Flowers and Bombs, NaPoWriMo

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Monday Morning Musings:

“Forever—is composed of Nows—”

–Emily Dickinson,  Full Poem here. 

“N. A. Sumanapala, a shopkeeper near St. Anthony’s Shrine who said he had run inside to help, said: “It was a river of blood. Ash was falling like snow.” New York Times, April 21, 2019.

A week of explosions

flowers, storms, shots, and lies

bombs belie the façade

of Easter calm and Passover why

(is this night different from all other nights?)

 

Rivers of blood

with no miracle to part

falling of ash

unresurrected, fighting stops, starts–

A plague upon both your houses

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Of indecision and more lies

as the First Citizen cries

in confusion,

“No collusion!”

 

His followers cheer

not caring, or unclear

that he would destroy

all that they hold dear,

so they support and worship

their false idol. Rejoice

in the new normal, hate

the latest whipping boy.

 

I cook, wrapping myself

in almonds, dates, and honey.

The house is sunny,

scented with cinnamon

like the cat, who slumbers sun-sided

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Passover Almond Cake

The pink moon rises

we drink the first glass of wine, recline.

We are free, but refugees detained

chained, their children abused–

and we all lose–

Let all who are hungry come

 

We watch movies of

women hiding secrets

sometimes in plain sight

in poetry and stories,

sometimes driving in the night

to obligations, demands

and longing

for uncharted territories.

 

Certain women

holding together

waiting, still in a man’s world.

often unrecognized–

we place

an orange on the Seder plate,

to recognize, no longer erased.

 

We talk,

walk through city streets,

footsteps, heartbeats,

statues and stories,

petrichor replaced

with the scent of blooms

filling the air with their perfume, a trace

lingers in my mind.

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A week of explosions

flowers, storms, shots, and lies—

all the endless ifs and whys–

and yet, my heart thrills

at the sight of the spring tide

with waves of flowers,

creating bowers

while the robin’s trills—

and we remember

forever is composed of nows.

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Red Bank Battlefield Park, April 2019

 

Day 22, NaPoWriMo  challenges us “to write a poem that engages with another art form.” My Monday musings always engage with the world around me through photos, and often movies or shows we’ve seen–so to an extent–I’ve met the challenge.

We watched the movie Certain Women on Netflix. We watched Becoming Astrid (about Swedish author Astrid Lindgren, the author of Pippi Longstocking and other books) on Amazon Prime, once I figured out how to turn on the subtitles. We saw the new movie, Wild Nights with Emily about Emily Dickinson in the theater. I liked all three movies.

 

 

 

 

39 thoughts on “Flowers and Bombs, NaPoWriMo

  1. More ‘why’s than ‘if’s this week, I think. The only answer I can think of is that boys will be boys. We do the most appalling things to one another and as long as someone has given it a name and a reason, it’s okay. Nothing ever changes.

  2. Cindy is right. You capture the whole of existence with this poem. I didn’t talk with my husband about the bombings in Sri Lanka until late in the day. The depth and breadth of hate is too much … just too much. Anyone capable of committing such atrocity is godless, regardless of their claims to religion. Thank you for the photos (especially the almond cake ;). We need beauty. We saw Certain Women sometime ago. Of the three, the story of Jamie was hard for me. Her loneliness was so palpable.

  3. Almonds, dates and honey.. wonderful! Stunning pink blossom. Love the Easter Bunnies on the doorstep with eggs in pots, and the wave of wisteria. Thanks for these lovely things. I’m refusing to look at any news at present, the evil in the world is daunting and I’m feeling too sensitive to read about any more atrocities, but your beautiful photos make me smile.

    • Aww–thank you very much. I seldom watch the news–much prefer hearing it on the radio without the images. The decorated doorstep was somewhere in Philadelphia–on Pine Street, I think.

  4. This one brought tears (and smiles). As always you are skilled with your word loom.
    Have you read “One Hundred Nights of Hero” by Isabel Greenberg? For some reason this post in particular reminds me of it. (K)

  5. Favorite line: “forever is composed of nows.” Japanese cherry tree blossoms, the best! Is that what I’m seeing?

    P.S. I did notice “petrichor,” one of your favorite words, I gather—and an orange on the Seder plate.

  6. There is so much here. Beauty, darkness, so much of life as it is in the now. Beautiful images, too. (I think you are the reason my Netflix queue is so long.)

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