First Friday Poetry May 2025

I'm joining Beverly A Baird & Linda Schueler again in a year long poetry practice. On the first Friday of each month we, and anyone else who joins, writes a poem and shares it. This year the focus is going to be on using poems to inspire us.

This month we are on our own to choose our own mentor text poem.

I recently read an article about Janis Ian's first song, written and recorded in 1965 when she was only 14. I had never heard of Society's Child until then. The song of hers that resonated most with me is At Seventeen. I'm using it for my inspiration this month.

When I was in grade ten, I went off to a Catholic Youth Conference one weekend, and returned home with Hepatitis A. While at home, too sick and exhausted to read, I listened to CBC radio's Cross Country Checkup with Peter Gzowsky. He was interviewing national and international feminists. It was a revelation for me. I experienced a paradigm shift in my world view and returned to my small town high school a very different person than the one I was before.

At Seventeen

I learned the truth at seventeen
That boys should never fill girls dreams
That equal rights and equal pay
Would prove to be the only way
To control our bodies and our minds
According to our own designs
It isn’t what it seems
At seventeen

My mother’s life made clear to me
that a husband and a family
Was no guarantee
of equanimity
that education was the key
to choice and opportunity
it was clear to me

at seventeen

Those of us who dared to venture
Into a new kind of future
Someday, if we found love true
there never would be payment due
for independent girls like me and you

Life's different than it seems

At seventeen

Decades have past and much has changed
We’ve lost much that we once gained.
I ache for girls still in their teens
And hope that boys don’t fill their dreams
It isn’t all it seems
At seventeen

Here's Janice Ian singing her Grammy award winning song. 

FIRST FRIDAY POETRY AUGUST 2024

I'm joining Beverly A Baird & Linda Schueler in a "year long poetry practice – on the first Friday of each Month," when we, and anyone else who joins, writes a poem and pairs it up with a photo relating to it.

We've had house guests off and on all summer. I had to sneak away from the grandkids this morning to scratch out this little ditty. 

It's hot. Really really hot. Forty-four degrees in the shade kind of hot. The official forecast doesn't show this, but our backyard does. I took this photo of our heat pump thermometer after it had cooled down somewhat this afternoon. 

Thankfully our neighbour has a swimming pool that they share with the neighbourhood. 

dog days

eggs sizzle on the sidewalk,

leaves shrivel on the vine,

but the pool is cool and refreshing,

so we are coping just fine.

FIRST FRIDAY POETRY APRIL 2024

I'm joining Beverly A Baird & Linda Schueler in a "year long poetry practice – on the first Friday of each Month," when we, and anyone else who joins, writes a poem and pairs it up with a photo relating to it.

On Monday, April 1st, my husband and I celebrated our 47th wedding anniversary. He claims, and I agree, that it hasn't been nearly long enough. 

This got me to thinking about love poems. When I was young, e. e. cummings' somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond used to be my favourite. His [i carry your heart with me(i carry it in] helped me get through the deaths of both my parents.

I've been reading a lot of Mary Oliver recently. Her poems are full of loving the world. Of Love is as close to a love poem as I have found so far. 

Decade by Amy Lowell resonates most for me at this time in our lives: 

When you came, you were like red wine and honey,
And the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness.
Now you are like morning bread,
Smooth and pleasant.
I hardly taste you at all for I know your savour,
But I am completely nourished.

Anyway, I decided to write a love poem. The last line is a nod to Mary Oliver. Here it is:

love’s 

complicated 

comfort

ferries us into

these last years of our lives

the roller coaster 

of ups and downs

has mostly evened out

we manage better

when it dips, 

and when it ascends,

gratitude blooms

we are still here

living our one precious life 

together

FIRST FRIDAY POETRY MARCH 2024

I'm joining Beverly A Baird & Linda Schueler in a "year long poetry practice – on the first Friday of each Month," when we, and anyone else who joins, writes a poem and pairs it up with a photo relating to it.

I keep a Mary Oliver collection of poetry beside my recliner. Her work inspires me to find the sacred magic in the ordinary trappings of my life. My goal for this year is to write poems that celebrate this. 

