The indignities are softened by the unexpected. The
unexpected sometimes hurts so much that we all shake for hours. The kitchen still burps over breakfast with the
unexpected and unwanted oatmeal showing up on alternate mornings.
On my tiny and far away television, the world still turns
and our sexist preditor mayor is still mayor.
Here in the SNURF, cries for
help echo out into the night darkness, three repeating, beautiful Japanese
tones mean someone is trying to leave in their motorized chair when they are
not supposed to, and I worry about my room mate who sleeps now all the time.
The crow family flies by just when I’m asked to
replicated a pattern of hearts and dots in felt. Little bits of abstraction stir up the
indignities and the unexpected. Laughter
puts it all in perspective.
If anyone can find the humor in the unexpected indignities, I am sure it is you. Keep on "keepin' on", my friend.
ReplyDeleteThis is really beautiful, a poem, even if unintended. New experiences are always good for creative thought.
ReplyDeleteI heard poetry too. I hope this experience offers you lots more creative fodder and very little worries.
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful, Mage. Skunks are beautiful creatures. Such a shame they have to be avoided. We had a family under our deck for several summers. Not pleasant. I'm amazed you got this incredible photo. I'd have been across the street.
ReplyDeletePoetry indeed, confined in your recovery space your observations are acute and spoken like the artist you are. Be well soon.
ReplyDeleteYou rock! See you tomorrow with a yummy dinner!
ReplyDeleteAmazingly, you are coherent and witty as ever. Love the skunks. Dots on felt? Sounds like therapy. Is this to check out your reflexes or sanity? Perhaps the staff needs help.
ReplyDeleteRemember, stay in the present moment with the crows. How appropriate. Remember the poem we learned in school about "Twa Corbies"? I think it was written about the time Beowolf made an appearance. Dianne
PS Corbies are crows for those speaking Middle Ages English.
Three Ravens
ReplyDeleteThere were three rauens[2] sat on a tree,
downe a downe, hay downe, hay downe,[3]
There were three rauens sat on a tree,
with a downe,
There were three rauens sat on a tree,
They were as blacke as they might be.
With a downe, derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe.
The one of them said to his mate,
Where shall we our breakfast take?
Downe in yonder greene field,
There lies a Knight slain under his shield,
His hounds they lie downe at his feete,
So well they can their Master keepe,
His Hawkes they flie so eagerly,
There's no fowle dare him come nie[4]
Downe there comes a fallow Doe,
As great with yong as she might goe,
She lift up his bloudy head,
And kist his wounds that were so red,
She got him up upon her backe,
And carried him to earthen lake,[5]
She buried him before the prime,[6]
She was dead her self ere euen-song time.
God send euery gentleman,
Such haukes, such hounds, and such a Leman.[7]
Twa Corbies
As I was walking all alane,[8]
I heard twa[9] corbies[10] making a mane;[11]
The tane[12] unto the t'other say,
‘Where sall we gang and dine to-day?’
‘In behint yon auld fail[13] dyke,
I wot[14] there lies a new slain knight;
And naebody kens[15] that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.
‘His hound is to the hunting gane,[16]
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,[17]
His lady's ta'en[18] another mate,
So we may mak our dinner sweet.
‘Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,[19]
And I'll pike[20] out his bonny blue een;[21]
Wi ae lock o his gowden[22] hair
We'll theek[23] our nest when it grows bare.
‘Mony[24] a one for him makes mane,[25]
But nane sall ken[26] where he is gane;[16]
Oer[27] his white banes,[28] when they are bare,
The wind sall blaw[29] for evermair.[30]’
Deep and palpable. Such a gift you have.
ReplyDelete