mermaidcamp
Keeping current in wellness, in and out of the water
You can scroll the shelf using ← and → keys
You can scroll the shelf using ← and → keys
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
Dream state leading to broad daylight, lingering impressions
Trace history down long corridors of power, sorrows, laughter
Holding on to feelings while letting go of rigid definitions
Jumping into the stream of flowing light at the heart of the matter
Poetry is flowing profusely this month. Enjoy the creative thrills available at #NaPoWriMo during April. Ride the poetry train here.
blooming in unison with stars, moons and constellations
each petal says something unique as it opens to the sun
fleeting art of the garden speaks directly to the soul
translation is not needed or available for the subtle message
of color, light, scent, flavor and soft petals dropping to the ground
To ride the poetry train in April check the poet participants’ sites here.
Hawks and hummers build peace on earth in the pine tree
Nesting next to each other for social and security reasons
Flying out at dawn in search of different kinds of sustenance
Flowers gently lift their cups of nectar while mice scatter and hide
The tree takes care of hidden family members not yet prepared to fly
Above our heads and beyond our vision the world revolves and evolves
For more fun during the month of April, hop on the poetry train, which has just pulled out of the station.
I know why I love museums. They contain great art and beauty not for sale. Taking in an exhibition is different from going to a gallery opening with a possibility of purchasing something to take home. Botanical gardens and flower conservatories are even more attractive because they are maintained in ways I could never do at home. The extravagance of collections on display to the public makes me very happy. I never mind paying a fee to tour a museum because I know the expense for the establishment goes far beyond what they can collect at the door. Volunteers, donors, patrons and members keep the bills paid and the events continuing. Plans are made years in advance to show collections and feature artists at special opening galas. What does this have to do with my regular life at home?
In December I cleared out my bedroom, giving my closet an extreme make over. I jettisoned mass quantities of clothing to make my surroundings both pleasant and well-organized. This purge of possessions has proven to be very satisfying and easy to maintain. I am not tempted to over fill my space with objects or delay dusting. I feel great about my five star hotel style bedroom. We bought a new bed, new covers and pillows which add to the comfort. I am sure I don’t miss all the clothes I gave away, and am still loaded with wardrobe items for all occaisions.
I have turned my attention to my office now. I started to look for something recently and found many useless things stuffed into my office closet. I began to eliminate, file, move, and generally tidy up my work space finding art, art supplies, sewing, fabric, patterns, and all manner of buttons, remnants and sequin trim. I also have stored both framed and unfinished art I have created by stuffing it into spaces on the bookshelf. The place is a mess, but it will not require as much work to reform as my clothing did. I finished my taxes today and feel I need to do this organizing task. I don’t honestly need to keep papers all over my desk while I organize taxes, but I seem to do that each year. Now there is no excuse. Next week I will have a clearly organized office that reflects my highly organized life. I believe that the space can create more order or more disorder all by itself. If I have a tiny pile of mail it becomes a big pile just because there is a place to stick envelopes I don’t want to open at the moment. I will turn this tide of unruly ownership of items into a fabulous collection of art and art supplies that would thrill any muse. I want to be able to find, use, then easily store everything in its place, just as Maria Montessori wants me to do. It would have been too shocking to show before and after shots of my clothes, but I am showing you the disgraceful state of my belongings now. I will impress you next week with the spanking new space. I am acting in time before they find me and put my office closet on one of those hoarder shows. Wish me luck on my new museum quality office.
By joining the Round of Words in 80 Days writers I have been given the opportunity to peek into the process used by different people. Initially revealing goals, and now following the theme for 80 days of pursuit of those goals, we let each other know how our lives are proceeding. Some have chosen more personal ideals, and others are achieving astonishing numbers of words/outlines/rewrites and characters developed. I am impressed with all of the participants, and have started to think more about character development. I have not done this, but am now seeing the merit of telling stories of well-developed characters. From fairy tales to murder mysteries the characters hold our attention, and in some cases can bring about new stories or a series of tales. I live tweeted Downton Abbey last week and find it highly amusing to see how emotional the audience is about the characters. I also noticed that my own poetry is void of any characters. I make it all about the cosmos, memory, psyche, all very general and without personality. I need to work on this aspect of my poems.
