tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33131952972751592462024-03-13T22:48:52.353+11:00The Passionate Crone (poetry)Poems by Rosemary Nissen-Wade (aka SnakyPoet)Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.comBlogger1572125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-47397295420780932912018-02-07T04:35:00.002+11:002018-02-07T08:55:25.354+11:00My poetry is moving!And I don't mean emotionally, though I hope it is that too.<br />
<br />
I will leave this blog here as an archive, but future poems will be at <a href="https://enheduannasdaughter.blogspot.com.au/" target="_blank">"Enheduanna's daughter"</a>. If you want to follow that blog or subscribe by email, when you get there you'll need to click the small horizontal bars high on top left, so as to display the sidebar where you can make those arrangements.<br />
<br />
Why am I doing this? I struck a formatting glitch at "The Passionate Crone", which I can't fix. And maybe it's just time for a change anyway. (*Grin.*)<br />
<br />Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-879899421832589752018-02-06T13:03:00.002+11:002018-11-17T21:40:59.398+11:00Unanswered MessagesOh, what mystery there is in silence! The mind rushes in to fill the void with imaginings. You are no longer the dear you I think I knew before; you become an amorphous, shifting proliferation of possibilities. The human mind is hard-wired to attach meanings to all phenomena. So the absence of communication doesn't stay simply that; I make it mean this about me and that about you, many thises and thats. I make it mean that someone is wrong, someone is to be blamed. I did something wrong, therefore you don't communicate. Or your non-communication is you doing something wrong. Or maybe neither: perhaps circumstances are to blame. Perhaps your computer is broken, or lost, or stolen. Perhaps you are busy, or tired, or sick, or dead. Something is to blame, something is wrong. It cannot just be: a thing in itself. Nature doesn't abhor a vacuum nearly as much as that part of nature called the human mind does. <br />
<br />
the air turns cold <br />
after the sound of rain<br />
ceases<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>I came across this journal entry from some time ago – the prose piece – and thought it just needed a verse added to become a haibun.<br /><br />Linking to <a href="http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com.au/2018/02/the-tuesday-platform.html" target="_blank">The Tuesday Platform for Feb 6 2018</a> at "imaginary garden with real toads". I am shifting my (future) poetry to a new blog, which I did not anticipate when I posted this one. It seems kinda appropriate / ironic that the last one here is about unanswered messages, which might even be unread – so, by linking, I am making sure it is read!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-71829022275247734492018-02-02T17:18:00.000+11:002019-07-12T02:36:28.071+10:00A Ghazal On Whether the Beloved Is Aloof Or Touchy-Feely <div class="p1">
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">A ghazal, we are told, should be melancholy</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">with craving the Beloved. Heavens, what folly!</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">Who, then, is this elusive Beloved? Golly –</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">it seems that the longed-for one is the most holy.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">Yes, God. And who's that? A Santa, roly-poly?</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">Or a Jehovah, much less cuddly and jolly?</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">People seem to see God as masculine wholly,</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">whether that figure is Almighty or lowly.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">But let us consider this carefully and slowly.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">Perhaps as Great Mother we perceive Her truly.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">Then, do we crave hugs She might give to a dolly?</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">Do we hunger for the sweetness of a lolly?</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">I think She must be rather more than that, surely!</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">Nor would She separate Herself from us coolly.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">OK, I'll tell you the truth of it. (Or shall I?</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">Who of us knows the truth of anything fully?)</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">Nevertheless, I can make a sortie or sally.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">Know this: I was once with Hafiz. I was really.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">A seer told me this – and he was not merely</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">a charlatan, I promise. So you must rally.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">You must set your will to accept I see clearly.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">Poor Hafiz. In that life he was off his trolley!</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">He got it wrong about God. Well, it was early</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">in our understanding. Now we guess more nearly.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">It is true we've always known God loves us dearly.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">Therefore She will never depart from you, silly!</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">She is not trivial or fickle or frilly.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">Neither is the path to Her side steeply hilly.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">The one who tells you this is speaking truthfully </span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">from deep Remembrance ... if not strictly ghazaly.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">Written for dVerse "Meeting the Bar – <a href="https://dversepoets.com/2018/02/01/the-ghazal/">The Ghazal</a>".</span></i><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: serif;">I added a further constraint, rhyming every line rather than just every couplet. On the other hand, I ignored the refrain. However it's more un-ghazaly in mood than form. </span></i><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><br />
[Fellow-Aussies, please applaud me for having resisted working in "Up there, Cazaly!"]</span></i><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: serif;"><br />
After reading all the beautiful poems others have written to this prompt, I feel a bit ashamed. Perhaps I'll try a serious one too in the near future. (Though actually this one does have a serious message underneath the play.)</span></i><span style="color: black; font-size: 22.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</style>Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-75886010672400595132018-02-01T02:17:00.000+11:002018-02-01T08:11:17.815+11:00Wendy Rule's Concert, 31 Jan - 1 Feb 2018<div class="p1">
