Poetry Friday September 27, 2019

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Carol Varsalona at Beyond LiteracyLink. Although retired, Carol continues to be actively involved in literacy development in multiple ways - writing poetry being only one of them. At her site today she is embracing summer in images and poems from around the world. Go over there and check it out. Don't forget to check out the links to other participants sharing poetry today.



In 1958, the year I turned five, my family joined other relatives on a logging and homesteading adventure into the Pine River region of Northern British Columbia. I've been writing bits about that experience off and on for ages, but needed motivation to become truly focused. I committed to sharing a bit publicly every week so that I wouldn't give up. This is the last poem in these drafts for now. I have appreciated all the feedback, questions, and advice I have received from all of the Poetry Friday community.

Now it's time to make use your gifts and advice and start reworking it all.

When I started thinking about where I might send this off to in order to publish it, I discovered that many people don't want to look at work if any version of it has been published in any format, including on a blog. I wish I had known this before I started. Is there a way around this?

ENDING

Just like that,
it was over.

unlike that of
a perfectly hewn tree,
our family’s trajectory
had not fallen true

Daddy survived,
but had to use a wheelchair
for what remained of his life

never accepted it
just got better at coping

the future our family faced
would prove to be
more challenging than
those few months in the north

the horrors ahead
made those hardships
seem idyllic

shaped us all up
into different kinds of people

but we would survive

there really wasn’t any other option

Here are links to previous poems in this collection.

Leaving
Characters
Journey
Arrival
Preparedness
Ready and Willing
Larder
Laundry
Diaper Duty
Skunk Trouble
Working
Pawns
Crossing
Bath Time
invincible 
Explorer
Time For Fun
First Snow
Miserable Physics
Difficult Decision
Return

Poetry Friday September 20, 2019

Poetry Friday is hosted today by retired teacher, poet, and volunteer coordinator at a local used bookstore, Linda Bai at TeacherDance. Today she is showing off Dictionary for a Better World - Poems, Quotes, and Anecdotes from A to Z, an exciting new book by Irene Latham and Charles Waters with illustrations by Mehrdokht Amini. Go over there and read about it. Don't forget to check out the links to other participants sharing poetry today.

Just a reminder that Carol Varsalona and I have switched hosting dates. Carol will be hosting September 27, 2019 at Beyond LiteracyLink, and I will take on her date, October 4, 2019, here at Library Matters.

In 1958, I was five when my family joined other relatives on a logging and homesteading adventure into the Pine River region of Northern British Columbia.
I'm committed to sharing a bit every week so that I don't give up. (with time out for camping and canning of course) I appreciate feedback on the construction of the poetry and ideas and questions about what information might be missing. 

I am almost done. This one here is long. I am sure that by the time I am done it will end up being a number of poems. 

RETURN

neighbours,
understanding the
somber significance
of Uncle Wilf’s
afternoon visit,
dropped in,
wept with my mother,
and offered comfort
with action

supplied supper
and breakfast
minded the baby and kids
helped pack up essentials

------

Mary and Adam Weichel,
my paternal grandparents,
drove through the night,
arrived early the next morning
in their Nash Statesman

Uncle Cliff,
one of Daddy’s little brother’s
just sixteen
with a brand new driver’s license
arrived with them
to drive us and our rambler south

trimmed down to
fundamentals
everything and everybody
was packed into the two vehicles

barely four months
after our arrival,
we began the journey
back the way we had come

------

Mother Nature offered
what comfort she could

ghost white landscapes
monitored our departure

evergreens shrouded in snow
and bare branched aspens
solemnly guided and guarded
our procession south

storm clouds parted
left sanded dirt roads
temporarily alone

sunshine blessed us
as best it could
Lord knows,
     we had rain enough
     inside us

------

at Clinton, we overnighted
with Peggy and Maurice

Gramma and Grampa 
took no break,
continued on southwest
towards Vancouver,
towards Daddy,

still hanging on.

