accepting loads,
Some misappropriated;
And kindly ask that you would think
To whom you are related.

Your closet may have skeletons
You’d rather were not there
Perhaps you cannot see the past
Ancestral sins you bear.

I try to start each day anew
With clean slate and clean plate
And do my best to live and learn,
Improve some sad estate.

It wears me down and brings a tear
To think of such and such
But everyone has someone’s past
We wish no one would touch.

So keep your words more kind to all
They’re doing all they can
To keep their heads above the flow
And be a better man.

by Donna JT Smith, ©10/8/2018

Fall

Dragonflying 

over maples'

"last hurrah" - 

the end in sight;

it was good

while it lasted

by Donna JT Smith ©10-11-2018

Cry My Last

I’ll cry my last cry
Be done with the grief;
Take in waves of new air
And pray for relief.
Please, God, give me comfort,
Let my soul and mind rest
In the truth that you know
What works for my best.
I’m reaching with hands
Atremble with doubt;
I’m calling your name,
My words want to shout!
Don’t leave me alone.
I’m scared and I’m weak.
I’m listening, Lord, to
Each word that you speak.
I know in my heart
I must stop the bleeding -
You bled for me once,
That’s all that I’m needing.
There’s nothing gone right
Since I went my own way,
Ignoring you, Lord,
And neglecting to pray.
The leaves have turned old
And have fallen to ground,
But before winter rises
I want to be found.
I want to rejoice in
My rekindled life;
I want to have laughter
Unburdened by strife.
As I take to my knees
Before the Lord’s throne,
I’ll cry my last cry and
Groan my last groan;
Renewed and rejoicing
For the miracle’s free;
Step for step with the Lord
Right where I should be. 

By Donna JT Smith, 9/29/18

Why sit we in wonder?
How can we not?
When the wonder is that
He created each spot.

Donna JTSmith

Hope you found a poem or two you enjoyed.
Have a wonderful Friday and try to stop by and read more poems linked at Laura's place: Writing the World for Kids

Could be the last ride of the fall here...temps are dropping now.

Little Lovely Leggings

Poems below if you are in a hurry! But this is a bit of background story.

My granddaughter dresses herself, and has for quite some time.  She is, after all, 4 years old.  She reminds me so much of my daughter - her mother - in so many ways.  The most obvious way is in her choice of clothing.  She has her own fashion sense, as many little girls do.  I enjoy seeing what she will pick out to wear when I am visiting.  She often changes clothes once or twice a day, which also reminds me of my daughter, and actually my grandmother - one outfit is not a "one moment fits all" kind of thing.  It could be tutu time.  Shopping is a different thing and may require different clothes from eating supper or coloring.

The last time I was there, she donned this outfit as we set out.

This is the same fashion sense my daughter had and has.  They can wear things that don't look like they go together, and then suddenly they do.  It is an outfit.  It looks good and stylish and sweet.  And I love it.

Little Lovely Leggings

Miss Leggings and I
went for a walk
and on the way
we had a talk
A talk of things
quite small
and high
of things quite far
and some just nigh
and learned we lots
of goodish things
of butterfliers
and birdly wings
of toadsome legs
and mushy's cap
and leaves that fall
on cricklet's nap
and when we went
along on home
we whispered to
a friendly gnome
that we would come
to play again -
I think tomorrow
may be when.

by Donna JT Smith, ©10/5/18

And all you need is a braid and a nice warm sweatshirt, in purple, and you are ready to face the world!
I want that outfit.

Play It Again

by Donna JT Smith
****************

the

day

I wear

this outfit

will be the day

they put me away

in a place with neutral

walls and quiet music and

probably no mirrors or anything

else breakable or able to remind me

of how I don't look the way I am picturing

in my mind that has slipped way back to an age

of yore and I am twirling round the floor on tiptoes to

the sounds of violins playing a waltz or maybe The Dance

of the Sugar Plum Fairies more likely and I will have a slight smile

on my face and my eyes will be closed and I will be humming along as

if no one were watching for that is the splendor of being a little girl who is four.

