Live germ

This is for Ronovan’s Weekly Haiku Challenge #72, prompt words life and give.

They say they protect
life given by taking a
life, germ live alone

I am thinking of more than one definition of germ: an ovum and a sperm are germ cells, that could develop into an organism. When there is fighting and death over abortion I remember that the egg and the sperm are alive too separately. They can’t all live: we don’t have room or food, do we? And I was playing with more than one meaning and pronunciation of live.

Full Definition of GERM

1a :  a small mass of living substance capable of developing into an organism or one of its parts
b :  the embryo with the scutellum of a cereal grain that is usually separated from the starchy endosperm during milling

2:  something that initiates development or serves as an origin :  rudiments, beginning

3:  microorganism; especially :  a microorganism causing disease

I took the photo at our home swim meet.

Dream state

I am in the soft dream state
longing for my love and mate
my heart won’t stop or hesitate

I cross the border into dreams
nothing quite is what it seems
I stop and play in bubbling streams

I wander in the tall green grass
years since the mower’s pass
unsullied by the smell of gas

I lean against a tree
I feel quiet happy free
I feel accepted just as me

my childhood was a frightened place
the woods were the safest space
if I spoke my heart would race

my work is with adults in pain
scars deep as canyons bleeding strain
my tears fall as gentle rain

my youngest child has reached eighteen
she’s bright and smart and kind not mean
I wonder what her eyes have seen

my adult work is nearly done
it’s time for me to have some fun
beneath the tree in moon or sun

I wander as a child
heart gentle meek and mild
connected to the world so wild

Safe harbor

For Ronovanwrites haiku challenge #70, prompt words cover and color.

cover, shelter all
colors, would you harbor me
should be a cover

Sweet Honey in the Rock: Would you harbor me? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i0XBXJjoXJ4

I thought about cover meaning shelter and meaning the song, and the refugees needing shelter, harbor and cover. We are frightened and seek cover, shelter, harbor. Who do we have to harbor us but each other?

The photo is a synchronized swimmer in 2012.

Songs to raise girls: Long Black Veil

 

This and The Fox are what I think of as the two core family songs. We sang this from as early as I can remember and my father played the Band’s version on the record player all the time. I taped his records to take to college…

This is the song my parents chose to raise girls on? Oh, and I do have it memorized….

Ten years ago on a cool dark night
There was someone killed ‘neath the town hall light
There were few at the scene and they all did agree
That the man who ran looked a lot like me

Ok, it starts with a murder. Someone is killed, in the town, at night. Be careful, little girls, bad things can happen at night.

The judge said “Son, what is your alibi?
If you were somewhere else then you won’t have to die”
I spoke not a word although it meant my life
I had been in the arms of my best friend’s wife

It is about infidelity and not only infidelity, but infidelity with his best friend’s wife. This song is a morality play. He doesn’t speak. I see the magazines at the counters in the grocery store and think about how different this song is from our current culture. Divorce and splashed all over the papers, that’s what the celebrities do today.

She walks these hills in a long black veil
She visits my grave where the night winds wail
Nobody knows, no, and nobody sees
Nobody knows but me

So she doesn’t speak either. She remains faithful to him in visiting his grave, but the marriage must continue, because she only goes at night.

The scaffold was high and eternity neared
She stood in the crowd and shed not a tear
But sometimes at night when the cold wind moans
In a long black veil she cries over my bones

She watches him die for what they considered a sin. This song is about ethics, really. The two of them had broken their code of honor and paid the price, which was that he died for a different crime. And did the man who really killed the person in the first stanza then go free?

Why wouldn’t they speak up? Perhaps she had children and he couldn’t support them. Perhaps they truly considered it a sin, a dishonor, a horrible mistake. Perhaps honor and honoring his best friend was more important than love…. Our current culture seems to think that love conquers all, but it doesn’t in this song. Did they do the right thing? This is a song to discuss and to think about and yes, a song to raise girls.

Though I think the husband and any children would know that there was something…. a parent and partner can’t really hide that deep sorrow….

It was written by Danny Dill and Marijohn Wilkin in 1959 and originally recorded by Lefty Frizzell.

