Mouse on the movie "The Gruffalo"... you have to see this one if you haven't...mother squirrel concocts a story for her two youngsters, somewhat based on what she's seen that day...the mouse in her story does the same. Keep a sharp eye out as you watch and listen. It's a storyteller in a storyteller's tale, all based on things they have seen that day. The more you see it, the more you see.
This is my 4 year old granddaughter's picture of the mouse. She sat and
studied him for awhile, and I watched her as she looked back and forth
from tv to paper and considered his shape, features and color. She had a
few attempts before this one, that I wasn't aware she'd done until
peeking in her notebook.
You can see here, her continuous line for the body and the 3-D legs (both sides, not just sticks)
My poem to a Gruffalo and friend:
Imaginary Fiend?
the imaginary Gruffalo
came to eat me, don't you know...
he's very tall with knobby knees,
a poisonous wart and spines like trees;
though I'm a mouse, I'm pretty sly,
and with my tricks, I walk right by
that owl, fox and snake who try
to snack on me
'cause I rely
on Gruffalo who follows me
so I'm as carefree as can be.
by Donna JT Smith, 11/29/18
My other poem, thought in part while watching granddaughter draw...and thinking about the arts...and what it means to be a human that creates and thinks:
Heart
When I draw,
I watch as my heart
colors and shapes
the page.
When I write,
I listen to my heart
color and shape
each scene.
When I live,
I love with my heart;
color and shape
are unimportant.
by Donna JT Smith, 11/29/18
More, more, more...encore, you say? Head on over to Carol W. at Carol's Corner where more poems are awaiting.
It's the day after Thanksgiving already? It's hard to believe. Time has gone by rather quickly sometimes and at others very, very slowly. It's all a matter of where my focus lies at the moment, I guess. I am grateful for many moments that keep me focused on the important things in life. Like this.
I'm spending time with my grandchildren this month. My 4 year old granddaughter is with me while her brother is at school, so we have some time of drawing, writing, music and dance. One day this week we came up with this picture. She draws most all of the time on her own, but this one day she wanted to combine our drawings into one scene. So, we each drew rabbits and she drew mice...then she wanted me to draw a fence...
Behind the fence she added a little girl with yellow hair peeking over it. Soon the little girl's mother showed up. The mother is much taller, of course. Granddaughter's green birds are flying past, a ball has been tossed in the air (it was going to be a bird, but it was too close to Mom's hair she said), and carrots (mine on the right, hers on the left) are enticing the bunnies.
I don't usually like to draw with a child, but sometimes, as long as you are not "showing them up" or instructing them in the proper form in the drawing, I think it is okay. I try to bow out as much as possible and let them take ownership of the work even finishing off what I've started.
I think we worked this cooperative picture quite successfully: she changed my bluebird (that is almost invisible now on the right) to green when it blended with sky, and she made a new "greenbird" friend for it right next to her sun; she increased the population of mice by adding to my one mouse, and she added green baby bunnies to join the other family. Our skies are blended and reworked blues. Best of all, we had fun and conversation while working on it. I'm happiest though, watching her quietly consider the blank paper and colored pencils, and how she announces what she is about to create.
Just wait until the next picture. Her people have suddenly grown full legs and no support stick below. How fascinating to see the stages of growth in her observations and art.
How many blessings can one day hold?
The Dictated Story as told to me:
(just the beginning...perhaps there will be more later)
There was a little girl with her mom.
And the little girl said, "Come here, come here!
I want you to see the bunnies and mice!"
************************
Coloring Days
Each sparkle day with
pencils and pen,
one after the other,
sprinkled again
with drawing
and singing,
all impromptu,
bitty ballerina dances
in sequined tutu.
Days pinwheel and swirl,
each blended yet whole
as hues are displayed
then ingrained in my soul.
by Donna JT Smith, 11/20/18
************************
And with that I urge you to go read more poetry today, be grateful, and eat some leftovers...
join more poetry friends for Poetry Friday at Live Your Poem where Irene Latham is hosting today.
