mermaidcamp
Keeping current in wellness, in and out of the water
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Does the conversation turn to dust in a can of ancient fish sauce
When originality is mentioned? Why can we not agree that diversity is fun?
The water was left running in the kitchen, sink overflowing, food floating
Into the back yard, over the fences, drifting into pieces as it scattered
The hungry mass of humanity was washed away to sea on a lump of sugar
Still retaining the sweetness of the last big stadium event we witnessed
Watching, unable to save the system as it collapses, we break for lunch
I have a hunch this picture is just a shadow of the future chaos in store
If we listen with concentration there is a sound of the ocean’s roar
Visit the #NaPoWriMo site to discover new poets around the world. April is the month to celebrate poetry.
Wake and take in the surroundings, sift them through a fine sieve
Look for the truth as it encompasses the conversation and the will
Harmony and dissonance find places in the choir, singing praise and doubt
Words without meaning come pouring out of mouths fed with rhetoric
No thinking behind the listless existence slumping along the time line
History will remember how complicated and yet how vapid we have been
Preening our personal images and treasuries for self sustenance
We fail to notice that everything is connected to everything, us included
Tragic environmental horrors are being concocted to torture the future
While we wait for somebody else to be present and stay present in this instant
The poetry party is rolling across the internet in April. Join the fun by submitting a poem, attending a local event, or just reading something new. Find out how to participate at #NaPoWriMo. You may find out that you are a poet!!!
If we revolve around our sun and some suns revolve around Saturn,
Where is the middle of the orbit? Does it change when the air is colder?
Is there a reason for the shapes we use for surrounding our central theme?
Does anyone know the prompt for today? Is it rhyme or reason?
I believe at the end of any season the harvest of jewels pours forth
On the owners and on the interlopers who arrive when the piñata breaks
Join Poets around the world each day in April for #NaPoWriMo. Find joy and words here.
The journey on this train takes place in the dark, starlit cabins full of images
Rush through the night collecting emotions, memories, deeper instincts
Collecting these soul-shaper consciousness experiences into words takes place
In the dining car over tea and coffee in the morning, and in the lounge all day
Poets sit in silence to straighten out the prose that spills onto the pages
Comparison is healthy, normal, and confusing as each work grows into itself
The train is full of poets yet each one of us has a different destination and fate
In prompts, styles, discussions and reverie we join in a common mission
To bring forth the poetry that only we as poets can bring up from the mine
History holds poets and potters in high regard, finding all the meaning
Of civilization in broken ceramic chards and discarded recorded words
The poetry train departed the station 1 April and will travel non stop until 1 May. Join the fun at #NaPoWriMo by submitting your own work or finding new poets to enjoy.
Falling skyward into dream state fairy tale diving deeply
Horror of afterlife/formerlife/continuum takes wings
Unfurling from a tightly fitting sarcophagus wrapped in grace
Signing in to the drifting tide of shifting sands and secrets
The scene is altered when the clouds obscure the day’s sunlight
Lifting shadow into the focus, draping foggy memory with darkness
Long forgotten history influences the way we see past as ladder to future
Much myth surrounds the way we imagine change without effort or will
Down to go up, a bouncing rebound, is the way to the center of things
Perpetual notions of shadow and light require motion as well as presence
What is the hieroglyph that will represent this present moment in time?
Ride the poetry train this April at #NaPoWriMo. 30 poems in 30 days
Work is tangled between disordered sheets of paper covering a desk
Trapped in envelopes and receipts the drugery
Takes time to unravel, the benefits illusory
Piles of time seated in one place stuck firmly to slavery grotesque
Punching an invisible time clock, the hours drain slowly as we recheck
The mission we set out to accomplish which has dissolved into tomfoolery
Does each worker, in a separate way, discover workplace dysfunction peculiarly?
Our ancestors toiled in primitive times, without electicity, running water, or tech
What is the goal of work today as we compare it to history?
We live to work, not work to live, and thus rob ourselves of mystery
Ride the poetry train all month in April to enjoy the work of poets everywhere. Find #NaPoWriMo participants here. I encourage you to find new work you like.
Today is World Poetry Day, so twitter is all aflutter with haiku. UNESCO is running a thread for pros and amateurs to enter the fun using the hashtag #tweetku.
There are some funny and inspiring poems flying around, and we see coffee houses where they are accepting poems for payment today. This celebration has grown and become more popular since last year. I urge you to join the creative fun, even if you are not feeling very poetic at this moment. Read some of the other tweets for inspiration or just to tickle your funny bone. I know that we are all poets because I write a poem each day for poetry month in April for #NaPoWriMo. I have no particular talent or style, but after 30 days of poetry I feel very accomplished and more creative. I use original art or photography on my April poems to make them a little more interesting. The important part is the practice rather than the poems themselves. I am hoping to expand my subject matter again this year. My first year was way too drippy, all about spirit, dreams, and tinkle tinkle reality..pretty dull and one dimensional. Last year I did some new topics like my ancestor’s beheading at the Tower of London. The art and the poem were infantile, but I did give it a whirl. Practice does not really make perfect in my case, but it does make psychological inroads into my own thinking and ability to write. I am warming up for next month today:
Here is one I love, with a little pun:
https://twitter.com/BarvanderVossen/status/711979640378826753
Let the poet in you loose on the town today..or at least read some.
