Tag Archives: digital photography

what matters

what matters

it matters not when life begins
or ends; it is the in between
the crooked path, the highs, the lows
as most lives go, pendulums swing
and we obsess in the extremes
but that’s not where the rubber
hits the road, i’m told, steady
as she goes, the wise have said,
don’t lose your head, don’t sweat
the insignificant, but who’s to say
what matters most at end of day
if truth be told, if truth exists
the rights, the wrongs the
reasons why we fight and fret
and lean toward right or left,
it is the middle, we forget,
where time is present,
neither here nor there,
where god, if god exists, is love,
is everywhere, where grace
flows freely, despite who,
what, why, or where you’ve been,
can we just close our eyes, pretend
it matters not the second life
begins or ends, it is, as it has
always been, the in between

~kat

crone maple

crone maple

she is a crone, yon maple tree
her sweetness long run dry
her core laid bare, exposed,
she stands tall, deeply rooted
having weathered many a storm,
seasonal extremes, drought
and deluge, through it all she
greens, her leaves a celebration
of resilience, audacity, of life..
a marvel, casting shade to cool
and sturdy limbs for nesters,
a wonder, though onlookers
might surmise her useless, her
scarred exterior as evidence, they
underestimate her power and
the fire that courses through
her veins…underestimated to
the peril of small minds who’ve
forgotten that their shallow roots
mingle with hers in the hollows

~kat

a little rain

a little rain might make you think
your dreams are clinging on the brink
raindrops are like tears
those things you hold dear
become clear
when you blink

~kat

In my walk this morning I happened upon this rain battered dandelion…and it made me think. I think it’s safe to say that the Muse is alive and well here in the Bramlett Mountain foothills.

Keeping on form…a Clogyrnach poem seemed a good idea. (is it just me or does the rhyme and meter of the Clogyrnach feel very much like a limerick with the last line split into two? just a thought 😉)

Clogyrnach Poems

This Welsh poetic form is typically a six-line syllabic stanza with an ab rhyme scheme:

Line 1: 8 syllables with an a rhyme
Line 2: 8 syllables with an a rhyme
Line 3: 5 syllables with a b rhyme
Line 4: 5 syllables with a b rhyme
Line 5: 3 syllables with a b rhyme
Line 6: 3 syllables with an a rhyme


A ReVerse Poem From a Week I Wish I Could Reverse

Kat’s bird-feeding station in the Bramlett Mountain foothills – Spring 2022
The silence on my page might imply that I have not been writing much this week. But in fact I have written words every day. Verses, poems that went unfinished because I was distracted by the news of the day and all manner of war…against a sovereign democratic nation…against truth…against democracy itself…against women, most achingly distracted by the war against women in my own country, and feeling powerless to stop the coming tidal wave…as heartless people in power check us off, one by one. They won’t be satisfied with one victory…subjugating women, but will surely move on to dole out equal shares of misery on minorities that make them uncomfortable…people of color, LGBTQ people, non-evangelical christian people…who else will face their wrath before their thirst for blood is quenched? And even now, still, I wonder about the children…always the children who were ripped from their parents at our southern border. I pray for them every day. 

It’s a wonder I managed to write anything at all this week with this garbage swimming in my brain. So in the spirit of getting it out of my notebook and onto a proper page, this is a good time for a ReVerse. Would that I could reverse the cruelty of the humans who inhabit this planet…

I saw my first indigo bunting at the bird feeders yesterday…and a scarlet tanager…and a red breasted grosbeak. This is a first for me…three more beauties came to call, in person, just outside my window. All coexisting with the other birds, rabbits, chipmunks, squirrels and deer who happen by my little bird feeding station every day. You know, Nature has been doing this much longer than we humans…living in harmony…in balance. We could learn a thing or two. All this to say…that wee flash of brilliant blue…my little friend, the indigo bunting gives me hope.

And with that…here’s the ReVerse of this past week’s poetry that I was unable to finish…

A ReVerse Poem From a Week I Wish I Could Reverse

i don’t want to write about this
there once was a town full of fools
true power doesn’t need to boast
we have forgotten what normal is
a moment, just a moment take
true power’s not up for debate
imposing their will on others until
remember all lives,
but only if you’re white, matter,
the rest are on their own
disdained after their first breath,
barefoot, pregnant, pregnant, pregnant, pregnant
heartbeats matter, breathing not so much
don’t ask, don’t tell
i don’t mind an overcast day or two
breathe in, breathe out,
you need a break
give it a rest
i worry for the innocents
but i know the sun is going to rise

~kat

A ReVerse poem (a practice I started many years ago) is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. 

signs of spring

Bramlett Mountain’s foothills…the greening!
Spring 2022 ~ kat
signs of spring

oh what a thrill it is to see
the greening trees
buds a-blooming
birds on the wing

to hear the sounds of life anew
the doves coo coo
peepers peeping
while we’re sleeping

soft rain falling over the eaves
the fragrant breeze
it’s very clear
springtime is here

~kat

For today, a Minute poem:
The rules are:
* 3 quatrains (or 4-line stanzas)
* 8 syllables in the first line of each stanza
* 4 syllables in the remaining lines of each stanza
* rhyme scheme: aabb/ccdd/eeff
* written in strict iambic meter
So each stanza contains 20 syllables times 3 stanzas equals 60 syllables total.

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