<i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">To Andrew</i></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">The full moon singer</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">live on my computer</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">is in America, next to a mountain.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">It's cold there. She is dressed</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">in warm black pants and jacket,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">red beret and hiking boots.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">She plans to see the dawn,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">she tells us, after her singing.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Here in Australia, it's midnight.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I'm still in sarong. The electric fans</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">are still blowing air around my living room.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">The sky outside is black with cloud.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Between songs, Wendy reminds us:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">the blue moon blood moon super moon,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Leo moon of creativity and sovereignty,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">is present though we cannot see.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">So are you, whom I also can't see</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">except in my mind. When<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">did you not celebrate full moon with me?</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">When did you not watch an eclipse</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">alongside me? When didn't we </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">attend Wendy's concerts together, here</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">on her visits to this our magical home</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">under our own mountain?</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I know your spirit is with me tonight</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">as she casts the circle. Here in the South<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">it's Lughnasadh, aka Lammas, a time<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">of early harvest. I gather up in thought<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">blessings that form my harvest, including<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">you and the times we had together.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">In the Northern half of the world it's Imbolc,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">beginning Spring: new life. And I renew.<br /><br /><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i>For <a href="http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com.au/2018/01/poet-united-midweek-motif-moon.html" target="_blank">Midweek Motif ~ Moon</a> at Poets United.</i></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<i>Musician Wendy Rule, an Australian now based in Santa Fe, is also a witch who casts circle at all her concerts. You can still find this one <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3hV9afGjxNE&feature=share" target="_blank">on YouTube</a>.</i></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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</style>Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-47315272252355351322018-01-28T15:23:00.001+11:002018-01-28T15:59:53.291+11:00Words of Power<div class="p1">
The man next door</div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">is beset by demons.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">When he's off his medication<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I hear him banging around</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">trying to fight them off.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">He always resorts at last<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">to his most potent curse</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">which he yells with grim intensity</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">and awesome courage: "Fuck off!"<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Judging by the sudden silence,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">it works. Then he switches on</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">his talkback radio, loud</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">enough to hold the spirit hordes</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">back beyond his walls:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">words from the outside world</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">making a noisy babble in his ears<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">to drown those other messages<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">only his ears can hear.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I have words for him too.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">"If you keep using my phone</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">or cadging milk and sugar,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I'll need you to pay." (Thinking,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">"I'm not your mother.") Now<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">he never speaks to me, which I prefer….</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">But he's in the right place. Every night </span><br />
<span class="s1">I send through the fence,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> like </span></span>lasers, </div>
<div class="p1">
the words "Light" and “Love".</div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<i><span class="s1">Magaly, in <a href="http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com.au/2018/01/weekend-mini-challenge-art-with-me.html" target="_blank">Art with Me</a> at "imaginary garden with real toads" says she believes words have power (I do too!) and that they can be a way towards healing (so do I!). She asks us to explore </span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #3d3d3c; text-align: justify;">"</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3d3d3c; text-align: justify;">o</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3d3d3c; text-align: justify;">ne or three (even thirteen) things you believe words can do for you and others"</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3d3d3c; text-align: justify;">. </span></span></i></div>
<div class="p1">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #3d3d3c; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></span></span></i></div>
Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-91632004327337744742018-01-26T11:46:00.000+11:002018-11-17T21:41:25.900+11:00"Plenty of Time Later," You Said<style type="text/css">
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<br />
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Dear, one day</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I might die,</span><span class="s1"></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">and most likely</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">(we could suppose)</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">before you do.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Such a thing</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">need not matter –</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">need not sound</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">the faintest bell</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">inside your mind.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Already you stop</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">the taking in</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">of my presence</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">in the world.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I am erased.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">The real erasure,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">when it happens,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">will be anti-climax.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">You are wise,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">are you not?</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<br />
