Creativity

Morning Tense Bringing: Haiku Lament

When shouting and rage,
not birdsong, start your day, you’ll
feel tense ’til you change.

Backstory: This morning I got up early to enjoy the sunrise and the birdsong greeting the day. Suddenly, from another part of the house, I heard a video or news report. The audio was full of commentators shreaking and yelling. I felt myself tense up immediately, and even when the broadcast was shut off, I still felt tense and resentful the rest of the morning.

Homage To AMMentoring, Still

Upon reading Calming the Wilderness, riffing.

It feels strange to,
at last, again,
peel back the flap of another
large, manilla envelope.

Departure

Decades past,
the first one from her
contained guidance,
wisdom,
and introduction
to an unfamiliar,
yet exciting and welcome,
urban life.

I was brought in,
feted,
playing with the Big D
boys and girls now,
uncertain,
wrapped in a glass and steel
citadel
along a Northwest Expressway,
(long before I settled in a
specific Northwest expressway.)

She, always smiling,
eyes shining,
always kind,
giving wisdom,
guiding me through
the intracacies of even higher
las places I yearned to be.

Voyage

Then, I left.
What a long, strange trip!
Touching base with her
actually rarely,
yet constantly mentally,
as though she were
some reality Ebenezer,
not the man,
but the touch stone.

Return

Now we reconnect,
after our journeys took us
far and away,
and we each escaped
that cold urbanity
(once more, she teaches!),
to find our home,
our rest,
our real core sacred selves.

From the second envelope
slides black and white wisdom
about She who I love
so dearly,
and who she now,
clearly,
loves
and understands
at least as equally
as I.

Thumbing the pages,
gazing at letters, symbols:
A strange feeling
of recognition,
joy,
and gratitude.

The voice is so familiar,
with sense of connection.
My heart!
My soul!
My spirit!
swells,
and tears well
up and out
as I read of
Nature observations
and insights,
and wisdom,
and feelings,
hersyetmine.

Thousands of miles
and dozens of years
apart,
we’re even using
the same words,
receiving the same
inspiration,
talking to messengers
sent from the sky,
forests,
plains,
mountains:
Birds,
plants,
animals,
stars,
water,
wind,
Earth,
Heaven.

I’m curious if she,
as once,
is now again as connected
to Saint Francis
as I am.
All creatures….

I shake my head
in wonder
and amazement.
Such similarites!
I yearn to see
her portal,
Sangre de Cristo
and Land of Enchantment,
and hope to let her
experience ours,
Spirit Tree
and vortex folds
along the Chickamauga.

Thought:
Perhaps,
through words,
we are connecting
and connected.

The Source is the same,
whether in desert,
on mountain or plain,
through creeks and fields,
grasslands, forests,
or places I can’t yet pronounce.

I’m grateful
and moved beyond words
(and yet, here they are!)
for the truths
and her gift(s)
that this manilla envelope
revealed.

==========
For your own copy of the book of Nature observation poetry that prompted this piece, click: Annemarie Marek’s Calming the Wilderness.

God’s Hand In Nature: Haiku Retort

An Instagram post: “She was a fool, and so am I, and so is anyone who thinks he sees what God is Doing, [writes Bokonon]” #Kurtvonnegut #catscradle
My retort:

To see, in Nature,
God’s Hand, is high gratitude*.
To understand? Grace.

OR
*just means you’re grateful.

CyranoWriter’s Creativity blog started more than a decade ago. I heard a poet read at President Obama’s first inauguration. I thought: “I can do that!” And so I started.

Making a goal of writing and posting a poem or creative piece every day, I put my creative thoughts into a wordpress.com blog. More than 7400 creative pieces later, I moved that site over to CyranoWriter.com. If you followed me there, welcome back!

What is CyranoWriter’s Creativity?

Most of these pieces are short poems, which I try to make into Haiku (they are in the sense that they are 5/7/5). Some are longer. Some are free verse. Some are prose pieces. Some are silly. Most are serious and observational.

All of them feed my soul.
(Here is a great piece from Dead Poets Society / Robin Williams)

Most of the pieces are “romantic” in nature (single for more than a decade, I had a lot to say about the pathos of that state). Now that I’m married, the romantic writing continues, but with much more hope. Other pieces are observations of either nature or human nature. Many deal with the issues we all face daily. And still others are just thoughts and musings, prompted by my observations of what is happening around me. Some are augmented by my photography. Most are left for you, the reader, to visualise in your mind. All of these reflect how I see the world, and what living and observing and just being means to me.

My hope, my dream, is that people will read my work and “see new”. They’ll think about how they see or what they feel about the things I see and feel. And, most importantly, I hope my writing, day after day after day after day, will inspire others to simply see, to observe the amazingness happening around them, and to capture it in whatever form or style they choose.

People tell me “I used to write. I wish I could write more. I need to write more.” To them — to YOU — I say: “Do.” Because, 7 years ago, I heard another poet. And then, I did.

PS: My work is in chronological order, with the most recent writings immediately following this post. If you are looking for a particular subject or topic, type in some key works in the “Search” bar (above right), and it should bring up all my writing related to that topic.