Last week while driving down to visit grandchildren in PA, I realized when I arrived I was making this statement:

I had gotten out of the car at rest stops and walked around like I was all put together.  I wonder if anyone noticed.  I saw no one looking at my feet.  I guess if you act put together, you are.  
After all, I have another pair almost identical still at home to wear next time.

Not a Pair

One doesn't need

two legs the same

I wore two shoes

my teacher's game

They didn't match

One pink one blue

The same for socks

opposing hues

Attention on 

The teacher's feet

Made learning fun

And kind of sweet

Students strove

To spy faux pas

And be the first 

To cry "Aha!"

Some days on purpose

Some days mistake

But always with a

Smile partake

in any fun of 

wrongful shoes

To laugh at self

You never lose.

by Donna JT Smith, 10/5/2018

PS: On purpose, when teaching first grade, I frequently wore a blue tennis shoe and a pink one, with opposite colored socks on each foot (blue shoe, pink sock - pink shoe, blue sock) and often added a pink troll head on the laces for extra pizazz).  Now when I'm mismatched it isn't really on purpose.  Sometimes it wasn't on purpose at school either when I had almost matching flats on.

Here's an example of one of my "not on purpose" times.  I noticed while riding in the car on the way to a meeting, too late to run back and change, of course:

Noticed in the car on the way to a meeting...

More links to blogs with Friday Poems can be found at Tabatha's blog, The Opposite of Indifference

Spiritual First Thursday - Humor

Photo by Kah Lok Leong on Unsplash

Humor helps me put things in perspective, and I tend to find myself looking at difficult situations and thinking "This is going to be really funny someday - maybe even later today - or now!".  I found this clip this week, and it is basically how I like to live my life.  Humor instead of drama...



I may even have a slight problem with humor, seeing it where others don't (that may or may not have been a problem in the past...).   Still my heart is generally merry and sees the funny in many things - though I've learned to keep SOME to myself!

Proverbs 17:22 - A merry heart doeth good [like] a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones.

I do love funny - especially the kind that makes me laugh till I cry.  I remember my father laughing so hard he couldn't speak.  It was the same laugh his mother had.  Oh, to again hear that laughter as family stories were told!

I like humor like this:



Have a fun day.  Even if it isn't funny... make it fun!

There is no reason not to laugh

at self and situations;

It's like a tonic for the soul

a mini mind vacation.

by Donna JT Smith, 10/4/2018

I'll bet you will have a good start at it by reading the rest of the Spiritual First Thursday posts with Jan at bookseedstudio!

Home, Sweet Home

Home Sweet Home

There are houses that just make you smile;

Make coming home worth every mile.

They ground your tired feet,

And make your life sweet,

As they beckon you, "Come sit awhile".

by Donna JT Smith ©9/29/2018

Just had to write a limerick to go with the picture of this sweet house I spied.  Hope you are having a home, sweet home kind of day!

Ok, now back to laundry and vacuuming...MY house beckons me...you can't just sit, you know!  There are dust bunnies to be captured.

For those of you who know about our home in Friendship, Gull Haven, I am going to post some updates on that blog later today.  It has been a stressful year, but some clouds are lifting.  We may get there sometime...

Okay, updates on Friendship kitchen fiasco HERE.

Red Foxes and Maples

This week we saw changing leaves and spied a beautiful, healthy fox in a field.  Don't usually see a fox in broad daylight unless it is sickly.  This one had a gorgeous bushy tail and was leery of crossing the field in plain sight, so he looked more like he'd been disturbed from his daytime slumber.

It reminded me of the maples turning red surrounded by the greens.  I'd passed the tree a few times, and then we actually turned around so that I could take the picture.  I just had to have it for a poem that was brewing.