<span class="s1"></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span></div>
Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-5159814897120619302018-01-21T22:29:00.000+11:002018-01-23T19:12:27.683+11:00How Do You Like Your Blue-Eyed Boy, Mister Death?<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Thank you, I like him fine.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Buffalo Bill will never<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">not be handsome now,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">and his prowess won’t deteriorate.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">And when I give him back</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">to the cradling earth again</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">– for I don’t get to keep them, you know –</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">dressed in a new body and sporting a new name</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">perhaps you’ll meet him once more, in a different dream </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">… </span><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">unless it is you </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I am holding then.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Unless it is you I lead by the hand</span><br />
to your new, true awakening….</div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /><br /><i>At "imaginary garden with real toads" Brendan asks us to "dance <a href="http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com.au/2018/01/weekend-challenge-play-tennis-with-ghost.html" target="_blank">with a ghost</a>", i.e. to respond to another poem. (Well no, it was to play tennis, but I prefer to dance.) <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47244/buffalo-bill-s" target="_blank">The original e. e. cummings poem</a> is one of my favourites – and hey, if someone's "defunct", they're really a ghost! (I have read the cummings poem bitterly in the past, identifying with the questioner. So in a way I am here talking to myself, using Death's voice to persuade myself of a different, kinder perspective.) <br /><br />The "different dream" is an allusion to the final passage of Kahlil Gibran's </i>The Prophet, <i>and in Death leading one by the hand I was recalling Sir Terry Pratchett's lovely <a href="http://time.com/3742565/terry-pratchetts-last-tweet-twitter/" target="_blank">posthumous tweet</a> (involving his fictional character, Death).</i></span></div>
Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-79074126521677664592018-01-20T23:35:00.001+11:002019-03-16T13:36:15.832+11:00Summer Evening<div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The heat cools to comfortably mild.</span></div>
<div>
I look out the front door</div>
<div>
and see, on the top step,</div>
<div>
my dear man taking the air</div>
<div>
in his chair on the landing.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Our pantherish old black cat, Levi,</div>
<div>
sprawls near him on the mat.</div>
<div>
Tortoiseshell Freya is curled up neatly </div>
<div>
close by on the second step.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And there's me. I am sitting </div>
<div>
on the top step, leaning back</div>
<div>
against the rails: positioned to see,</div>
<div>
talk to and touch all three....<br />
<br />
*********</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's five years ago and more. </div>
<div>
All of them are dead now.</div>
<div>
Even on such a pleasant evening</div>
<div>
I never sit, these days, on </div>
<div>
the front steps, enjoying the air.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Sharing at Poets United's Poetry Pantry #388.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Featured by Sherry at Poets United in <a href="https://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2019/02/poems-of-week-furry-feline-friends-we.html" target="_blank">Poems of the Week: Furry Feline Friends We Have Known and Loved,</a> along with poems by Toni Spencer and Susan Chast.</i><br />
<br /></div>
Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-42473898003606479642018-01-04T11:31:00.000+11:002018-11-17T21:42:06.850+11:00The Opening of Doors<div class="p1">
I usually barge right on through, and usually</div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">there is some light on the other side, even</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">when one might think I’d have done better</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">to leave that door shut. Sooner or later<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">there is always light – some – and<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>often</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">a late burst of unexpected brilliance … and</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">sometimes the door opens onto sustained</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">sunlight, and I need only enter and bask.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">And there are times when I’m just here,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">and a door opens to let someone else<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">come through, towards me, and that<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">can be sweet or exciting or possibly</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">nothing at all – but nothing demands nothing,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">which is restful; and so, one way or another,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I tend to like it when doors open: </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I tend to see it </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">as a good thing … for the most part, anyway.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Best of all is when doors become irrelevant:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">when, instead of traversing some boundary or</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">entry, some turning-point or edge, we rise</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">skyward, unfettered, on waves of pure thought:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">lifting into flight, cavorting on clouds, floating</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">and dancing in long arabesques, ethereal</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">pirouettes … which pleasure is encompassed</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">even better together, and so let our minds<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">entwine. Meet me in the middle of the air!</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><i>The final sentence is stolen from a Paul Kelly song based on the 23rd Psalm. This particular line, which he inserts into it, is by Kelly himself and not the psalmist – and has different connotations from those I give it here.</i></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><i>This poem was inspired by the <a href="http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com.au/2018/01/poets-united-midweek-motif-doorways.html" target="_blank">Doorway(s) </a>prompt at Poets United this week.</i></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span></div>