There are three levels of character development I can identify in this challenge:
These three have all been at work in my life this week. I have been reading about Dorothy Parker, her life and times. Her character has been made larger than life since the internet. It dawned on me that Mrs Parker was a feminist in the early 20th century. She was a contemporary of my grandmother Olga, who got a masters in education and taught shorthand and typing. I was thinking about how odd it must have been to have no vote and be better educated than your husband. I wondered if Olga read Dorothy in Vanity Fair. I still prefer Mrs. Parker as my muse in poetry, but I must admit my grandmother was a feminist in a different part of the country. They were both strong characters, but I have real memories of Olga. I did write a poem about my grandmother, although it is short and sweet. This whole process has brought me to think it is very wise for me to use these characters in my family tree about whom I know so much. They inhabit my dreams and imagination, so I might as well use them as characters in my poems. I have written plenty about the facts in their lives, but I could focus on a more essential theme.
I gave myself two poetry days off this week, which I regret. I took a birthday holiday. This aspect goes back to number one on the list above, discipline and character. It is actually pleasurable to write a poem each day. The mindset that tells me I deserve a day off from this grueling task is quite bogus. I don’t plan to make up in penance for the lapse, or enhance guilt over this. I do notice that some silly side of my psyche wants to claim that poetry is hard and working on it is, oh my, such a burden on my important schedule. This is obviously rubbish made by some shadow character. I reject the claims of this looser. That character will not be developed. I will write about this poetic couple on the left in the photo below:
Today our teleporting cloaks will be hung in the cloak room of the spacious light filled Museum of Modern Art in New York City. I want to go to this cafe for our weekend chat because it is the perfect place to ponder modernism. After some time with the art let us gather to talk over coffee and a snack. I like to stay at museums much longer than most people. Taking a break for social time and tasty treats gives me a second wind to examine more of the collections. Surrounded by what is considered to be modern art we are also surrounded by the city of New York. The stately gothic St Patrick’s Cathedral is right around the corner, a few blocks down Fifth Avenue. In the museum light is abundant, structure is open. The design of the building brings us into connection with nature and the sculpture garden patio. In St. Patrick’s the light is all filtered through ornate, colorful stained glass. It has a very blue feeling from the window placement. The gothic ceiling implies lofty access, but we are enclosed and encircled by religion. Heaven is a formula to be achieved by following ritual. It is a beautiful eternal ritual.
I invited you to meet me here today because I wonder if you have some of the same questions I have about history, philosophy, art, and communication. While I study my family tree and the poets in it I have noticed that I enjoy their works much better when I hear them. Reading the old English style, along with the heavy religious tone, is not my cup of tea. The sound of the words as they are spoken, however, reveals to me the art and skill of these poetic ancestors. When they wrote, 1500s and 1600s, I think most poetry would be read aloud or recited more that individuals reading from books. Literacy was limited. These poets were lucky enough to read and write because of their social status. The views, the philosophy, the relationship with God which they explain in writing are a wonderful way to really know them. I keep thinking about the fact that when they were alive they were modern, progressive, and Mistress Bradstreet was something of a feminist, for publishing poetry. Bibles, priests and vicars were the order of the day. Reading and writing were not for everyone. It was a walk on the wild side, especially for a Pilgrim woman.
After our visit I plan to spend a long time with Gustav Klimt, an Austrian artist I love. I have visited Vienna to see many of his works in person. His use of gold and highly decorative style is recognizable by those who don’t know his name. His images are popular. A painting of his patron, Adele Bloch-Baeur II, is on display now at the MoMa. I have not seen this one. I saved it for after the break because I look forward to a close inspection, and deeply serious interaction. I hope to write an ekphrastic poem about her life, her fortune, and her painting that was stolen by Nazis. You can join me if you like. I do want to hear about your week and projects you are creating. Do you ever link what you do now with centuries past in order to define modern for yourself? Modern when this museum was constructed is already different from modern today. Do you think of yourself as modern, gentle reader?