 Of Maples and Foxes

Scarlet in the field 

alerts 

to the cold

of deepest white

and sparkling ebony nights;

sprints

through the golden stubbly fields

and heron's cooling marsh

under unmarred blue skies;

leaps

spires of fading greens

piles of gray stones stitched acres

and babbling crystal brooks;

peers

from ever-deep-greens

through yellow tipped hedges

around silver sheds and barns;

and green

turns to gold 

and gold 

burns to red 

and red

spurns the white

cold ebony night

and scarlet

returns to 

sleep

deep

beneath

the crimson maple.

by Donna JT Smith, ©2018

I am sorry, but I will likely not visit others blogs this week.  I wrote and scheduled this a few weeks ago in case I couldn't get back to it.  Just noticed that it did post, and I'd even forgotten that I'd done it.  So here I am apologizing.  Hope your week is fun and your school year is going well, if you are teaching and retirement is going well, if you are doing that!

What a Rose Knows

This summer has been one of fun, but other things, too, that have been slightly less fun or distracting to say the least.  I must say, one of the more fun things that has kept my mind busy and happy has been Tabatha Yeatts-Lonske's poetry exchange.  I wrote poems for other poets, and received some poems in the mail.
It has been fun to get actual mail in the mailbox - kinda like the olden days!

In the midst of some chaos, I received Molly Hogan's parcel.  Molly just lives a few towns away, and knows the parts of Maine that I am familiar with also, so though I knew I wouldn't have time to savor the poem,  I opened the envelope to have a sneak peak!  Roses, ocean... but had to set it aside before reading very much.  I slid everything back in its envelope for safe keeping.  The envelope moved from the kitchen table to the kitchen counter, and then to a nightstand where it sat safely waiting for me to have a mellow moment to remember it again.

The moment came, and I went through a stack of mail and miscellaneous in the kitchen, looking for the packet.  I suddenly remembered where I'd placed it and scooted in to grab it from its safe spot!  I slid the photo of the familiar rosa rugosa out of the manila envelope and breathed a sigh of relief and relaxation!

Molly's poem, which I'd only skimmed briefly initially, now took hold of me, and I smiled to myself and nodded in agreement as I read "What Rosa Rugosa Knows".  Yes, Rosa does.
"Don't be deceived by her simplicity
and seeming air of fragility"

Here it is with the brilliant picture with poem:

What Rosa Rugosa Knows

Rugosa knows
     how to meet her needs
     to protect herself with stalks prickled and brambly
     to expand into new territory
     sending out questing suckers with ease
     using wind and water to disperse her seeds

Rugosa knows
     how to live generously
     to unfurl her tissued petals exuberantly
     releasing scent into brisk sea breeze
     her stems weaving a sanctuary
     to shelter birds, butterflies and bees
     her roots tightly gripping slipping beach

Rugosa knows
     how to thrive in adversity
     to tolerate salt spray from stormy seas
     conserving water in deeply wrinkled leaves
     to flourish in earth of poor quality
     and valiantly resist disease

Don't be deceived by her simplicity
     and seeming air of fragility

Rugosa knows

©2018 M. Hogan

Thank you, Molly!  I needed that.

We can all take a lesson from Rugosa...
she knows how to meet her needs,
live generously
and thrive in adversity -
     fragility is only her cover.


Get fed more poetry today by visiting Amy Ludwig VanDerwater, where Poetry Friday is being hosted.

Happy Anniversary

And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.

Ephesians 4:32
It’s how we’ve run our day to day married life.

It’s Forever

When I married you, 

I did not know -

Could not fathom -

That the years

Would go by so quickly.

I did not know where

years came from 

Nor where they went.

But I had only seen 21 years -

a young girl

so far

And had only known you

for a year when we said “I do” -

“I do take thee

Forever.”

It is almost that now -

I would like to take you

For one more

Forever, please.

This one hasn’t 

been long enough.

By Donna JT Smith, (c) 2018

Happy 46th anniversary, Tim.

It has been a good path, so let’s keep on walking It!

First Spiritual Thursday - My Path

I scoured my brain for ideas for this month's topic for First Spiritual Thursday.  It was not an easy task for some reason. So many activities, events, adventures and misadventures this summer have taken up brain space, making it difficult to focus on writing at all.

I finally landed on a moving target - the paths we’ve taken - by choice or nudging.

Do you remember a time something amazing happened because
   of an opportunity you took?
      a corner you turned?
         a door you opened?
How have you been led to where you are today?

