Grab a pencil and pull up a chair, this is the place for poetry!
How you chase the daylight
as it departs at the end of the year
shooting out among the rocks
to leave your mark
before the moon pulls you,
gathering deep piles
in great sandy knots
worthy of our efforts to untie
Foodie beach delight,
noodle-heaped upon a plate
This poem is the second in my series of ekphrastic writing on cyanotypes by Anna Atkins. For details about why I did this etc, please see yesterday’s post! Thank you for reading!
Great hand, whose fingers
raked through the sea
no longer holding fast
but now your ghost displayed
as it reached for the sun
a dream of the meadows
where your brothers and sisters
swayed with applause
delight of urchins,
a tidal clap
breaking free to rush alongside
swarthy boats,
palm to palm with the oars
I’m not sure how much of a deal I’ve made about it here on my poetry blog, but I am a major cyanotype enthusiast, and have a tendency to make a lot of them. You can see some of them on my website. Two years ago, I saw a post on Hundred Heroines’ instagram – a call for poetry ekphrastic style in response to Anna Atkin’s cyanotypes. HERE you can learn about Anna Atkins, if she’s a new name for you. THIS was the instagram post.
Of course I was interested, and had a wonderful time picking out some pieces of hers to write for! I’m not sure what happened to the project; I know I sent off the email but this was a couple of years ago and it’s all water under the bridge. So I’m sharing them with you now – the result of my enthusiasm for an art form and a bunch of research I did on the types of “algaes” she used for her work. Thank you for reading – stay tuned for a few more of these!
In the wee hours
the stars blanketed the sky
the Milky Way stretched
and constellation rhinestones
punctuated the darkness
The stars in Colorado were incredible. We were lucky with the moon (I’m guessing it was either pretty new or rising very, VERY late, or maybe both). The photo I’m using for this post wasn’t made there – this was at our campsite in 2021 near Big Bend National Park. I was too astonished in Colorado to get out a camera! Somewhere I have some digital photographs of the Milky Way from previous camping trips, made with a real camera, not my phone; they are locked inside my defunct hard drive right now. Anyway photo tangent over: thank you for reading!
a flock of parrots
concealed in the old quarry
on their own mission
a flight on green summer wings
urban tropical surprise
While we were visiting the mission, this poem happened! This is the second time we have seen wild parrots somewhere we would never have expected it (the first was around a large rain puddle in a parking lot in Austin). Wild parrots are always a fun surprise! Also, I recently shared a whole pack of polaroids from our excursion to the Missions on my website: you can see them here. Thank you for reading!
Somewhere the hens who laid the eggs whose yolks became custard at our stove are clucking around in free range happiness, considering their next morsel. Farther away, the wind is blowing through the coffee plants, a thunderstorm approaching over the mountains to shake and rattle every bean on the plantation when it rolls through. The farmer wipes his brow with a bandana, re-dons his hat, talks to someone over his shoulder. His neighbor meanwhile prepares another load of cocoa for the roaster, to be winnowed and fanned, made into cakes and ground, a fine powder in a plastic yellow box in the pantry, that graced not the espresso machine but the double boiler. Cows in the pasture low for their calves to come and sip the sweet cream that their dairy sisters donate at the parlor, to be refined and pasteurized, packaged and easily milked from the supermarket cabinet. On the west coast, grapes are ripening, to be picked under the perfect sun, fermented, and bottled into the wine that walloped me into the morning after decision to sit at my kitchen table and indulge in a chocolate affogato on a Friday before noon.
A prose poem based on a true story. Happy weekend, y’all! Thanks for reading.
a chipmunk’s business
involves a lot of running,
sniffing, and nib’ling
sun on the meadow
gophers trundle underneath
a hillside network
stillness brings nature
curious, oblivious
quiet calming fear
Thank you, readers!
an apparition
in the space between two trees
a silent beauty
One of the benefits of spending time messing around quietly with a camera is that wildlife isn’t too scared of you! Thanks for reading
I went for a walk
thunder wanted to come too
he held back the rain
Sometimes the rain is all bark and no bite – thankfully, when you’re a long way from camp and shelter but you also are carrying a bunch of cameras. Thanks for reading!
In the mountains everything is too much
reading: too much
thinking: definitely over-much
writing: maybe a little
because grasshoppers are buzzing
their tightly patterned bodies
through the meadow
where butterflies are dancing
to the beat a woodpecker drums
down the hill in the pine and aspen forest
who sighs to let us know that the wind
is coming
also because clouds are making
shadow pictures on the side
of the peaks, and bees are
stretching their wings in the sunshine
while chipmunks dart around,
replete with adorableness
everything here is too much
because the place is so much
frazzling concentration quicker
than the weather can change
intention flees like summer
warmth in the shade
and purpose would rather just
roll down the incline in the
alpine grasses all day
My other half can calmly sit and read for hours when we are camping. I found that the view – pictured above – was so distracting I couldn’t concentrate on a thing! Maybe I could write a little, but first thing in the morning the mountain was so full of life that I couldn’t do anything besides pay attention to it. Nature was pulling at my sleeve so much, so I planted myself on the ground in the meadow with a cup of coffee and reveled in the glory of it all, watching and learning. Thank you for reading!
cloud on the mountain
we swim through the fog like milk
spilled from God’s garden
The road out of Colorado Springs towards Divide, Colorado is a beautiful one that (fortunately) we had seen before. On the day we drove in for the first time this trip, a cloud was sitting on it in spectacular fashion, to where we couldn’t even see stop lights in the distance. It was an interesting experience! Here’s another photo, since I had trouble choosing between the two. . . and as usual, it’s impossible for me to convey with a camera how otherworldly it was. . . .
By the time we got to our campsite, the cloud had lifted and the sun was out. People say the sea is changeable in terms of weather but my goodness the mountains could give her a run for her money if you ask me. Thank you for reading!
The Poetry Patio