Lefty Frizzell: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=50k18gL76AU]

The Band, 1968

Johnny Cash, 1968

Lots of others…. and us.

The photo is me and my sister, probably in 1993 or 1994.

 

Songs to raise girls: Down by the Salley Gardens

In 2009 my sister came to visit for spring break and our birthdays. We were born in March, five days and three years apart. I said that her birthday present was arranged: a recording session with me, her and my father, to record some of the family songs that we had been singing since birth.

My family had music parties in the 1960s on the east coast and when they were in college at the University of Tennessee. My mother had quit Cornell and my father had quit Princeton and they got married and went to the U of TN and I was born 9 months later. They were very poor. My mother said that she wanted to buy me a three dollar teddy bear but that they just couldn’t afford it.

They did not have a television. They were beatniks and admired On the Road. My father’s family all played instruments and sang. My mother had a much less trained voice but she had a prodigious memory and knew the fourth, fifth, sixth and all the verses of the folk songs. My father also sang classical music and had already sung at Carnegie Hall in his prep school chorus, Williston Prep School. He hated prep school. He had a full scholarship there and to Princeton because he scored perfectly on the early SAT test.

My parents refused to get a television until I was nine and my sister was six. So we sang.

My sister’s response to the birthday present: “Best Birthday Gift Ever.”

She had cancer and my father had emphysema. My mother had died in 2000. I was trying to capture their voices.

We recorded for two two hour sessions in a local in home studio. We made a list of songs and lost it on the way there. So we just took turns naming songs. Both my sister and my father play guitar. I brought kazoos, which we used on a round. We recorded each song once and in two days we recorded 36 songs.

I bought two more recording sessions at silent auctions, but we did not get to record again. And now they are both gone.

_________________________________________

My mother and father would sing “Down by the Salley Gardens” as a duet. He was a baritone and low bass. She was an alto. My sister and I sang her part in the recording.

Down by the salley gardens my love and I did meet;
She passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet.
She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree;
But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree.

In a field by the river my love and I did stand,
And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand.
She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs;
But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears

by William Butler Yeats in 1889

Listening to it, I miss my mother, my father, my sister. I miss singing with them. It was a love duet for my parents, and full of longing.

The photo is my parents, in about 1960.

Full lunar eclipse

Long long ago, when the universe was forming, the Moon fell in love with the Sun.

The Moon was afraid that the Sun wouldn’t see her, because the Sun was so bright. Slowly she pulled herself together. After careful thought, she chose to orbit the Earth.

Now it is another full lunar eclipse. Her face reflects the Sun’s glory back to him. She slides behind the Earth in a three hour version of her usual cycle, from full to only her own light back to full.

“Where are you, Moon?” bellows the Sun. He hates these quick disappearances. He yells and bellows and tantrums. But the Moon knows that he will forget quickly and that he has not bothered to learn and predict her cycles. He doesn’t like to be reminded of loss and endings and death.

The Sun likes it best when he has her full glory, face reflected back to him. He doesn’t see her light. Each month she moves from reflecting his light towards her quiet time when it is only her light that is visible from Earth. She needs this time to remember that she has her own light, even if it is a shadow compared with the sun.

“You should orbit me!” says the Sun, but the Moon knows that if she orbited him she would be burned and barren and dead, no rest and no light of her own. One night a month the Moon remembers who she is and is alone. She lets her quiet darkness shine. The Earth whispers, “Why do you love the Sun so? Don’t cry, Sister.” The Earth’s salt water tides move like tears.

Sometimes the Moon longs for ending, but she remembers: all love, returned or not, is longing and praise for the Beloved. Maybe she will not be loved or seen as she longs to be in this life, but she too will return to the Beloved and be One. And after her time in the dark she slowly returns to reflecting the Sun.

And the Sun loves her in his way. He loves to watch his reflection grow on her face each month, preens in it, until she is full. He is more irritable in the second half, as she turns her face away again. She wishes that he would look past his own light and see her.

Now the little eclipse is ending and she is rapidly becoming full again. The Sun is cheering up.