Let’s just call it “My Path” and see what comes of it!
Maybe this gives you a different take on it altogether!
Even I will be surprised. I have no preconceived idea of where this will lead me...
I'm so curious as to where this "path" may lead!

KJV Dictionary definition of "path":
P`ATH, n. plu. paths. Gr. to tread.

1. A way beaten or trodden by the feet of man or beast, or made hard by wheels; that part of a highway on which animals or carriages ordinarily pass; applied to the ground only, and never to a paved street in a city.

2. Any narrow way beaten by the foot.

3. The way, course or track where a body moves in the atmosphere or in space; as the path of a planet or comet; the path of a meteor.

4. A way or passage.

5. Course of life.

He marketh all my paths. Job.33.

6. Precepts; rules prescribed.

Uphold my going in thy paths. Ps.17.

7. Course of providential dealings; moral government.

All the paths of the Lord are mercy and truth to such as keep his covenant. Ps.25.

P`ATH, v.t. To make a path by treading; to beat a path, as in snow.

To push forward; to cause to go; to make way for.

P`ATH, v.i. To walk abroad.


My take on Path: Course of life -

I was tempted to begin a timeline showing things along my path.  But it isn't the things along or in my path that are the important things. They are the evidence of God working in my life even from an early age.  For as long as I can remember I was searching for the God of my life.  I was not sure how to find Him, but I knew He was real.  I did not know why Jesus had to die.  I just knew He did.  I did not know how He related to God, but I knew He was important.  I knew I wanted to be good so I could go to Heaven, but I didn't know exactly how good I had to be.  Perhaps I could just do more good than bad. It seemed logical.  So I set off on that path.  I would be good and kind and helpful and try to do no harm.

I think God saw the path I had chosen, and maybe smiled a little at my feeble attempts to be good - at least to be more good than bad.  And He kept watching me. I somehow knew He was. It feels now like my path was a bit of a maze that God was steering me through, sometimes holding my hand, sometimes nudging me around corners or over boulders, guiding me through deep waters, pushing me past some people, and leading me to other people until he could get me through the maze and end my confusion.

I believe my path has been guided throughout my life, even when I wasn't sure how it was happening.
Why did my future husband show up at the moment he did?  Why did job opportunities open up when others closed suddenly?  Why did we call that one real estate agency to list our home and end up selling it to his boss before it was even listed - at a time when we really had to move quickly?  Why did - Why was -  How did this happen to work out even when it looked like it couldn't possibly go right? 

I have so many "why dids" and "how dids" in my pathway that are now answered simply.  I always wanted God to lead me, even when I wasn't so sure who He was to me.  And He guided my footsteps and helped me to avoid many storms in life - actually, I'm not as sure that He helped me avoid storms, so much as He helped me ride them out.  Amazingly, often it wasn't until later that I realized it was a storm that I'd been through, and perhaps might have been concerned about had I not been fixed on God.  I have rested peacefully and thankfully in His arms - as a newborn would in a mother's - almost unaware of the dangers.

I'm along for the ride.  I'm on a path that has been set for me.  It may look like I'm in control, but that's just because God's over in the passenger seat with all the controls - just like my drivers' ed instructor.

Psalm 16:11 Thou wilt shew me the path of life: in thy presence is fulness of joy; at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore.

Proverbs 4:18  But the path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day.

This is not quite on the same "path" as the above, but it is a kind of path I remember thinking about as a child...and the disappointment when I learned that it was impossible.

To Walk on Clouds

I’ve always wanted to walk on clouds
Billowed beneath my feet;
Swirl them, twirl them with my toes
Aloft on Nimbus Street;
Then peering past
The cumulus cast
An eye on all below:
Mountains insignificant,
Rivers raging slow.
But there is no solid stratus,
No cirrus stony path,
And I am much too heavy
To amble on a draft.
I’ll never traipse atop the clouds,
Though cloudless days there’ll be
When I will step so nimbly
Unweighted down and free,
Not to walk on clouds but skip
And run on higher ground
Above the highest mountain,
Cause I’m not lost but found.
I’d always wanted to walk on clouds
Billows beneath my feet
Until I found reality is
More magnificent and sweet.