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</style>Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-55837365188156610392018-01-02T12:19:00.000+11:002018-01-13T08:09:07.481+11:00A Manifesto for the New Year<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I have not got the music</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">but I have the words.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I have not got the dance steps</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">but I have the words.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I have not got the numbers</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">but I have the words.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I have not got the science</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">but I have the words.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I do not have the lovers (any more)</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">but I (still) have the words.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I call out loudly with the words.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I throw my arms up and my head back,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">shouting the words triumphantly.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I whisper softly with the words,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">bending close to your secret ear</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">and breathing them,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">exhaling so lightly you can hardly feel –</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">but listen hard and you'll hear.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Sometimes I shout them in rage. And outrage.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Sometimes, I wish to whisper venom.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">The words are mine</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">to do with as I will.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">(God said so,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">who gave them to me at my birth.)</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I can make them sing,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I can make them dance.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I can make them count.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I can make them explain – if you will follow –</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">the secrets of the Universe.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I can make them bring back my lovers.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Yesterday is breaking up, falling away.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Yesterday is getting thrown out with the garbage.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">But the old words live on,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">unable to be entirely discarded.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Words have power. I call up the power</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">from deep inside. I call up the words</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">from where they too are anchored within.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I set them free. I let them loose.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Now I make them new, like seedlings, like cubs.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">They will play. They will grow. They will climb all over you.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><i>At 'imaginary garden with real toads', Bjorn invited us to write a <a href="http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com.au/2017/12/meet-2018-with-manifesto.html" target="_blank">manifesto for 2018.</a> I am not much for such things ... but then I watched Patti Smith on YouTube (who does have the music and the dance as well as the words) and </i></span><i>– in the mysterious way it happens – </i><i>suddenly became inspired.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Also sharing this at Poets United's Poetry Pantry #386</i></div>
<div class="p2">
<br />
<span class="s1"></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span></div>
Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-41327093454916485302017-12-31T08:00:00.002+11:002017-12-31T20:27:02.023+11:00Discovering Three Pratchetts Not Yet Read<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I'm sitting up in bed last thing at night</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">reading Terry Pratchett – one of my grand-</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">daughter's books, which I seized on with delight</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">when I discovered it so near at hand.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I’m visiting for Christmas. It's all right<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">that I'm in her space; she’s a good girl, and</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">is young enough to like the blow-up bed</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">she gets to use in the front room instead.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Or else she sleeps on a trundle mattress</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">in the study, but anyway I get<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">her room and her bed and – what happiness –</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">three books of hers by dear Terry Pratchett:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Sir Terry, whose name I shall always bless</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">for Discworld and its inhabitants – yet</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">this is tinged with some grief. Though they live on,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">their gently humorous author has gone.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">They are ‘young adult’ books, a genre I</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">often choose for its own sake anyway.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I may be regressed, but I don’t know why</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I need worry about that. Reading’s play</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">in my book (ha ha ha!) and I’m not shy</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">of admitting this. Could there be a day</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">without a book in it? No, not for me –</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">glad I’m still here, in bed with Terry P.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-converted-space" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-converted-space" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-converted-space" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i>Winding up the month (and year) with a final offering for the Poetic Asides<a href="http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wd-poetic-form-challenge-ottava-rima/comment-page-2#comment-3927468" target="_blank"> Ottava Rima Challenge</a>. <br /><br />I'm also sharing this with Poets United's <a href="http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com.au/2017/12/poetry-pantry-384.html" target="_blank">Poetry Pantry #384</a>, the first after our 2017 Christmas break.</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-converted-space" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span class="Apple-converted-space" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i>Happy New Year, dear readers!</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-converted-space" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span class="Apple-converted-space" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span></div>