“It’s silly of you to hide your face.” says the Sun, fondly.

The moon does not smile. The Sun sees his own smile reflected in her face.

 

I took the photo in 2009 at Joshua Tree.

Grieve

For Ronovan’s Weekly Haiku Challenge #66, 2 of the 3 numbers of the beast. The words are pine and grief.

pine, supine, repine
grief, thief, disbelief is chief
rewind, rest mind, find

I suppose the image could be a pine. But this is a picture I took from the Synchronized Swimming Nationals in 2012. Water can be tears, right? Sometimes we are immersed before we can be lifted out…..

Not yet adequately adored

I am wandering in the forests of emotion I am comfortable now mostly I don’t talk about it much though occasionally I am irritable I am thinking about love I have had my children going commando could also be going postmenopausal because there is no longer bleeding or if there is I would have to get checked for uterine cancer but it is hot and why wear underwear of course apparently things can still get wet which is a bit of a surprise since so many women complain of less libido once the hormones drop I as usual do everything ass backwards and want sex more than ever but not when I am working hard and tired and cursing the new server laptop printer program and the keyboard is spaced differently and more sensitive all this fucking equipment when what we really want is to be loved as we are I have only seriously dated two people in the last seven years and one said that what I want is to be adored he said he couldn’t and I thought why not and Rumi says the depth of the longing is our depth of longing for the Beloved and really it’s not a forest for me it’s the ocean it’s the deepest part of the ocean those rifts and I dive all the way and don’t care if I run out of air Beloved I am not yet adequately adored

I will go for coffee instead.

the photo is from 2006, one swimmer carrying the younger swimmer

Beloved

B for Beloved. Rumi and Hafiz, the Sufi poets, write about the Beloved.

The Beloved is God and God is the Beloved.

I like thinking of God as the Beloved. That makes sense to me. God should be Beloved, most Beloved of all.

But sometimes I feel abandoned and lost and stressed and grumpy and it feels as if I am longing hopelessly for a connection with the Beloved. Rumi says in his poems that it is the longing itself that is the connection to the Beloved. Then my inner devil gets annoyed and sarcastic and says, “That’s stupid. That’s a Catch-22. So why is the Beloved Beloved if suffering longing is the way to reach Her or Him?” My inner angel gets involved and is all serene and untroubled and says, “Of course longing is a doorway to the Beloved.” Then they both get out flaming swords and proceed to fight. They can’t kill each other though they try. And I sigh and say to the Beloved, “They don’t behave.” Then the angel and the devil both turn on me and say that I should love each one of them best. “No.” I say. “I love the Beloved best, but you are both part of the Beloved so if everything is loved, then you are both loved best.” Then the angel and devil point to each other and say how the other one is just horribly wrong….. they just go on.

Beacon bacon

I am really enjoying RonovanWrites‘s weekly Haiku prompt challenge. Also he made me laugh here at the “ow” comment. Thank you for making me laugh! The problems are that I have trouble spelling Ronovan (I want to put the o at the end and the a in the middle) and is the apostrophe in the correct place? These are things to ponder. Today’s prompt is Field and beacon. I have been rereading Walt Kelly’s Pogo comics, wordplay and spellingplay all over the place. He makes up words or combines word or misspells words on poipoise. It is wonderful play. So the first word that comes to my mind with field and beacon is, of course, bacon. Wasn’t that true for you? And bacon sparks a whole other train of thought. My brain is like one of those old fashioned train stations, where the engine was place on the central track and could be turned to start off in another direction, or even turned to face back towards the train that it had just pulled in….

And another track: I have a friend of 30+ years who works on rear end devices. Trains, not twerking…. rear end devices replaced cabooses. I liked cabooses better then the rear end box. And we could now go soaring off into black boxes and airplanes…..

Here are the words I played with:

Field, beacon, bacon, become

feel, felt, belt, real steal meal

steal, steeled, feeled, deal.

And the result:

Bacon beacon past

beckons. Feeling real steel field.

Feeling begs, I yield.

The photo is from a place where bacon was loved. Peace be with you.