Author: Maria Johnson

We all need a love poem now and again

[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]
BY E. E. CUMMINGS

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

a simple prayer

 

20140404-063849.jpgI recently had a conversation with friends over a beer or two. It was a delightful afternoon full of laughter and insights. One of the topics that came up was about using social media. My friend said that she often prayed through her news feed, stopping to offer brief prayers even when there was no request for prayers. Especially, she said, when there was no request for prayers.

It got me thinking about how quick I am to repost the silly, wasteful cat memes instead of looking for something a little more edifying. About how quick I am to let loose with my tongue or my pen keyboard instead of thinking before responding. For today, I’m going to make this pretty reminder, which I swiped, naturally, from a social media site, my prayer.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Reflection

 

This week’s photo challenge intrigued me. I knew right away I wanted to do it, but time, and inspiration, and frankly, a picture, kept me waiting for the right moment.

reflectionI finally got it this afternoon. I live by a small lake, so the easy photo was to take a little walk down there and see what the water was reflecting. I love those kinds of pictures, but I took to heart the other part of the challenge, to see a little into my soul and wonder what it reflects.

If nothing else, the challenge had me pondering this throughout the week. I think we don’t ponder things enough. Our microwave-hurry-up-ding-fries-are-done mindset doesn’t make time for that essential need.

So I pondered. Reflected, if you will.

 

The picture above is a reflection of the top of a tree on a very small, thin puddle on my patio. I took the picture right side up, but the tree is reflected upside down. Like an old style photograph view finder.

Here’s the thing, I know it’s a tree, but it looks like a root system. I’ve been thinking about this all day. What is my root system? What is my foundation?

And is it reflected in my bearing?

 

 

 

 

Refrigerator poem

Did you ever play with the little box full of words on magnetic strips?

There’s an app for that.

Enjoy.

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celebrating World Poetry Day and other good things

flowerWell, imagine that. In a world filled with celebrations of Twinkie Day and Hug Your Bestfriend Day, and National Cheese Ball Day, today happens to have a few special commemorations.

It’s World Down Syndrome Day, which in the scope of things that are important, well, I’d place this ahead of the rest. I’d rather hug a kid, with or without Down Syndrome, than, for example, hug a tree (it also happens to be International Day of Forests and the Tree – how’s that for a name?).

Anyway, as I was saying, I’d rather hug a kid — and it will be a great day indeed, when all we see is a kid, a person, without any qualifiers at all, whether it’s the color of his skin, or the language he speaks, or the number of chromosomes she has, or all, or neither. A little bit of education goes a long way. I know.

So, on this day, celebrating people, trees, and poems, I invite you to read some of my poetry. It’s all out there…just select the blog category to the right of this post. So easy: choose POEMS.

Cuz it’s World Poetry Day. So I’ll leave you with a wonderful poem by Edith Sitwell, a better poet than I’ll ever be, and perfect for a Friday in Lent:

Still Falls the Rain

Still falls the Rain—
Dark as the world of man, black as our loss—
Blind as the nineteen hundred and forty nails
Upon the Cross.

Still falls the Rain
With a sound like the pulse of the heart that is changed to the hammer-beat
In the Potter’s Field, and the sound of the impious feet

On the Tomb:
Still falls the Rain

In the Field of Blood where the small hopes breed and the human brain
Nurtures its greed, that worm with the brow of Cain.

Still falls the Rain
At the feet of the Starved Man hung upon the Cross.
Christ that each day, each night, nails there, have mercy on us—
On Dives and on Lazarus:
Under the Rain the sore and the gold are as one.

Still falls the Rain—
Still falls the Blood from the Starved Man’s wounded Side:
He bears in His Heart all wounds,—those of the light that died,
The last faint spark
In the self-murdered heart, the wounds of the sad uncomprehending dark,
The wounds of the baited bear—
The blind and weeping bear whom the keepers beat
On his helpless flesh… the tears of the hunted hare.

Still falls the Rain—
Then— O Ile leape up to my God: who pulles me doune—
See, see where Christ’s blood streames in the firmament:
It flows from the Brow we nailed upon the tree

Deep to the dying, to the thirsting heart
That holds the fires of the world,—dark-smirched with pain
As Caesar’s laurel crown.

Then sounds the voice of One who like the heart of man
Was once a child who among beasts has lain—
“Still do I love, still shed my innocent light, my Blood, for thee.”

 

can’t get enough cowbell? for you!

I don’t even like Christopher Walken, but this just might change my mind.

At least it isn’t that other guy.