by Donna JT Smith, 2018

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Poetry Friday Bird Challenges

Christie Wyman at Wondering and Wandering is hosting Poetry Friday and has thrown out a bird-related poem challenge to anyone willing to come along!  Check out the links posted...there maybe a few bird poems today.  Diane Mayr has also challenged anyone interested to select an image from the Library of  Congress (LOC) archives that is bird related. 
So I've combined the two and this is it - I would, of course, search for a gull image - The poem is read from the box at the top to start then head on around the image clockwise.

https://www.loc.gov/item/2017764654/

Title

Aboard a trawler. Selecting fish and cutting off heads. Only mackerel, whiting and occasional flounder or halibut are kept. Thrown from trough into ice-filled hold. Fish heads and non-marketable fish are thrown into sea above which hundreds of seagulls wait hungrily. Provincetown, Massachusetts

Contributor Names

Rosskam, Edwin, 1903-1985, photographer

Created / Published

1937 Summer.

Gluttonous Gulls

Gluttonous gulls 

can't help but call:

 "Come look, come see, 

come one, come all!

Look what I found - 

the heads of fish -

And boy, oh, boy, 

they look delish!"

"Share with you?

I don't think so.

You didn't catch 

these fish, you know."

"Neither did you,

so you'd better share!

Eating them all

is just not fair!"

"Fair to whom?

I found this lot!

And what did you?

I think 'twas naught!"

"Oh, fancy talk

from a common gull

Who's following boats

to snarf up cull!"

"Those fish heads

flying to the sea 

Should all belong

to me, me, me!"

"Oh, really now!

I think you're wrong;

These fish are mine,

so run along!"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"These gulls are sure

 a noisy bunch.

Their only goal:

to grab free lunch."

"If only they would

eat and share,

But seagulls aren't

that sweet and fair."

"Keep tossing heads

and no-name fishes,

Grant these gulls

their gluttonous wishes."

("I didn't sign up

for this fishing trip;

I thought this was

a cruise-type ship!")

"We'll head for shore

as sun is setting,

But they'll be back

for tomorrow's getting!"

by Donna JT Smith, 2018

Wish I'd gotten footage of the people "from away" feeding a gull on the railing beside their table - quite close to the sign saying "Do Not Feed the Gulls".  They were sharing a large platter of fries, letting him have free range of that plate.  She wasn't too pleased when he then decided to take her large piece of haddock off her plate.  She tried to shoo him away, but he came back and got the second piece of haddock, too.  They are brazen, and don't need to be fed.  They take whatever they want, whenever they want.  Nothing is safe unattended.  But if you ARE attending it and feed them, then they get even bolder - and you my friend are going to lose anything that looks as if it may have food in it even.  "Do Not Feed the Gulls"... really.  Visitors get to go home and eat in peace and quiet; we have to live with them later!

Poetry Swap from Iphigene

To the writers who want to be:

Today I am also sharing a poem I received from Iphigene Daradar in the Philippines.  She stalked my blog (very effectively and efficiently, I might add!), and came up with a beautiful summary, beginning with a line I had written in one of my posts recently.

LIKE A RUSHING WIND

"Life is like
a rushing wind
around me."

I sit to make
lists in hope
to catch life's
gush into a string
of words
to check off.

I write #3
only to hear
a knock,
life at my door
asking me
to go see
beach roses
blooming by
my porch.

I bend down
breathe in
the scent
of pink and white
roses, to notice
the day was best
for a ride to
the coast

Shook it off
stamp my feet
to the house and
finish the list.
ten things to write -
to be done.

I write #5
breeze blew
my paper flew
I run to shut
the window
found a bird
perched

I stop to listen
to its song,
an invitation
to dance -
shoeless
on the grass
beneath the
softening sun

Oh! Life is like
a rush of wind
sweeping off
my list, telling me
to be at ease
let it be, and
live.

©Iphigene Daradar, 2018

Thank you, Iphigene.  There is no more to say.  Just a sigh and a smile.

Please visit Molly at Nix the comfort zone for more poetry goodness.