A Grasshopper Alone

This week at Poetry Jam, the prompt is to write about being alone or lonely...
You know very well, oh
I'm not one to dwell, so
I wrote something mellow
about this young fellow.

Baby grasshopper on my porch post

A Grasshopper Alone

A grasshopper cannot find
true friends
For he’s at the mercy
of where his jump ends
Just when he thinks he’s
spotted a stop
He finds that he’s taken
too huge a hop
Over that spot and just
out of reach
He calls out “hello” to every
and each
Grasshopper as he soars
overhead
And lands wherever his
jumping has led
No friends come to visit
for their plight’s the same
Jumping and hopping
is their lonely game.
It cannot be done
with a partner in tow
Their jumps seldom land
where another one goes
The chances of two of them
landing together
Is as rare as snow in
summer’s warm weather

But if ever two should
land in one spot
I’m sure they’d remember
the manners they’re taught
        “Hello, how are you?”
          “I’m fine.” 

        “Glad we met.”
          “Good-bye”

         and “Good day!”
And without one regret
They’d both take a leap
And go on their ways
Never to meet again
all of their days.

©Donna JT Smith

Tuesday Amuse-me Day

It's Slice of Life Tuesday, so visit Two Writing Teachers and see what kind of week or day people have had by sampling their "slices"!
Last week I went for a drive with a friend to look at some potential "fun spots" for a soon to be 3 year old boy to visit while he is here.  On the meandering trip back from those places, we came across this scene.

You have heard the saying "A boat is a hole in the water into which you pour money”, and then there is "A yacht is a hole in the water lined with wood, into which you pour money".
But this lobster boat?  It looks like a boat trying to plug the hole in the water, or a boat actually being sucked down the hole in the water.  Soon there will be nowhere to toss the money in.
You can tell boats don't really have hearts, nor feel true compassion.  There were other boats nearby.  They weren't even facing this boat.  They never looked at it, nor did they try to help.  Could it be that they wanted to, but because they were all moored, they knew they couldn't reach it to rescue it.  So they all turned away so as not to see the sad plight of the lobster boat.  Salty tears in a salty sea...sure they have hearts!
Or maybe these boats are tethered to their spots so they are far enough away so as not to be able to reach one another (you know, like dogs in their separate kennels so they won't tear each other apart!). 
Maybe boats would fight at night if they weren't tied fast separately.  Maybe one did break away and bully this boat right into the sea.
Wow! I've never thought of that.  Some of these boats have "tough" names.  They might be "ocean bullies".  Of course, most of them are named with women's names...remember Roller Derby?

At any rate, whatever is really going on in the secret lives of boats, the owner of this boat is not going to be very pleased with the leakage issue here.  There will be no "quick bailing and sailing" when he gets there.  There will be rowing and towing though.
I'm happy not to own a boat.

The Passing of Ages

Poetry Friday is being hosted by Jone over at Check It Out.  There are lots of great pieces of poetry to be had there and by following the links!

I don't know what mood I was in when I first wrote this.  Yes, I do.  But that's not important.  I just remember this feeling happening after the second grandchild was about to be born.  It is a strange feeling of wanting to know more, and coming to grips with the idea that this is all I can know and pass on.  Did I do it?  I don't know.  Most likely no, not yet, as I still have unanswered questions myself and realize that for some of these questions I was given an answer once when I was too young to know I would want to remember it someday.

The Passing of Ages

I remember watching my grandparents
enjoying time
with their brothers
and sisters
laughing over
old stories of past deeds,
giving advice from a life lived
I remember as they eased away in life
and then faded in memory
my parents and aunts and uncles
became the keepers of
family stories
life's wisdoms
until slowly they too eased away,
leaving us
to become the keepers,
the knowers -
a terrifying day
of realization -
Did those before feel the same?
Where were the people to ask?
Where were the recipes?
In which village in Newfoundland did my grandparents get married?
Which aunt
        - wait, did you say she was my aunt or my cousin?
Where was that summer cottage?
Who had twins?
Which child died?

And we are next to fade.
I can feel its approach,
have I remembered enough?
have I passed it on?
was it good enough?
will they remember?
our children could never
remember enough
cannot know what we’ve forgotten
Put up new wallpaper
Paint over faded picture squares
But carry the gift forward
all the family knowledge
you can hold
for you too will age
and panic when you are the wisdom holders
patriarchs and matriarchs of family -
When the young ones ask,
      Will you know?
      Will they hear?
      Will they know
             that they are next -
             that they will need
                    to tell the stories?
         ©Donna JT Smith, 2014

The Bridge ~ A Puente

On Poetry Jam today the challenge is to write about the word "bridge".  One of the forms of poetry featured there today is the Puente - meaning Bridge in Spanish.
I decided to go the common route for bridge, even using "bridge" as my bridge in a Puente.  No deep meaning here.  Just a bridge - from over and under... you know the story...

Tip tap,
     trip trap!
My tiny hooves rap!
I'll eat as soon as I'm over

~ the bridge ~

so fine,
      all mine!
Perhaps I will dine
before you get to the clover!


©Donna JT Smith, 2014

The Owls Were Out

In a pouring rain, the owl sat in a tree next to our house; another owl was farther away.  They were talking to each other for about an hour out there.  At midnight they quit for the night, I think... They may have started up their conversation again after I fell asleep.
I really don't think I'd want to be a little critter outside at night, hearing those big voices above.  Not being a little critter by any means, I bravely fetched my phone and recorded those awesome sounds.  If you turn the volume up enough to really disturb your cat or dog, you may be able to hear the faint sound of the more distant owl answering the first's call.