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</style>Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-9190803230533098462017-12-30T06:34:00.004+11:002018-01-09T18:53:01.374+11:00The Roses I Post on Facebook<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">My hobby is to photograph roses.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I like to find them growing in gardens.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">The good God, whom we are told disposes</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">all things, knows how a heart sometimes hardens,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">therefore is using me (one supposes)</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">to remind others of love and pardons.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Each comes with a message, unique each day –</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">yet all the same really. 'Be Love,' they say.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">When I visit my family down south</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">in the temperate climes, I thrill to see</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">gardens full of roses. They spill and froth</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">and crowd and dance, and almost sing for me.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">(Or is it that songs burst from my own mouth</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">in my joy that so much beauty can be?)</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">At home I photograph roses for sale</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">in hot-housed bunches … but still beautiful.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">The words I add to these posts are simple</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">wishes for peace, for love, for happiness,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">for a bright day – nothing original.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Yet people cherish them, feel that they bless.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I do go into my heart for them all –</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">risking banality, seeking sweetness.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Whether they come from within or above,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">each message is really the same one: ‘Love!’</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><i>And again, an ottava rima for <a href="http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wd-poetic-form-challenge-ottava-rima" target="_blank">the form challenge at Poetic Asides</a>.</i></span><br />
<span class="s1"><i><br /></i></span>
<span class="s1"><i>Also shared with <a href="http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com.au/2018/01/tuesday-platform.html" target="_blank">The Tuesday Platform for 9 Jan. 2018</a> at "imaginary garden with real toads".</i></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span></div>
Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-62704255857048932732017-12-29T00:55:00.000+11:002019-07-12T02:36:51.947+10:00There's Nothing Now<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">There’s nothing now that I can do for you,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">and how it hurts my heart that this is so.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">My sky has darkened from its sunny blue</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">as I discern that yours is thick with snow.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I always held to what I knew was true –</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">only to wonder now if I did know.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">We were each other’s shelters once; that’s gone.</span><br />
Like swords: the cutting rain, the piercing sun.</div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /><br /><i>A combined ottava rima / ghazal, for the Poetic Asides <a href="http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wd-poetic-form-challenge-ottava-rima" target="_blank">ottava rima challenge.</a> (Or rather, a quasi-ghazal – since, among other things not present here, a ghazal should have at least five couplets ... whereas an ottava rima cannot have so many.)</i></span></div>
Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-17321475276319395562017-12-28T10:08:00.002+11:002018-01-21T21:27:57.566+11:00That Sentimental Place, the Past<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">She dreams of roses. Her father grew them</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">when she was a child, in all the colours</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">roses came in then. She remembers him</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">tending them closely. He would be outdoors</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">morning and evening, flexing his green thumb</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">(he hoped) outside his daily working hours,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">and longer on weekends. The hues and scents</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">he revelled in, she treasures … and laments.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i>Yet another ottava rima for the <a href="http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wd-poetic-form-challenge-ottava-rima" target="_blank">Poetic Asides form challenge</a><br /><br />Also shared with Poets United's <a href="http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com.au/2018/01/poetry-pantry-387.html" target="_blank">Poetry Pantry #387</a></i></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
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</style>Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-87363690791090367582017-12-28T07:55:00.002+11:002018-11-17T21:43:05.084+11:00On Going Within<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I speak into a void. He, Hermit, goes</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">so far into his cave, no-one can see</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">his lone attempts to heal his current woes.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I don’t know if he’s even hearing me;</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">he’s possibly so deep he never knows</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">that messages are sent at all. Will he</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">restore himself by hiding as in womb –</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">or does he pull around himself a tomb?</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i>Another ottava rima for the <a href="http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wd-poetic-form-challenge-ottava-rima" target="_blank">Poetic Asides form challenge</a></i></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><br /></span>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i>Sharing this (nearly a year later) with Poets United's Poetry Pantry #428</i></span></div>
