I used to be able to pretend a lot better than I do now. In some ways life is better, but in other ways it is worse. At the same time, I might like myself better now than, say, in high school. A Chaucerian stanza for FOWC: Lips.
To smile with ones lips and not one’s eyes —
Underneath this mask, who can for long hide?
No longer a good actress, I reprise
This role without success, cannot abide
Nor anymore pretend, not satisfied.
Emotional, my brain tends to break down,
But I’ve no painted smile like a clown.
My family’s garden has been a frequent source of inspiration lately (and honestly almost every time I go out there), and it fit perfectly with PSU’s Weekly Scribblings prompt, “Bird is the Word.” I am also linking with DVerse OLN.
goldfinch and friends cheep perch and search among the plants: empty bird-feeder
Today’s SoCS prompt from Linda G. Hill is “difference.” Because I really like math, one of the first things I thought of is that “difference” is the answer to a subtraction problem. 🙂 Then I wrote this, which I think counts as a cherita.
The answer to a subtraction problem —
How much has changed, to make life
Foreign and strange, yet better in some ways?
What has been taken away?
Do not forget how much is left:
What has made a positive difference?
For FOWC: Coach, I wrote a Chaucerian stanza today. It is important, yet sometimes difficult, to be teachable.
Humility is key to being great,
For in accepting one does not know all,
One can be taught: a coach can help create
A greater confidence where fools would fall.
To know when to oneself a novice call
Will help skills in reality to build,
No sense of hubris but with newness filled.
On this Holy Saturday, we read an excerpt from an ancient homily as a part of the Liturgy of the Hours. It inspired me because it is a fantastic example of antithesis. Click here to read it. The homily, plus some Bible verses, inspired this poem, which is called a Puente poem because the middle line acts as a “bridge” between the two stanzas.
Just as in Adam all die,
So in Christ shall all be made alive:
Adam’s side had brought forth Eve,
Christ’s side made blood and water stream
~ My side has healed the pain in yours ~
Human hearts experience much hurt,
But the Lord the last word does assert:
Angels which had blocked the garden
Guide souls to heaven, gracious pardon.
This poem was inspired by the Weekly Scribblings about trees and also FOWC: Air. I am not sure if this poem is finished (does anyone else get that feeling that, sometimes, the poem might have more to say?), but this is what I have currently.
How beautiful is every tree, There is delight in different leaves Of varying forms and sizes, even one With a tall and leaning trunk —
The air is fresh and clean, clearing Old thoughts, and memories healing.