----

early the next day
Uncle Cliff returned us 
to our home town

Mommy dropped us off
with Aunty Dorothy and Uncle Bob
kept Timmy, who was still nursing,

Her folks, 
Isobel and Walter
drove them west
towards Vancouver,
towards Daddy,

in critical condition,

but still alive.


Here are links to previous poems in this collection.

Leaving
Characters
Journey
Arrival
Preparedness
Ready and Willing
Larder
Laundry
Diaper Duty
Skunk Trouble
Working
Pawns
Crossing
Bath Time
invincible 
Explorer
Time For Fun
First Snow
Miserable Physics
Difficult Decision

Poetry Friday September 13, 2019

Poetry Friday is hosted today by children's author & poet, Laura Purdie Salas at Writing the World for Kids. She is showing off Snack, Snooze, Skedaddle, her final published book of 2019. It's a delightful, rhyming, nonfiction picture book that shows different animals getting ready for winter. If you are really creative, do some poeming to let her know how you get ready for those colder months!

When you are done admiring other's posted poems, make sure to check out the links to other participants sharing poetry today.

Carol Varsalona and I have switched hosting dates. Carol will be hosting September 27, 2019 at Beyond LiteracyLink, and I will take on her date, October 4, 2019, here at Library Matters.

In 1958, I was five when my family joined other relatives on a logging and homesteading adventure into the Pine River region of Northern British Columbia.
I'm committed to sharing a bit every week so that I don't give up. (with time out for camping and canning of course) I appreciate feedback on the construction of the poetry and ideas and questions about what information might be missing.
I am almost done with this part of the story. I'm still trying to determine if I should write this whole thing in present or past tense.

This poem might not make sense if you have not read the previous poem here. My mother told me about having to make this decision in one of our conversations about this event many years ago.

Difficult Decision 

Mommy had to make a choice.

If Daddy made it through the night
he would be airlifted to Vancouver.

Did she want to see him?

Uncle Wilf would take her.

They both knew it might be her last chance
to see him alive,
to say goodbye.

But it was a five hour journey
with no guarantees at the end.

And she was responsible
for five small children

So,
Mommy bet on Daddy’s strength
and started packing.


Here are links to previous poems in this collection.

Leaving
Characters
Journey
Arrival
Preparedness
Ready and Willing
Larder
Laundry
Diaper Duty
Skunk Trouble
Working
Pawns
Crossing
Bath Time
invincible 
Explorer
Time For Fun
First Snow
Miserable Physics

Snack, Snooze, Skedaddle, her final published book of 2019. It's a delightful rhyming nonfiction picture book that shows different animals getting ready for winter. If you are really creative you can poem up

Poetry Friday August 30th, 2019

Poetry Friday is hosted today by children's author & poet, Kathryn Apel at The Kat’s Whiskers. She shares two Aussie verse novels and has an exciting announcement about her new picture book. When you are done admiring all that, make sure to check out the links to other participants sharing poetry today.

I'm travelling on Friday but will be sure to connect up with all your posts as soon as I am connected to the internet again! I'll be away camping next week so I'm not sure if I will be able to connect up with you next week.

In 1958, I was five when my family joined other relatives on a logging and homesteading adventure into the Pine River region of Northern British Columbia.
I'm committed to sharing a bit every week so that I don't give up. I appreciate feedback on the construction of the poetry and ideas and questions about what information might be missing.
I have one or two poems left in this part of the story. 

Miserable Physics

early December
headlights cut through
the afternoon darkness
of another winter storm

a truck fishtailed on the ice
before sliding into the snowed lot
beside our cabin

Uncle Wilf, 
who worked with Daddy,
emerged from the vehicle,
his face unusually somber

us kids were happy to see him
but as he entered

Mommy froze

went quiet

just looked at him

eyes wide open

lips already forming

the word

no

Evy,
his voice cracked,
I'm so sorry

she collapsed
into his arms
whimpering

her voice
an anguished
invocation
of denial

no, no, no,
not my Donny

uncle held her
as she wept

sitting at the table
he revealed details

a tree
a snag
back broken
internal injuries

Don would be on his way
air ambulance to Vancouver
next morning

didn't know how bad it was
didn't know if he would make it

more didn't need to be said

hanging between them
was the god awful truth of
Uncle Len, Wilf’s twin,
who, having met the same fate
a few years earlier,
was now confined
to a wheelchair

both knew it was
the best to be expected

on that day
those twin demons,
fear and grief
took possession of our home
and our lives

standing there watching it unravel,
I understood only that
something had happened to
my Daddy
knew nothing about what it meant

only that it was real bad


Today's poem has been the most challenging to write. So many buried emotions have come roiling to the surface. I feel like I don't do the event justice. In the process of writing I spoke to my siblings about how they imagined our mother would react. I've come to realize that I alone have memories of who my parents were in those days before my father's accident. This has helped me make more sense of the direction my relationship with my mother veered into later on. 
My brother thinks I should have named this one Widowmaker, but I thought it might give too much away. What do you think?


Here are links to previous poems in this collection.

Leaving
Characters
Journey
Arrival
Preparedness 
Ready and Willing 
Larder
Laundry
Diaper Duty
Skunk Trouble
Working
Pawns
Crossing
Bath Time
invincible 
Explorer
Time For Fun
First Snow

Poetry Friday August 23, 2019

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Amy Ludwig VanDerwater at The Poem Farm. She is hosting a celebration of the late Lee Bennet Hopkins.  Amy has invited everyone to write and share a poem inspired by or including a line from a LBH poem. When you are done admiring her poetry, make sure to check out the links to other participants sharing poetry today.

I had forgotten all about this till late Thursday but scrabbled together a rough draft to honour him. I have been researching trees, forests, and loggers so while reading about Lee Bennet Hopkins' devotion to poets and poetry I began to see him as a mother tree. For those of you who don't know about mother trees, according to Suzanne Simard, science communication professor at UBC, "Mother trees are the largest trees in forests that act as central hubs for vast below ground mycorrhizal networks. They support young trees or seedlings by infecting them with fungi and ferrying them the nutrients they need to grow."

Honouring Lee Bennet Hopkins (draft)

Lee was a mother tree
succoring poets and poetry
sugaring the diets of scribblers who
he debuted with much ado

Lee was a mother tree
promoting poets and poetry
collating books chock full of verse
on topics many and diverse

Lee was a mother tree
seeding poets and poetry
children in lands from far and wide
discovered verses deep inside

Lee was a mother tree
serving poets and poetry
the community he helped grow strong
grieves his passing now that he’s gone

Meanwhile, I am still slogging away on my memoir in verse. I think the end is in sight.



I was five in 1958, when my family joined other relatives on a logging and homesteading adventure into the Pine River region of Northern British Columbia.
I'm committed to sharing a bit every week so that I don't give up. I appreciate feedback on the construction of the poetry and ideas and questions about what information might be missing.

First Snow

winter came early to that land
a brief tint of autumn
announcing the end of summer

a skiff of bright white crystals
ornamented, glorified the forest

a promise:
more to come

a warning:
get ready

trussed up in
heavy coats,
mitts,
scarves,
toques and boots,
Mommy sent
Rae, Zoe and me
out to play

we three snow nymphs
cavorted 'round
our wild white world
chasing snowflakes
with our tongues
inhaling
air giddy with the
fragrance of fresh cut pine
exhaling plumes of steam

Daddy,
our tall, blond,
plaid jacketed God,
laboured in a sacred halo
of golden sawdust
quartering up
chunks of tree trunks:
fuel for the winter ahead

our squeals of glee
sang counterpoint
to the buzz of his chainsaw
and whack of an ax

clambering
to the top
of the growing
mountain of wood

we chanted

Look Daddy! Look Daddy!
We are taller than you!

glancing up at us
he hollered

Be careful up there!

when you are five
you abide
serene in the ordinary
miracles of life

oblivious to how
precious a moment is

how swiftly it can all change


Here are links to previous Pine Valley poems.
Leaving
Characters
Journey
Arrival
Preparedness 
Ready and Willing 
Larder
Laundry
Diaper Duty
Skunk Trouble
Working
Pawns
Crossing
Bath Time
invincible 
Explorer
Time For Fun

Poetry Friday August 16, 2019

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Christie Wyman at Wondering and Wandering. She is sharing her love of trees in photography and verse. When you are done admiring her poetry, make sure to check out the links to other participants sharing poetry today. 

I spent the last couple of weeks gadding and galavanting about. Trees, for all kinds of reasons, played an important part of my vacation. 

We began by camping for a few days beside the Chehalis river. Surrounding us, tall cedar pillars held up the sky. The first night, rain battered the top of our tent trailer. We woke to roaring thunder and lightning streaking across the sky. Come morning, the sun was shining and we were blessed with glorious weather for the rest of our stay. We soaked in the sacredness of the forest. 

While the younger crowd went off exploring on their bikes, I sat in a forest clearing and finished reading Haunted Hills and Hanging Valleys: Selected Poems 1969-2004 by Peter Trower, a BC logger and poet. That link will take you to my Goodreads review of the book, but I leave you with this bit here,

..logging's a lot like writing poetry.
Mind-cables wrench loose
the stubborn ideas,
sometimes to wedge them
in hopeless canyons
and knowing just when
to blow the whistle and cut them off
is a knack
or no small importance.

I urge you to go the Poetry foundation and read The Last Stand of Magic by Peter Trower.

Then we left the rain forest and headed off to our home in the semi desert region of Oliver BC. We sat in my brother's back yard and watched this conflagration on the mountain. 

Meanwhile, I've been working on finishing up final drafts of my memoir project from 1958. I think I have two or three more poems to go. Hurrah!

I was five when my family joined other relatives on an adventure into the Pine River region of Northern British Columbia. This means my memories are somewhat sketchy and usually loaded with emotion. I've been able to fill in many blanks based on conversations with those who are still with us.
I'm committed to sharing a bit every week so that I don't give up. I appreciate feedback on the construction of the poetry and ideas and questions about what information might be missing.

time for fun

sure it was
a hard life

but
laughter and teasing
were ubiquitous

love was the language

day time
women visited and
helped one another out

my cousin Ducky,
only 8 1/2
visited often
tended us children
while Mommy got her chores done

her kindness
and joy
etched itself
onto our hearts

evenings,
folks got together
drank tea and coffee
whiskey 
if it was at hand

told stories
played cards
canasta and
penny ante poker
were popular

tucked the little ones
together into bunks
head to toe

late in the evening
Mommy and Daddy
carried their
bundled up dreamers
through the
moon lit forest
home and
into our own beds 


Here are links to previous Pine Valley poems.
Leaving
Characters
Journey
Arrival
Preparedness
Ready and Willing
Larder
Laundry
Diaper Duty
Skunk Trouble
Working
Pawns
Crossing
Bath Time
invincible 
explorer

Poetry Friday July 26, 2019

This week's Poetry Friday roundup is hosted by Margaret Simon at Reflections on the Teche. Go there to learn how to "Steal Like An Artist." Then admire her poem, A Teaspoon and a Bit of String. Make sure to check out the links to other participants sharing poetry today.

The end is in sight for this draft of my memoir project from 1958. I think I have three or four more poems to go. Whew! 
I was five when my family joined other relatives on an adventure into the Pine River region of Northern British Columbia. This means my memories are somewhat sketchy and usually loaded with emotion. I've been able to fill in many blanks based on conversations with those who are still with us.
I'm committed to sharing a bit every week to get some kind of drafts out there. I appreciate feedback on the construction of the poetry and ideas and questions about what information might be missing.

explorer

brave and bold
heady and ready
to stretch my horizons
I ventured
off into the forest
alone

it let me in
a sly smile
revealing a deer path
illuminated by
streaks of sunlight
that pierced through crevices
in the towering pines

dark shadows
from the understory
scrutinized me
while I crept on
a silent mouse
heart pounding with
frissons of
excitement
and fear

did bears lurk there?

in the distance,
the crack
of industry
beckoned

drawing closer
I crept to the edge
of a clearing

came upon Les,
one of Walter’s boys
an older cousin,
might have been 12,
chopping fire wood

mesmerized
I watched
the elegance
of his body
as his arms
stretching over head
swung the ax
forcefully down,
rending open the
block of wood
perched on a stump

a crack as it split,
fragments flying into the air

he bent over,
grabbed up the larger chunk
placed it carefully

swung again,
splintering the wood
into smaller
and smaller
bits
of kindling

pausing to collect them,
he looked up

noticed me

startled
he hollered,

Hey! You!
What are you doing here?
Git on home!
It’s not safe wandering
around by yourself!

for a second
I hesitated

wanted to ask if
he would
take me back

then turning
I raced back
the way I came

tumbling home
safe and sound
into my mother's arms

Here are links to previous Pine Valley poems. 
Leaving
Characters
Journey
Arrival
Preparedness
Ready and Willing
Larder
Laundry
Diaper Duty
Skunk Trouble
Working
Pawns
Crossing
Bath Time
invincible 

Poetry Friday, July 19, 2019

This week's Poetry Friday roundup is hosted by Carol at Carol's Corner. Go over and admire the yellow lab service puppy she is training. Her poem, I Will Love You Well, will break your heart a bit. Make sure to check out the links to other participants sharing poetry today.

I finished reading salt. by nayyirah waheed. I wish, almost more than anything, that I could write like this.
She has a gift for parsing out significant truths in so few words. Look at this poem here:

good + girl

-- rope

salt. overwhelms with this kind of stark profundity. If you have not yet read it, you should.

My library copy had page after page of dog ears that I assume were marked because someone appreciated the poem on that page. It was a special treat for me to see if I too would be blown away by it. Mostly I was.

Meanwhile, I am still slogging away on my memoir project from 1958, when my family joined other relatives on an adventure into the Pine Valley region in Northern British Columbia. I'm committed to sharing a bit every week to keep me going. I just hope to get some kind of drafts out there. I appreciate feedback on the construction of the poetry and ideas and questions about what information might be missing.

In many ways, life in the bush was hard, but it wasn't all there was. Laughter, love, and playful teasing were ubiquitous. Life was full of fun, and for us kids, a freedom most children today can't imagine! 

invincible

reclaimed by the forest
we youngsters ran wild,
transformed into
untamed creatures

barefoot mobs
careened between trees,
terrorizing our domain,

upended rocks
revealed concealed critters,
minuscule and
marvellous

played
tag and hide and seek
tossed rocks into the river
competing
to reach the farthest
make the biggest splash

admiring the older ones who
searching for the perfect flat stone
skipped as many times as possible
across the water

carousing from cabin to cabin
younger ones trailed after
older ones
jumped on beds
built forts out of bedding
disturbed babies
till one adult after another
lost patience
and chased us along

a whisper of umber cloud,
the distant rumble
of loaded logging truck

sent us into a tizzy

here and there
from all directions
we came running

chasing after it, we
disappeared into dust blooms
rolled in the powdered earth
exploded into laughter
gazing at one another’s
dirt brown faces

my only responsibility was
keeping my two younger sisters,
rae and zoe, safe

maybe danger
lurked,
stalking us
from dark shadows

i knew only comfort and mirth
in that green world
redolent
of wood smoke,
fresh pine
and rich earth

Here are links to previous Pine Valley poems. 
Leaving
Characters
Journey
Arrival
Preparedness 
Ready and Willing 
Larder
Laundry
Diaper Duty
Skunk Trouble
Working
Pawns
Crossing
Bath Time