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</style>Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-21466924776433288612017-12-27T10:23:00.001+11:002018-08-12T17:24:48.406+10:00Time Off<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i>for Julie</i></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><br /></span>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">She’s gardening, before the weather heats</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">as morning widens into brightest day;</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">before the dense humidity repeats</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">its everyday assault. Meanwhile I play</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">indoors with poetry, creating feats</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">of formal exercise – the kind I may</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">do seated: scanning metre, choosing rhymes,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">while she indulges in more physical pastimes.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">We’re both on holiday, and catching up</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">with things which called us in the busy year</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">but were perforce passed over. Now, to stop</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">does not mean inactivity. The dear</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">preferred preoccupations fill each cup</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">with our own versions of post-Christmas cheer.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">She brings me a tomato, tangy-sweet.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I try for poems good enough to eat.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><br /><i>Another ottava rima for the current <a href="http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wd-poetic-form-challenge-ottava-rima" target="_blank">Poetic Asides challenge</a>.<br />It came second!</i></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i>Also sharing with <a href="http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com.au/2018/01/the-tuesday-platform.html" target="_blank">The Tuesday Platform for 2 Jan 2018</a>, at 'imaginary garden with real toads'.</i></span></div>
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</style>Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-62742978029318188132017-12-26T15:45:00.002+11:002018-04-15T11:04:02.174+10:00And What If Light?<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">‘And what if light surrounds us like a song –</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">or what if we are made of singing light?</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">You cannot prove these propositions wrong,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">no more than I can prove that they are right.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Yet what if we had known it all along –</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">that light and music meld beyond sound/sight?</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">What difference might it make to you and I?</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Perhaps we’d live more lightly, perhaps fly.’</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">He whispered these reflections to the air,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">sending them out upon a rising breath –</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">then bent again to tend the garden, where</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">beneath the plaques folk rested in their death.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">A woman came towards him, crying, ‘There</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">is where I want my dears, in solid earth</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">where I can come and talk to them and pray.’</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Her tread was heavy as she moved away.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Around the grave-beds, grasses, flowers and trees</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">firm-anchored in the soil, while stretching high</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">into the air, moved slightly in a breeze</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">as if they danced – as if they’d almost fly.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Wind in the leaves made soft noise; humming bees</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">thronged the flowers. The sun rose in the sky.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">The insects and the birds moved through the day,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">uncaring of what he and she might say.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<i>Another ottava rima for the <a href="http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wd-poetic-form-challenge-ottava-rima" target="_blank">Poetic Asides form challenge</a></i>.<br />
<i>Also shared at the latest <a href="http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com.au/2017/12/the-tuesday-platform_26.html" target="_blank">Tuesday Platform</a>, for 'imaginary garden with real toads'.</i></div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
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</style>Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-9347861630005151752017-12-26T11:21:00.000+11:002018-02-12T12:42:00.933+11:00Un-Scrooging<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">It’s Christmas time, and I do not believe</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">in all that crass, commercial carry-on.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I like to give. Most focus on ‘receive’</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">this time of year. The feasting, though, is fun.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I did that twice, the first on Christmas Eve;</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">then Christmas Day we fronted up again.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I must confess, the presents that I got</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">are great. ‘Bah, humbug!’ doesn’t hit the spot.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I had good conversations. One young man</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">regaled me with his fishing expertise;</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I matched him catch for catch and line for line,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">our heads together half the evening. He’s</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">a schoolboy, still a youth of just sixteen,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">while I am far into my seventies,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">and yet we found such happy common ground</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">each counts the other now as a new friend.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">On Christmas Day we dined with son’s old mates</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">(several I have known since they were small).</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">The hours of well-spaced courses, fun debates</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">with smart, like-minded people did not pall –</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">music, movies, books, fish, cheese, desserts …</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">we rose reluctantly as evening fell,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">and drove home peaceful, happy and replete.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">So now, goodwill to all! My life is sweet.</span><br />
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<span class="s1"><i>Another ottava rima for the <a href="http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wd-poetic-form-challenge-ottava-rima" target="_blank">Poetic Asides challenge.</a><br /><br /><u>Later</u>: Although it is now far past Christmas (February, in fact) I am sharing this one with Poets United's <a href="http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com.au/2018/02/poetry-pantry-390.html" target="_blank">Poetry Pantry #390</a></i></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
