mermaidcamp
Keeping current in wellness, in and out of the water
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During the exciting and educational April #NaPoWriMo I managed to kick out 30 poems in 30 days. I will follow the poets I met because they make my days richer with only short bursts of time invested. I can read a poem for a minute or two and ponder it forever. I love the community that develops around the special poetry writing month and plan to keep my connection to it. I have learned that the process of writing poems is therapeutic . While engaged in poetic efforts I happened to digitally meet new people who are as interesting to me as the poets. Much to my surprise, my niche geek group, family history freaks, is alive and meeting regularly to share data and support.
This new group found me, or I found it on Facebook. New England Family Genealogy and History is a special interest group for those of us who study these subjects. I am delighted to find people as obsessed with history as I am. Some of them still carry the Mayflower pilgrim family names. There have been wonderful pictures and stories posted in which I have identified members as having common ancestors. This is a full time party of like minded genealogy freaks I can join on line any time. Be still my heart! People who have much more direct information and verification are there to help anyone with inquiries. The first ancestor I found I had in common with other members was my famous poet, Ann Dudley Bradstreet, who may be my favorite ancestor of all. In a few weeks I have met others with whom I share different progenitors. A recent discussion revealed that others share perhaps Native ancestry. Like me, few can definitively prove a connection to a tribe.
Some of the active participants are professional genealogists or family archivists of large collections. Plenty are DAR and Mayflower Society members. Many live in New England now and are connected to local societies for the preservation of everything under the sun. I enjoy learning about some of the old buildings that have stayed in family hands for hundreds of years. I feel a tinge of jealousy when they go off to Providence to a genealogy convention for the weekend. Then I remember that to live in New England one must endure snow and other unpleasantries. I may return to Cape Cod and Rhode Island on a history hunt one day. For now I am very pleased to be in touch with history fans who share interest, passion, and loads of information about New England and the people who have lived there. I can digitally visit every day. You can too if New England History is an interest of yours.
Early years fill with nursery rhymes, stories designed to teach
Suspended between fictional characters dialog is made to preach
Current popular opinion, political outrage hidden between the lines
The villain and the hero match wits whilst the wicked witch opines
These morality plays change very little with the passage of time
Forces of good conquer evil and the story is set to rhyme
When you meet a character who comes straight from Mother Goose
You have discovered archetypal imagery that will help you to deduce
If you are the victim or the hero, the popular victor or the slimy creep
We all have parts to play, ego hiding under shadowy cover of sleep
The poetry train has almost arrived at the destination…May. Hop aboard for a poetic ride here.
Windows of stained glass, gothic arches reaching down from heaven
Contain secret hiding places from which to see the world in procession
Between clouds and stars light years have passed uncounted, forgotten
Pathways of comets, trails of meteors falling to earth, and fools misbegotten
Bright illumination shines through the veils, the curtain, and the hidden door
While multitudes enrolled in rival schools of thought collapse into war
Youth, athletic performance, strength have become the peak obsession,
Playing games is a metaphor when competition is the prize possession
Poets and poetry are celebrated during the month of April here. Enjoy reading writing and reciting!!!
On stage alone declaring how holy is everything
Drama and grit in bohemian glory, unafraid, uncensored
Blazing through the living backwoods of words, bongos,
Coffeehouse in some village overflowing with reform
Of letters, of institutions, of all the powers who regulate
On fat asses that be in charge of declinations that articulate
Judgements for society not listening, nor daring to perform
Shocking truthful rage behind the masks worn as uniforms
Marching single file, lost in the mass shuffle of minds in thought
Keep the beat, a tribute to those poets who knew not what they taught
Ride the poetry train in April by boarding here. Enjoy reading writing and listening to diverse poets and beatnik bards.
Arcs of time and industry ebb and flow with innovating thrills
Cabinets filled with medicine bottles offering colored pills
Return the reflection with irony and mysterious vague glance
Rusting in the basement of chance, iron predators sing and dance
After thought of swimming in polluted water to the ship of rules
Most of the company parted in haste to avoid the jeering ghouls
Manufactured waste, canyons created by exhausted greedy souls
Sharply cut into the landscape, drill deeper holes, impossible goals
Ride the poetry train in April by reading, writing and hearing more poetry. Find new poets to enjoy here.
I began eating large quantities of corn tortillas about 40 years ago and will never stop
My parents drove all over Mexico with the family when I was a teenager
They were great lovers of restaurants, especially in Mazatlán, where we spent summers
We preferred corn to flour tortillas, although we knew nothing about gluten
Chips, enchiladas, tamales, tostadas and endless tacos have made me extremely happy
It is important to pace yourself with corn because the masa expands after it is eaten
tacos de papa
If you have the chance to eat fresh hand made corn tortillas, jump at it
Salsa, the right mix of chiles for the moment, completes the fun flavor fiesta
Buen provecho!
Ride the poetry train this month by clicking here. Read, write, eat and drink poetry this April.
Water finds the way to flow around and over any obstacle encountered
Vertical drop, narrow banks of rocky cliffs send a river splashing downward
Like the River Rhone flows through the Lake of Geneva, energy remains
The signature of rushing liquid communicating exactly like the rains
Falling from the heavens, moving mountains, shaking boulders free
Direction has not been questioned because every drop is heading to the sea
Enjoy the creativity available all during the month of April here. Ride the poetry train to deepen your understanding and appreciation of art and life.
Compressed and coiled to rise with great jubilant recital
Those words never uttered, thoughts buried, smothered, smoldering
Cascades of songs and tributes to romance obscured in shadow
Leaving impressions too faint to be heard or interpreted by strangers
Wound around old wounds and spinning in familiar territory
Grace slowly unwinds the layers of crusades and causes
To reveal a universal storm of color, thunder and lightening
Enjoy the creative work of all kinds of poets during the month of April here. Find new creativity by writing one of your own. It is therapy for the inner you. Everyone has a poet within.
Makers of envy and avarice, green paper creatures
Faces of national heroes serve to guard their values
Internalized between agreements, overexposed features
Images of past betrayal written across the centuries
Imitation freedom, a state of restraint, a wicked teacher
Between imagined fantasy and all too vivid toxic misery
What kind of advantage is gained by digging deeper?
Is there an alternative to repeating the worst of history?
Check the daily poetic action here, or follow the hashtag #NaPoWriMo. Join the fun and ride the poetry train all month in April.
Bright stars illuminate passages between treachery and glory,
At dawn some of the possibilities scatter across the sky
Others stay hidden beneath the shade of an obvious story
Painted lights on party patios strung between truth and lie
There is danger passing through the desert without insight or guidance
Patrons of progress and development sow dusty seeds of convenience
Remnants of culture, scraps of common purpose shattered in the process