Calligrapher

this is revealed to me over and over

jeannepoland's avatarThe Vibrant Channeled Creator

Jesus tells his critics we are all equal! Jesus tells his critics we are all equal!

Thought I lost my scribe
to faded memories old;
but Jesus writes on…

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Solstice family

Lavena&Bill1989

June, 1989 Bill and Lavena Smith

FiveSmithChildren1989

Diane, Don, Paul, Ron and Roxanne Smith in 1989

 

Today is the winter solstice, the shortest day and longest night in the Northern Hemisphere.
Poets over the ages have proffered plenty of advice for the coming months.

 

Poet Pietro Aretino, born in the 15th century, said, “Let us love winter, for it is the spring of genius.”

William Blake wrote, “In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.”

There’s a Japanese proverb that says, “One kind word can warm three winter months.”

Emily Dickinson wrote, “There’s a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons — That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes.”

between the teeth

cosmetic-dentistry

what the correct vocabulary can do for us

 

The Calculus


by Paul Hostovsky

My hygienist likes to include me


in the decision-making.
“

Shall we use the hand scaler

or the ultrasonic today?” she asks me.


I like the way she says “we,”


like we’re doing something intimate


and collaborative,


like building a snowman,


or more like dismantling one


after an ice storm, flake


by frozen flake.

“The calculus
is caused by precipitation


of minerals from your saliva,” she explains.


“You can’t remove it with your toothbrush.


Only a professional can do that.” She’s very


professional. She doesn’t dumb it down.


“Pay more attention to the lingual side


of your mandibular anteriors,” she says

.
I love it when she talks like that.


I love the names of teeth: incisor, third molar, bicuspid,


eyetooth. Her own teeth are


virtuosic. “Calculus comes from the Greek


for stone,” she says. “In mathematics


it’s counting with stones. In medicine,


it’s the mineral buildup in the body: kidney stones,


tartar on teeth.” She teaches me all this


as I sit there with my mouth open,


looking astonished.
 
“The Calculus” by Paul Hostovsky from Is That What That Is. Future Cycle Press © 2017.

Golden

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The Golden Era


by Claudia Serea

Wealth was measured in cream for coffee


and chicken for soup.

The days of the rich


were made of imported chocolate


and hair spray.

The days of the poor


were of cold tea


and thin air.

It was the time when God


was taking orders in a restaurant

and delivered steak and fondue


to only one part of the town.

On the town streets,


the saints were walking without shoes.

It was a time when no one talked


but everyone clapped


and sang.

We found out we were happy


from the news.

It was a time


when no one told us


what would happen,

but everyone knew.
 
“The Golden Era” by Claudia Serea from Nothing Important Happened Today. Broadstone Books © 2016.

Barn Owl Comforter

owls cry out for tasty bites

jeannepoland's avatarThe Vibrant Channeled Creator

wordpress celebrates the barn owl wordpress celebrates the barn owl

Hay and loft lifted
to grandeur, music, flighted
lyrics spinning JOY!

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era

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illustration by Julia Rohan Zoch

the aura of an era

 

each era takes the error of its period

turns it notable and distinctive

gives birth to a new aspect, event, or period of time

a milestone

an epoch.

it is not a number , but a chronology of values,

reaffirmed in all their glory

 

it is a new reckoning.

breath it in –

and blow forward.

poem by Jeanne

Little Red Fox

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little red fox with

snow on your nose-nostrils, ears

inflate with the cold!

 

 

 

Blue

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Blue Takes a Bow

 

Blue takes a bow in winter:

reflects the sky in snow below;

blue sings her frigid song

 

Jim Harrison said: “Life is sentimental. Why should I be cold and hard about it? That’s the main content. The biggest thing in people’s lives is their loves and dreams and visions, you know.”

Poet in Amhearst

Emily DickinsonPlease go see this wonderful movie about Emily Dickinson:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zAqrpWW0Qdg

 

Emily Dickinson
It’s the birthday of the woman who wrote: “My Life had stood — a Loaded Gun — / In Corners — till a Day / The Owner passed — identified — / And carried Me away.” That’s the poet Emily Dickinson, born in Amherst (1830).
Emily Dickinson is one of the most-speculated-about writers in history — in popular myth, she was a virginal recluse who dressed all in white and then wrote passionate poems that were so unlike anything being written at the time. Relatively little is known about her life, and biographers often try to use clues in her poems to guess about her habits, personality, and sexuality. The Oxford professor Lyndall Gordon published a biography called Lives Like Loaded Guns: Emily Dickinson and Her Family’s Feuds (2010).
In her biography, Gordon has one major theory that is impossible to prove: She thinks that Emily Dickinson was epileptic, and that this explains the strange jolts and bursts of her language. Gordon says that the drugs Dickinson was prescribed could have been used to treat epilepsy, and thinks that if Dickinson was epileptic, it would also explain her reclusiveness — she was scared that she would have a spell of a disease that was still very stigmatized in the 19th century.
Most of Gordon’s biography, though, is about the Dickinson family, one of the most prominent families in Amherst. Emily’s father was severe, with a strict moral code. She later wrote in a letter to a friend: “His Heart was pure and terrible and I think no other like it exists.” Emily didn’t learn to tell time until she was 15 because she was afraid to tell her father that she hadn’t understood his explanation of clocks. Her mother took good care of everyone but was not particularly warm, and she was more interested in cooking, keeping a clean house, and gardening than in the intellectual debates that the rest of the Dickinsons loved.
Emily had two siblings, Austin and Lavinia. Austin was the a handsome and accomplished man. Like his father, and unlike Emily, he was a very public person — he served on countless committees, oversaw civic projects and business ventures, and was deeply involved in his church.
Austin had a 13-year love affair with Mabel Loomis Todd, the wife of an Amherst astronomy professor, a talented and charismatic young woman. Austin and Mabel met in the Homestead several afternoons a week for sexual trysts in the living room, during which Emily was confined upstairs. Mabel’s husband knew about their relationship and was fine with it. Austin’s wife, Susan, knew about their relationship and was miserable because of it, but she had children and a reputation to uphold.
To make things even more complicated, Emily and Susan were very close. Susan was also a writer, and a good listener, and Emily gave her more than 250 poems over the years. Sue shared her library with Emily, and passed along her favorite books. Emily wrote more than 300 letters to Susan. But it was Mabel, Austin’s mistress, whom Emily never once met face-to-face, who ended up editing and publishing her poems and making her famous. The poet had only published a handful of poems during her life. After Emily’s death in 1886 at the age of 55, her sister Lavinia found nearly 1,800 poems in Emily’s desk.
When Mabel and Lavinia published the first book of Emily Dickinson’s poems in 1890, it went through 11 editions in a year and sold 11,000 copies.

from the Writers’ Almanac for Dec 10, 2019

Video

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