Occasionally I wake up early enough to watch the sunrise. No matter how it shows up, I am always filled with awe.  Today's poem is about that. 

My partner doesn't get up early enough to take photographs of the dawn so I sent out a request for images. I was inundated with beauty. Unfortunately, no one takes pictures of those ordinary mornings when nothing flashy really happens. Yet ultimately, these are my favourite kind, reminding me that all of us are good enough just as we are. 

Photo by Sheri Stelkia

daybreak benediction

some mornings

the deep indigo of night

transforms,

fluorescing the horizon

a spectacle of 

amethyst, coral and crimson

crowns the sky

some mornings

the dark firmament

cleaves from the earth

crepuscular rays

gild the clouds and hills

in a glory hallelujah

some mornings

there is no fanfare

the stygian sky

just disintegrates

delivering us 

into the faded slate

of a new day

Photo by Trevor Reeves

Photo by Ron Peace

Photo by Trevor Reeves

In case you are interested, the above photographs can be purchased from the photographers. Let me know if you want their contact information.

FIRST FRIDAY POETRY FEBRUARY 2024

Last year, I joined Beverly A Baird & Linda Schueler in a "year long poetry practice – on the first Friday of each Month," when they, and anyone else who joined, wrote a poem based on the theme of the month and a photo taken relating to that theme.

I've decided to join them again this year, even though there is no theme. 

I was given a Mary Oliver collection for Christmas. Reading her work has reminded me to make time to appreciate the world around me and rejoice in the pleasures of nature and ordinary things. Perhaps as I age, I was already on my way to this, but her work certainly reinforces it.

So while there is no theme for this year, I'm thinking I'm going to write about the magic of ordinary life. Today it's about coffee. I didn't expect either of my photographers to have an image of this, so i tried to capture the process myself. I should probably have whittled the poem down more, but I ran out of time.

alchemy

have you ever,
i mean ever,
really paid attention to brewing coffee?

i concede
there are many methods
for making delicious
brews of this black elixir

but none of them compare
to the intimate ritual of
a pourover pot of coffee

i grind beans the night before,
some people think it’s a travesty, but
who wants that racket first thing?

on occasion,
when i have to get up early,
i set everything up before going to bed
(purists insist that grind and water should be fresh)

the truly important bit begins
once the kettle whistles,

now,

pay 

close 

attention

as you pour the boiling water
to barely wet the grounds
observe how it blooms 

into foam and large bubbles
as the carbon dioxide escapes

pour more water,
watch as it steeps
over,
around,
and into the ground beans

note the creation of caverns and crevices
see how they
crash and collapse
as the celestial liquid flows,
now transformed,
into the pot

it’s not over yet
it’s barely begun

peer closely
at the multitude of
tiny bubbles
glistening,
shimmering,
dancing brown jewels
refracting rainbows
of light

pour more water
watch it all again

as you conjure up 

ordinary morning magic

FIRST FRIDAY POETRY JANUARY 2024

 Last January, I joined Beverly A Baird & Linda Schueler in a "year long poetry practice – on the first Friday of each Month," when they, and anyone else who joined, wrote a poem based on the theme of the month and a photo taken relating to that theme.

I've decided to join them again this year, even though there is no theme. I was given a Mary Oliver collection for Christmas and this first poem was inspired by her. 

This photograph is mine. Perhaps next month I will convince my partner and friend to join in with their artwork. 

inspired by The Pond by Mary Oliver

january of another winter
and once again,
i long for snow

fog locks us into
another overcast sky

one
dreary
day
drags on
after
another

meanwhile
weeds flourish
in the still green grass

snap dragons
bloom bright pink
against the south facing
wall of the house

their cheerful stamina
warns:
too warm! too warm!
foretelling of
what’s to come

parched spring seedlings
early forest fires
smoke filled summer days
and barren autumn baskets

It's been a very mild winter here so far. The last time we had snap dragons blooming in January, we ended up with a heat dome in June that killed hundreds of people here in BC. We desperately need a snow pack so that there will be water come summer.