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</style>Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-79217770119103906272017-12-24T23:45:00.003+11:002017-12-26T11:25:16.343+11:00Secretly Super<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">These copper cuffs that ornament each wrist</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">are solid copper, not mere coated tin.</span><span class="s1"></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I trust that my arthritis may desist</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">as this good metal swiftly does it in.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">And look – they also help me to resist</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">all evil, crime, wrongdoing, error, sin.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Raising my crossed arms like Wonder Woman</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">deflecting bullets, I’m an Amazon!</span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><br /></span>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span id="goog_879942910"></span><span id="goog_879942911"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i><br /></i></span>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i>Another for the <a href="http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wd-poetic-form-challenge-ottava-rima" target="_blank">Ottava Rima challenge</a> at Poetic Asides</i></span></div>
<div class="p1">
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</style>Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-61723369572269917182017-12-24T13:50:00.001+11:002018-11-17T21:43:30.511+11:00Prodigal Friend<div class="p1">
I had not looked for him these many years.</div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">It seemed I must resign myself to fate.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Despite a sense of loss, there were no tears,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">and certainly no reason to await</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">a reappearance. No-one reappears –</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">do they? – after such a lengthy absence,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">such an unrelieved and total silence.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Yet here he is, with thanks upon his tongue</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">for all the truth we shared a decade past –</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">and suddenly I’m roused, as after long</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">and peaceful slumber, opening eyes at last ...</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">awakening to dawn and daylight, song</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">of early birds crescendoing, and vast</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">blue skies unfolding to the spreading sun.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><i>Written for the <a href="http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wd-poetic-form-challenge-ottava-rima" target="_blank">Ottava Rima challenge</a> at Poetic Asides</i></span><br />
<span class="s1"><i><br /></i></span><span class="s1"><i>(12 Aug 2018) I've just removed first and last lines, which were banal and unnecessary, so it's no longer a proper Ottava Rima; maybe I could label it a truncated one.</i></span><br />
<span class="s1"><i><br /></i></span>
<span class="s1"><i>(Oct. 2018) Also linked to Poets United's <a href="http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2018/10/poetry-pantry-423.html" target="_blank">Poetry Pantry #423</a></i></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><i><br /></i></span></div>
Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-2863908791952778332017-12-23T18:00:00.001+11:002017-12-24T11:50:02.610+11:00A Masterpiece Takes Time<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">My son and grand-daughter</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">are making gingerbread,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">wearing matching aprons.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Crisis: </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">unsalted butter left out</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">went soft – but they find enough.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">When mixed, </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">the dough must go in the fridge</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">three hours – like short crust, </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">they say.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">They tell me the ingredients:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">things I can’t eat, </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">but they’ll give me</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">a tiny piece. After all, </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">it's Christmas</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The next item mustn’t </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">be added </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">until the last is measured.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">‘Mix slowly into the wet stuff.’</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">The beaters whirr and grind.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">A knife </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">scrapes a spoon. I hear</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">deliberations, and </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">laughter.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">expect to enjoy my taste when I get it.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span class="s1"><i>At 'imaginary garden with real toads' Gillena invited us to write on the theme 'SLOWLY' in only 100 words. And then, fortuitously, this gingerbread-making began. </i></span><i>And here is a sample of the finished product, later:</i><br />
<span class="s1"><i><br /></i></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yd256xUlloU/Wj73kzONdVI/AAAAAAAA9_Q/c7T4P8hC7CstiFIoTJhVn4jj2RNreh0awCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_6900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="585" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yd256xUlloU/Wj73kzONdVI/AAAAAAAA9_Q/c7T4P8hC7CstiFIoTJhVn4jj2RNreh0awCEwYBhgL/s400/IMG_6900.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<span class="s1"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span></div>
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</style>Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-38180739191891536912017-12-22T23:08:00.000+11:002018-02-21T00:33:31.065+11:00‘May the Road Rise to Meet You,’ I Said, and She Said: <div class="p1">
<span class="s1">What does that mean? I feel like </span><br />
<span class="s1">I just<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span>climbed a mountain.</div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">What you want from me?</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I don’t wanna climb anymore …</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">can’t I just walk downhill please,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">to the next flower maybe?</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">May the road be winding and wonderful</span><span class="s1">! </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">(Feels like a tightrope </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">at </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">the moment.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">T</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">alk about straight and narrow.)</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><i>Found poem: found in a comment on one of my facebook posts. I couldn't resist shaping it into the poem I thought it wanted to be.</i></span><br />