James Oscar Byrne (1840 – 1879)
2nd great-grandfather
Sarah Helena Byrne (1878 – 1962)
daughter of James Oscar Byrne
Olga Fern Scott (1897 – 1968)
daughter of Sarah Helena Byrne
Richard Arden Morse (1920 – 2004)
son of Olga Fern Scott
Pamela Morse
I am the daughter of Richard Arden Morse
My second great-grandfather was born in County Meathe, Ireland and immigrated to the United States during the potato famine with his family. He arrived in New York at the age of 7 in 1848. His family took up residence in Wilna, Jefferson County, in upstate New York. I know from notes left to me by his daughter, my great-grandmother, that he and his brother Luke operated a saw mill in Michigan before they moved to Kansas. She wrote that they sent all the wood to build homes in Kansas from that mill. On the Kansas census of 1875 he says he moved to Kansas from Wyoming, which was pretty wild at the time. He was married to Hattie Peterson, age 19, and her parents lived next door to them in that census. James owned a large piece of property, much larger than Hattie’s family, and his profession was listed as farmer.
James and Hattie had 2 daughters born in Ladore, Kansas, where James is buried. After all the adventures he endured crossing the ocean (a voyage during which two of his siblings died), lumber speculating in Michigan, making it to Wyoming, and settling on the frontier in Kansas he died in 1879 at the age of 38, when my great-grandmother Sarah Helena was less than a year old. I don’t know the cause of death. He was probably the only Catholic in his wife’s family, and maybe the only Catholic in my entire ancestry. I was Catholic for a year when I went to boarding school because I didn’t like to go to long Moravian church services and being Catholic was the only way to get out of it. My parents did not object. I wonder if that was some kind of calling from clan O’Byrne that lead me to do that. I will never know but on St. Patrick’s Day I feel proud of James Oscar and his adventurous spirit.
When we were in grade school it was obvious that we had little control over our circumstances. This is appropriate for children leaning to be part of a larger society. Still some of us questioned the system wondering where the teachers/parents/school officials got off being so threatening about some rules and regulations. Some of us used our own immature logic to question authority. Some of us even spoke up about what we considered to be abuse of our rights. Others quickly conformed to fit in and get the brownie points for behaving the way we had been instructed to behave. I was naturally part of the first group, those of us who felt oppressed unnecessarily by silly rules.
My nature was never very compliant without seeing the purpose of the rules. One such rule was my mother’s idea of fashion for little girls. I fought tooth and nail over cutting my bangs, putting permanent waves in my otherwise fabulous hair, and, most of all, the wearing of white ankle socks. The whole look was atrocious, but I was physically too small to fight off the stinky hair solutions or the bangs scissors. All I could do was take of the hideous white ankle socks once I had left home for school. It was my only available form of resisting authority that I saw as fascism. My parents were very strict, believed in beating children to a pulp with a belt, and fought back hard. I saw this was obvious sign of weakness, the need to physically bully a child into wearing white socks. If they had thought about what they were doing they might have made more reasonable rules and fought more reasonable battles, but they were out of their minds with power. They belonged to the Republican Party.
They voted for Barry Goldwater for president and loved war and police brutality. They were animated fans of the Viet Nam war, which was truly the last straw. They saw America as entitled bully, and I saw them as entitled bullies. Our political paths would never cross once I was old enough to vote. There was no discussion because my dad would blow his top so wildly that it was out of the question to question his opinions. I just wore a patch on the back of my jeans that said “War is not healthy for children and other living things” and they voted a straight Republican ticket. I have a letter my mother wrote to my father when Kennedy was elected bemoaning the fate of the world. They were truly nuts.
I now thank them for the training I had early in life to see that some authorities use power for evil (I still think permanents are evil and probably cause brian cancer). Some authorities are just ignorant, and must be opposed in order to save the world from fascism. The political scene we face today is clearly one of treacherous consequences. I thought most of the violent crazy people were already dead, but I was completely off course. This sentiment is alive and sick. It has never been more important to vote and become aware of the rights we still have in this country to shape our future. Please inform your self, gentle reader. Consider the possibilities very carefully, and then VOTE!!!
Native cultures around the world have celebrated the significance of new and full moons. Full moon is the apex of light energy for the month. Although we wish to retain some of our practices and enhance them, the full moon is a perfect moment to discard beliefs and addictions we wish to shed. In the brightness of the full moon light we can harness the symbolic power of lunar mystery and magnetism. We can use it to focus intently on replacing worn out, maybe meaningless things we do and say out of habit. Not every addiction is harmful, but blindly following a path from the past without scrutiny is less than our best. Full moon is the time to discern, time to look within for answers to spiritual questions.
Without complicated chants or candle light we can choose this time to make a list of all the thoughts words and deeds we see ourselves doing without thinking. We all get into ruts and find ourselves repeating mistakes or just blindly following what we have always done. This full moon today is a wonderful time to concoct a quick, simple ritual to banish stale thinking and acting.
If weather permits hold your ceremony and meditation outdoors in the light of the moon. Take the feeling with you into the next month to remind you of the changes you have set into motion. Carpe noctem, gentle reader.