Day 8: I, of the Grain—a quatern published in The Rat's Ass Review #NaPoWriMo #NationalPoetryMonth

Demeter, Copyright 2013-2014 HoneyJadeCrab from DeviantArt

Happy to announce that on this Day 8 of National Poetry Month, my quatern about Demeter, goddess of the harvest, entitled I, of the Grain has been published in The Rat's Ass Review. Many thanks to Roderick Bates for selecting it. You can read it here!

Demeter is the food bringer, the law bearer, the mark of agriculture upon civilized society. She's not to be trifled with. She is in charge. I imagine her as a goddess who provides swift punishment if her strict rules are not carried out to her exacting specifications. Don't bite the hand that feeds you.

A quatern is a French form with a refrain. 16 lines of 4 quatrains. Each line is 8 syllables. The first line serves as the refrain and migrates to the second line in the second quatrain, the third in the third, and the fourth and last line in the fourth. There are no particular rules for rhyme or meter. Play with it, and post your results in the comments section so I too can enjoy the fruits of your labor!

Day 7: Order Up! —#NaPoWriMo #30in30 #NationalPoetryMonth

Mr. Breakfast Face

There is some ridiculously delightful pancake art out there.  So many faces! Some are intentional like this lovely Mr. Breakfast Face here. Others evidently are crafted to perfection through divine intervention, like when Jesus' face made an appearance on a California pancake (and also a piece of naan at a curry house in Essex. He gets around.)

This all got me thinking about what kind of pancake I would be, if I were so lucky.

Order Up!

I am a pancake in need of frequent flipping.
Leave me to cook too long and I 
burn and harden on one side
and remain soft and raw on the other.
With the proper amount of attention
I don't need buttering up.
I don't need any syrup.

Day 4: Fickle Tease—my thoughts on April #NaPoWriMo #NationalPoetryMonth

Salmon River Hike

In T.S. Eliot's "The Wasteland," Eliot famously called April "the cruelest month." This might seem unfair to some, but I think it's spot-on. You can be cruel without knowing it. The NaPoWriMo Day 4 challenge is "to write a poem in which you explore what you think is the cruelest month, and why." I'm all too happy to explain it to you.

April can be gorgeous. Just look at these pictures from a hike I just took with friends near Mt. Hood. How can I not be seduced by the power vested in spring? Oh, but April can be flighty and capricious! Difficult for me to accept and understand. And I won't even talk about taxes. What a let-down!

A trickle

Fickle Tease

April stinks of dirt and wet dogs
leaves blossoms on the ground like used gym shorts

April is too young to show his colors
to bleed petals and face all that the wind has in store 

April needs a hand to hold to tease
he doesn't yet understand his orientation

April texts you madly
then goes quiet

April says he'll be right over you take your clothes off and wait—
he doesn't show up

What's your "cruelest month?" Why? Share in the comments.

shed no drop of blood— published in NonBinary Review, The Zoetic Press Journal of Literature #BirdieSanders

#BirdieSanders

All leaders have known this for millennia:  there is skill in battle. (Just ask millennials.) Subtle nuance can propel a cause and fuel a movement or sink a campaign. Just talk with Howard Dean about his scream. Or ask Mitt Romney, "Who let the dogs out?"

I was thinking of this when I wrote a poem inspired by Sun Tsu's The Art of War, recently published in NonBinary Review.

Sun Tsu, the elusive military expert whose work has influenced diverse leaders ranging from Douglas MacArthur to Mao Zedong, explains the importance of  recognizing strategic opportunities.

In his fourth chapter, Sun Tsu focuses on dispositional tactics and shares a path in which true leaders avoid creating opportunities for their opponent. This requires reserve, strength of character, and the ability to pause and reflect.

Today, I could not help but notice that Bernie Sanders was awarded a strategic opportunity that landed on his podium and commanded the attention of the Moda Center and the world.

Here's the poem I wrote, entitled shed no drop of blood. Grateful to Lise Quintana and Ali Marini for publishing it.

Nesting Dolls—featured at Mothers Always Write

The original matryoshka set by Zvyozdochkin and Malyutin, 1892

I'm grateful to Mothers Always Write for publishing my poem "Nesting Dolls" today. It's my reflection on all that parenthood contains as well as its outgrowths. Please check it out here and then explore the site. It's filled with meaningful accounts of what it is to be a mother from a talented assembly of writers.

Runoff—a poem featured in The Gorge Literary Journal

Me and my son enjoying Hood River.

Time is slippery. We can't grasp it, will it to speed up, or force it to slow down. My son is now 6 feet tall and 14 years older than when this picture was taken. While I enjoyed that day and many others like it, I remember how slowly the hours crawled by when my children were in diapers. That the years have hauled ass in comparison makes no mathematical sense, but is a concrete fact, nevertheless.

Once my son was dependent upon me for everything, and he didn't mind it in the least. Now he's dependent upon us for much, and it irritates him to fess up and admit it. This is only natural and good. I would worry if he seemed content being waited upon. He neither needs nor wants hand-holding now. He often makes it clear that he'd prefer if I made myself scarce. I thank him for his honesty, tell him that I believe him, and also softly suggest that while this may be the whole truth of the moment, it may not paint a picture that accurately characterizes our entire evolving timeline. Occasionally he still needs me. Sometimes he still likes me around. And, perhaps as important, I depend upon him and am grateful each day that he is part of this world. With time and maturity, I imagine he will come to see these factors as self-evident. Wondrous, even. I have.

I wrote a poem reflecting on the circuitous route we take towards and away from our family. And back again. Many thanks to Julie Hatfield and John Metta at The Gorge Literary Journal for publishing it. You can read "Runoff" here.

Drunken cinquain for the Kentucky Derby

Trigger warning: vegetarians, humor alert!


after
two mint juleps
American Pharaoh
would be downright yummy in a
burgoo

So strange that a gorgeous animal such as this would be sponsored by Yum! Corporation. V. Espinoza looks tasty, too. In a polka dot kind of way.