Oh, great horned fowl,

I heard you howl,

Great baritone of flight.

Tucked in a tree

You haunted me;

Unseen, I felt your stare.

Your questions hung

In realms unsung

Until beyond my sight

Another heard -

Echoed the word
- 
A harmonizing pair.

Oh, stealthy owl,

How well you prowl

Tiptoeing through the night.

No time to hide

With silent glide

Piercing the moonless air.

No mice dare flit

Nor rabbit sit

Under these songs tonight.

In rain or moon

The night owl’s tune

Warns creatures to beware.

©Donna JT Smith, 2014

Poetry Friday

Poetry Friday is being hosted today by Catherine Johnson! Go there to find links to good poetry stuff!
My offerings are from yesterday and last week:
Lost and Found: Without You
Rain, Rain, Go Away  (raining like crazy again today....guess I'd better start singing again!)

Poetry Jam Prompt - Lost and Found

The prompt at Poetry Jam is to "write a poem about an object or a person that has disappeared from your life or entered it and is now uniquely special to you".

After messing about and throwing away stuff, this occurred to me and came to be.   It makes me teary to read it.  I hope it doesn't ruin your day.  I need to go do laundry or vacuum or something else now.  I'm not reading it again.  Ever. 

To cheer yourself up later, you can revisit some of my other "Lost" poems here, that I've written when I've Found other people's Lost gloves:
Pink Glove Wave
Lost Glove #2

And a "Lost Glove" writing here: First Glove of the Season


Without You

If there should ever come a day
when I look across the table
and you are not there -
when meals are unappreciated
and shirts no longer need ironing
when the pillow is still fluffed
and I open my own doors
when your hand's not there to hold
and open jars for me
when I feel the breeze kiss my neck
but not you
when no one beckons me to come outside
to look at the moon and stars
or hear the owls
when the winding roads become
just roads of convenience
not discovery
and discussion -
If ever there should come that time
I will be lost
gone
never to be found
and I will not want to be found
unless
until
someday
again
by you



©Donna JT Smith, 2014

Rain, Rain, go away...

It's been raining a lot today (Thursday) and off and on for a bit...so when I sat down to write, it wasn't as difficult to do today as it has been.
Thank you, Rain!

ceaseless Rain
incessant
inconsolable
weather
listen while
I sing
sing a song
of sun
shining
down
and clouds
moving on
as I watch
puddles rising
from the ground
cold
brown
little lakes
revealing recessed
spots in the earth
here’s one
here’s one
and another...
even on a hilltop
cheer up
Rain
you’ve had your cry
dry, dry, dry your eyes
listen Rain
as I sing a refrain
of what goes on in
Spain
and the plain,
and how you can come back
another day
Rain,
listen as I sing
singing in the rain
go away
and I promise
someday
to do a special dance
just for you
a rain dance
to welcome you
back
see
I’ve put my
dancing shoes
right here
by the door
it was nice of
you to visit
but now
here comes the Sun...

*And it worked!  Today (Friday) is gorgeous!  The sun is shining on those bright green very clean leaves!

The Moon

"So what does the Moon mean to you?" is the challenge at Poetry Jam this week.  

After thinking about it for a bit, I wrote and wrote and wrote and slashed and crumpled (figuratively) and deleted and spaced forward and edited and revised and napped and watched a little TV, until I was left with what is here.  It is a Haiku - Accrostic... a Haccrostu?

At any rate, it is four lines so MOON can be spelled out.  First line is 5 syllables, the Second and Third lines combine to make 7 syllables, and the Fourth line is 5 syllables. (ok, there is a second poem at the end of the post...just happened...)

                                           Master of disguise
                                           Orbiting pearlescent
                                           Orb

                                           Nightly reflecting

©Donna JT Smith, 2014

I have always been fascinated that the moon is smaller than the sun by a lot, and it is closer by a lot - but given those two factors you come up with two objects that appear to be the same size in the sky. and they both appear to light up.  I also like picturing the moon traveling around the earth at the same time the earth is orbiting the sun.  And because they appear to be the same size, the moon can eclipse the sun.  The sun is, of course, the greater of the two celestial bodies, but the moon is still important in its job of directing the tides and giving us something that proves that the sun is still there even in the dark.  It's a comforting thought.

I did not write a dreamy, emotion packed moon poem.  I haven't been in the mood to write for a while - not since the accident and the birth of our granddaughter.  Not sure why.  Both should be catalysts, but my writer brain has shut down for a bit.  I'm trying to get it in gear again, but I think the precariousness of life has shut me up for a bit.  I keep thinking back with some fascination on how lives can be and are changed in an instant.

One who was not here, is now here.  Ones who are here, can suddenly be gone.

Just thoughts lately.  I feel like living life for a bit, not writing it.

I was with my daughter and her family for a month, but I'm home again.  I bought a new car two days ago to replace the totaled one. I can't believe that the windshield is broken already.

Yesterday, a stone hit it, and it immediately cracked. I hadn't even owned it for 24 hours!  I know I'm being reminded yet again that stuff is only stuff.  I can deal with that.

Maybe I'm back.  Not sure.  Check here tomorrow or Friday.

The moon 

looks down

on me

nudging me

whispering

telling me to rise

and reflect

as it does -

reflect the Son

that others might see 

past the darkness

to where there is

always

Light

©Donna JT Smith, 2014

Well, that one just came to me.  Wasn't expecting it.  Maybe... could be I'm back.