<span class="s1"><i><br /></i></span>
<i><u>Later</u>: Linking to <a href="http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com.au/2018/02/the-tuesday-platform_20.html" target="_blank">The Tuesday Platform for 20 Feb. 2018</a> at "imaginary garden with real toads".</i></div>
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</style>Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-64663047983604446392017-12-22T10:34:00.000+11:002017-12-22T12:17:08.155+11:00Random<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Letting the pen flow</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">any old where across the mind</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">(you thought I’d say ‘page’, but</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">no, it’s the mind that the pen</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">– my pen – traverses at</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">random) I find myself</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">in glades of light, filtering</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">through tall, leafy trees –</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">in this country, we don’t</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">do deciduous, and anyway,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">now is summer, and we feast</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">on and in the sunlit green.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Or I find myself (at</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">the tip of my flowing pen)</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">in deep, dark caves, which</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">nevertheless spell ‘home’, being</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">womb-like. Or else I wander</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">to a phone-call from a brother,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">wishing me Happy Solstice.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">(Will you fly? he asks.) </span><br />
I like the randomness of things,</div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">of scribbling, though we pretend</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">there is order and reason. Ha!</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">My pen knows better. And my mind.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<i><span class="s1">Written in response to a prompt from Karin Gustafson at 'imaginary garden with real toads', </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><a href="http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com.au/2017/12/writing-exercise-for-days-of-little.html" target="_blank">Writing Exercise (For Days of Little Time/ No Muse)</a> </span>in which we are asked to think of a letter, then a word, and go-go-go. </i><br />
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span></div>
Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-24230705261344631962017-12-18T17:36:00.000+11:002018-01-31T01:38:21.409+11:00Early and Late<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Initially, passion shocked<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">my mouth open,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">made my toes<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">curl tight, uncurl….</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Finally, your touch</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">in its lack</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">chills my skin,</span><br />
slows my blood.</div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><i>A belated attempt to respond to the recent prompt, <a href="http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com.au/2017/12/micro-poetry-fire-and-ice.html" target="_blank">Micro Poetry ~ Fire and Ice</a>, at 'imaginary garden with real toads'. </i></span><br />
<span class="s1"><i>Also written for <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/737992472942351/" target="_blank">THE POETRY OF THREE, Three Words Per Line</a> on facebook. </i></span><br />
<span class="s1"><i>And linked to <a href="http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com.au/2018/01/the-tuesday-platform_30.html" target="_blank">The Tuesday Platform</a> for 30 Jan. 2018 at "imaginary garden with real toads".</i></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3313195297275159246.post-12326658101090638722017-12-03T07:58:00.000+11:002017-12-22T10:57:54.452+11:00January Moments<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background: rgb(255, 233, 236); color: black;">In my dark garden</span><span style="color: black;"><br />
<span style="background: #FFE9EC;">wind chimes clang faintly, I breathe</span><br />
<span style="background: #FFE9EC;">the smell of the sea.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: #ffe9ec;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #ffe9ec;">Steamy nights</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: #FFE9EC;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
on this tree-thick hill;<br />
my grey cat </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">sits silent </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: #FFE9EC;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">on the top step, keeping guard</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: #FFE9EC;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
while we toss in heat.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Like my cats</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
<span style="background: #FFE9EC;">the plants are very still</span><br />
<span style="background: #FFE9EC;">this hot morning.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: #FFE9EC;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
<span style="background: #FFE9EC;">The heat revs up</span><br />
<span style="background: #FFE9EC;">as the morning brightens.</span><br />
<span style="background: #FFE9EC;">What time today</span><br />
<span style="background: #FFE9EC;">will humid rains kick in?</span><br />
<span style="background: #FFE9EC;">Summer at full throttle.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: #FFE9EC;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">Downpour.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: #FFE9EC;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">At last a bud</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">on the rosebush.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Quiet –</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">the rain pauses</span><br /><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">waiting.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="background: #FFE9EC;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="background: #FFE9EC;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="background: rgb(255, 233, 236);"><i>Trying to come up with a poem for the new year, and uninspired, I looked through several years of micropoetry written in January, selected one from each year (with a bit of tweaking to some, on seeing them anew) and found that they could be read as a sequence. </i></span></span></div>
Rosemary Nissen-Wadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05913841031559499568noreply@blogger.com4