I apologize for not being everywhere all the time, but soon I will be again. I catch moments of fleeting time and try to make sure I am still writing and posting, but not quite as regular as I usually am. I SHALL return. Please bear with me. These were all posts from my FB this week - apologies to those who have already read them. Again, freshness will resume soon!
4 year old grand daughter's ballerina drawing! Love her dress!
Stage
Wispy strains
of music afloat
softly call to
Butterflies
released from
fluttering inside.
Wings on her toes,
light as leaves
on a breeze,
She flows
leaping into their
flighted dance.
by Donna JT Smith
Homeward Bound
There are roads that take you somewhere, lanes for you to roam;
There are highways heading east and west, and some ways take you home.
Your eyes scan far horizons where road aligns with sky,
And then it dips away again before another high.
Sinuous and soothing go the ribbons through the fields,
And every stop amid the peace reminds our hearts to yield.
Hold the air, the soil, the sun - warmth before the cold;
And give way to the hurriers - they're only growing old.
The fact is roads are all the same: your way is meant to be -
For all the roads you travel on have home-bound scenery.
by Donna JT Smith, 10-15-18
Poem inspiration: - The first sighting of a rainbow by my 4 year old grand daughter one evening when the sun broke through before sunset after a day of rain. - Breathtaking both child and rainbow...
“I didn’t know those were real in real life! It’s the first one I ever
saw! It has all the beautiful colors! I want to look at this forever!” Though we didn’t get a good picture, she drew it the next morning.
Promise
When I see a rainbow,
That palette all revealed,
I'm fascinated how sun and rain
Keep mysteries concealed.
Do you remember the first you saw
And how it made you feel?
Remember being mesmerized
By colors arched surreal?
Oh, could that moment be recalled
Whe fantasy turned real,
And misty hues threw arms around
A world with God's own seal!
by Donna JT Smith
drawing by 4 year old granddaughter
It's Poetry Friday! Make a poem out of life today...
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.
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.
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.
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:
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!
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...
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.
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!
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
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!
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 16:11Thou 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.
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!
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.
I read Mary Lee Hahn's post today (and she is hosting!) where she has written a Blitz Poem. It was so intriguing, I had nothing ready for today, and I had some extra time (having gotten up a mere three hours after going to bed), so I decided to try one, too. I've not spent much time finessing this, so I'm sure there are cleverer ones to be written than this. But this was a good experiment in a Blitz Poem and I enjoyed my early hours this morning.
Patricia Weaver at Writer on a Horse
is hosting this "event", our Spiritual Thursday posts, today. So if
you are of a mind to read what others have to think and say about
anticipating their favorite "seasonal" stuff's return, head on over to
Pat's and click on a few links.
Sunset with a gull
Romans 8:25 - But if we hope for that we see not, [then] do we with patience wait for [it].
I am looking forward to the return of ALL the seasons, and ALL the
things that go with them. I should not be counting down, but there are
days when I think "How many more seasons of these roses will I enjoy?",
"How many more of this or that will there be?" And I think of my
husband's grandmother who lived to be 104, but had begun counting down
at about my age now, or a bit younger. She had 40 more years.
So I have determined not to think TOO much about that and just live a lot.
Psalms 39:7 - And now, Lord, what wait I for? my hope [is] in thee.
I wrote part of this on Wednesday night and got very busy with much stuff starting early this morning. And I apologize for not getting back or starting earlier to flesh it out. You know how it is when you have so much stuff you want to fit into a day, a week, a life... squeezing in the good stuff is important. Writing is important, too, but doing is more important if you only get to do one of those.
This has not a lot to do with the topic today, I just like it. I'm always trying to remember to ask boldly. 1 John 5:14 - And this is the confidence that we have in him, that, if we ask any thing according to his will, he heareth us:
