A Dinosaur on My Mind

Welcome to Poetry Friday! Today we’re hosted by Tanita Here. She has a fabulous poem to share which, though she didn’t say it, made me think of the 1920’s when women threw away their restraining fashion, like corsets. She also offered a prompt for the end of the month. Thank you for hosting, Tanita!

This week I’m in Texas visiting my sister. We like to cook and made something I’ve never made before: Pierogies. They are like raviolis filled with potatoes and cheese, an ambitious project, not for the faint hearted. We made over 60 of them. It is a blessing that I’m not wearing any constriction clothing!

So I’ve been away from home for over a month now and will be home soon. I was so glad I visited my sister’s eleven year old grandson, Ezra, because he shared some drawings. His take on a T-Rex is awesome and I got permission to share it and wrote a poem inspired by it. Thank you Ezra!!!

HOW DO YOU DO?

I love showing off!
See my pointy black spine!
See my pointy black teeth?
All the better to dine.

Sure, most dinos are dull—
but I’m bright bluish green!
Out and about
I love to be seen

and would like to say,
though I know you are wary
I swear if you meet me,
you’ll see I’m not scary.

© Janice Scully 2024

I appreciated this project today because it took me to a different place and time, the Mesozoic Era which was 252-266 million years ago. No TV, no phones, no computers! Just the crunch of big feet in the Mesozoic Earth and the misty light perhaps filtering down into the marshes and prehistoric seas. What would I hear if I were there?

Many poets have written about dinosaurs. Here’s another written in a different style written by Walter Sykes, a playwright who was born in 1969.

O, ANCIENT RULERS OF THE EARTH
by Walter Wykes


O, ancient rulers of the Earth,
O, race of mighty warriors,
O, evolutionary giants,
 
I sing your praise.
 
You were powerful creatures of incredible diversity.
 
Elaborate skeletal modifications.
Numerous adaptations for social interaction.
(No Facebook, though.)
Elevated metabolism.
 
You were formidable foes.
Savage in battle.
Unforgiving to your enemies.
 
Even the shadow that remains of you is terrifying.

There is more. Read the rest here:

Tanita tells us she’s seeing signs of spring. When I return to Syracuse maybe I will. Hope you all have a great weekend!

Artist Wayne Thiebaud’s THREE MACHINES

Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by poet Tabatha Yeatts Here. Be sure to stop by her blog to see what she has for us this week. Yesterday she posted about drawbridges with photos, ancient, interesting, and beautiful. Thank you Tabatha!

I traveled last week to the west coast to see my son and daughter-in-law and we visited the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.

I usually feel overwhelmed in art museums. I want to learn about and remember everything! But that is impossible. So I took some photos to jog my mind later. On my visit, I discovered several artists new to me. One of them is Wayne Thiebaud (1920-2021), whose work is often considered pop art, though he wasn’t apparently a fan of Andy Warhol’s repetitive paintings of consumer items.

Wayne Thiebaud is known for his colorful, luscious paintings of cakes, pastries, ice cream and other eye-catchers such as bright lipstick, using repetition and exaggerated shadows. Here’s a Youtube video featuring the artist speaking on his path to becoming an artist. How does did he decide what ideas he will bring to the world? If you have time it’s worth seeing.

Thiebaud paintings feature bright lucious colors that are mouth watering, styled as in an advertisement. Why?

Looking more deeply, his bright objects say something about the essence of consumerism. I saw his 1963 painting, THREE MACHINES, and wondered what might be represented by gumballs? Why gumballs?

What do these mean? I wondered. Next to the painting, the museum posted this description.

"Gumballs are the common-denominator of penny candy--a sort of atom particle of American consumer culture. They also represent, in microcosm, a common cycle of American consumerism, which spans from an imagined ideal, to the pleasure of possession, to a state of diminishing returns--and finally to the sense of loss--until the cycle begins again."

It seems Thiebaud spent his time thinking about more than gumballs. An excellent metaphor, the gumball as an “atomic particle of American consumer culture.” Like candies such as M & M’s, which I love, one just keeps wanting repetitive experience of pleasure. I buy M & M’s whenever I go to a movie, I simply have to, and the empty box is always disappointing.

I wrote a tanka to share:

THIEBAUD'S ATOMIC PARTICLES

Gumballs glistening
tangy red, blue, green
sharp fruity flavor--
desire alternated
with an aftertaste of loss. 

© Janice Scully 2024

That’s one reason we look at art, why I return to art museums–because art touches indirectly what it means to be human. Why do we buy the things and do the things we do? Why do we always want more?

Have a great weekend. The winter is rushing past! Thank you, Tabatha, for hosting.

More Poetry Postcards!!!!

Welcome to Poetry Friday this week hosted by Carol at Beyond Literacy HERE. I look forward to what she has for us this week!

I received lovely postcards from Poetry Friday friends Molly Hogan, Heidi Mordhorst, Michelle Kogan, Gail Aldous, Linda Baie, and Tricia Stohr-hunt and Jone MacCullough. They were bright spots in an otherwise rather dreary week. Thank you Jone for masterminding the poetry swap-New Years post cards! I was thrilled to receive them in my mailbox and loved all the photos, poems and artwork. Thank you all!

       When you lose sight
     of the beauty around you
        may a new day
        restore glory
   to the tattered and ordinary 
      and light the way

© Molly Hogan

Jone shares a photo along with a quote and a poem inspired by it:

Daybreak
What have I risked?
--Kelli Russell Agodon



first morning, walking on the beach, what
    treasures does the ebbing tide have?
    Reading sea-foam like tea leaves, I
    wonder what my ancestors risked? 

© Jone MacCullough

Lunar New Year

The Emperor of Heaven waits
burn the kitchen God and
pray for a good report

Fill red envelops
choose eight crisp, new bills
for health, prosperity,
long life

Hang inverted fu
for the pouring out
of luck--may it arrive
on your doorstep

Prepare the feast
eat auspicious oranges'launch fireworks
light fires

Stay awake!
The new year is coming

© Tricia Stohr-Hunt, 2024

new year's gift-
forget the hurry
waste time every day
listen to the rain
and to the cat's purr

© Linda Baie

Sun holds blue sky's hands
they persuade gray clouds away
sparkling peace and light

poem and photo © Gail Aldous

Michelle Kogan sent her amazing artwork and two poems

Together
we can
do more
let's begin

© Michelle Kogan

Get Ready . . . 

Compass
Cooper's Hawk
as you navigate
unknown, unbalanced paths of
      2024 . . . 

© Michelle Kogan

The Horse in My Throat
for Duncan

Remember that raw day in February
when you told the aching truth?

"The horse in my throat
is a red dragon-horse
his roaring burns me up
in hot strawberry smoke

his hoofs and claws 
are rough and sweet
my voice is tangled 
in the beating of his wings

he's a thirsty horse
hungry for lemon and honey
but if I feed him
he'll whinny and fly away"

© Heidi Mordhorst
Poem from PUMKIN BUTTERFLY 2009

I will be posting on Poetry Friday somewhat erratically, I guess you’d say, over the next few weeks as I will be visiting family. I will also take some pictures and gather some new ideas that I can share going forward. I hope you all have a terrific rest of winter. Today in Syracuse it was sunny and in the fifties, so I know many of you will be getting some springlike weather. Enjoy and stay safe!

A WINTER POEM

Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by the talented poet and teacher, Mary Lee Hahn HERE. Thank you for hosting and I look forward to the poetry you share with us this week!

WINTERY WOODS IN CENTRAL NEW YORK

Those who live where it snows know what it’s like to open the front door after a snow storm and see, hear, and smell winter. Even in the midst of climate change, those days still happen and was on display this week:

IN THE JANUARY WOODS


All around, the snow  
painted the frozen 
branches white
this breezeless morning. 

No snow clumps 
fell with a thud from trees--
no snow Hieroglyphics
on the ground.

I saw no birds.
heard only silence,
and so I pretended
(because it seemed so)
that time had somehow stopped.

               Then soon, the drip-drop 
               of snow melt
               echoed here and there,
              .
               A squirrel flashed by,
               
               A doe and her spotted fawn
               startled and fled, 

               as nature spoke,
               inching it's way again
               towards spring. 
               
 
© Janice Scully 2024

POST CARD EXCHANGE

I received three New Years post cards this week thanks to Jone McCullough’s post card exchange. Thank you so much, Jone, for organizing this.

The first poem came special air delivery straight from Honolulu from Joyce P. Uglow, which I appreciated because her words were hopeful.

TRACKS AND HOPEFUL MOMENTS

The importance of tracks
in the squint of a new day
hopeful moments
moments of wonder
wondering why
words far apart
in the squint of a new day.

© Joyce Uglow 2024

The next poem came from Carol Labuzzetta with a photo of a castle.

RHINE DRAGON FANTASY

Years come and years go
With each New Year comes
More stories of old . . . 
Arrows, maidens, and drums.

Do you remember this time
Of castles and plunder?
Fighting on a riverbank till
The town is asunder.

Memories are stirred when
My eyes see the stone turret
Of the castle on the hill.
Watch out! Don't be lured by it. 

Knights and kings lived here,
So long ago,
Perhaps, Perhaps,
With a dragon in tow. 

© Carol Labuzzetta, 2024

The next postcard was a poem by Tabatha Yeatts accompanied by a painting of a dragon by “Elena.”

As the new year delivers the unknown to hand,
Fortify yourself as well as you can:

Repair your armor, pack a shield,
Stow words and memories that heal,

Keep compassion on tap and pour a deep flagon--
We're at the edge of the map, and here be the dragons. 

© Tabatha Yeatts 2024

We are not the first, it seems from reading Tabatha’s poem, to fight dragons. Happy Year of the Dragon!

How to Write a Peace Poem?

Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by Susan at Chicken Spaghetti Here. Thank you, Susan, for hosting!

Several things.

First of all, I received the proof pages of my poems from the diligent Carol Labuzzetta. She is composing an anthology of ekphrastic nature poems. I sent three photos and poem and was thrilled to see them dressed up and on the page! She improved on the clarity of my three photos and made my poems look good. I am so grateful.

I also received New Years postcards from Marcie and Linda M. this week. Marcie sent an amazing winter photo accompanied by a haiku. The postcard shines brighter than my photo of it. I love the idea of these red berries as frosted ornaments.

    Overnight cold
  leafless bushes become
    frosted ornaments

Marcie Flinchum Atkins 2023

Linda sent this collage postcard with a wonky, sweet hand-fashioned paper clip attached, accompanied by a poem about peace:

Peace Four Ways 2024
by Linda Mitchell

How to write a peace poem
when our world knows only war?
Millions wander with no home
How to wrote a peace poem? 
as bomb-dropping drones
pollute our skies and more?
How to write a peace poem?
when our world knows only war? 

        Peace
     quiet covers
   this warring world
       we fight 
      ourselves

this peace at twilight
this refuge from day's worries
a breath for this world

                            In 2024, let
           us remake the world for peace
           Let us take a moment to begin
              again the notion that with
 a new year there's no war for you or me. 

Since I received Linda’s poem, I watched the New Hampshire primary where the victor insulted his female opponent’s dress. Not fancy enough. He insulted her as a creepy predator would. I may not be a Republican, but she deserves respect and admiration for her talent and courage to run for president.

I saw on TV three young college women, voting for the first time in New Hampshire, declared they will vote against her and for a sexual predator. Really?

Here’s a response to Linda’s poem.

HOW DO I WRITE A PEACE POEM?
(after a poem by Linda Mitchell)

when I live in a country
where voters would throw away freedom
for a strong man?

How do I write a peace poem
when America is lying on its side,
bleeding like an injured bear
and needs to stand strong
because the forest is on fire?

How do I write a peace poem
to inspire the world
to value and love
a whole future's-worth
of children? 

© Janice Scully 2024 (draft)


 

All I know is that I want my children and grandchildren to live in a free society like I did, where they can read what they want, say what they want and live in safety.

It’s a good time to remember George Washington. Several years ago I wrote a series of “Presidential Haiku and Tanka” about each American President. It still sits on my computer.

GEORGE WASHINGTON

Indispensable! 
He patched together ragged,
hungry men, and won!
This clever man was a star. 
Crown and throne? Thank you, but no.

© Janice Scully 2022

Have a great weekend! I want to thank those who recommended the novel “Bright and Remarkable Creatures” by Shelby Van Pelt.” I listened to it on audiobooks and loved the story. It’s really heart warming!

THE SOUL OF AN OCTOPUS by Sy Montgomery

Welcome to Poetry Friday, today hosted by poet and artist Robyn Hood Black HERE. Thank you for hosting, Robyn!

First I would like to show off an empowering post card and poem that I received from Mary Lee Hahn today with a poem. (Jone McCullough had arranged this year a 2024 swap of New Year’s postcards. Thanks, Jone! )

On the card is a message we all need to be reminded of.

Summon up bravery . . . 
dismantle hesitation . . . 
BEGIN! 
        (you've got this) 

Mary Lee Hahn 2024

Thank you, Mary Lee!

____________

A book I’d like to share is one I received for Christmas. THE SOUL OF AN OCTOPUS, is a 2015 national book award finalist, by naturalist Sy Montgomery.:

I admit I have not found the octopus a creature that inspired in me affection. I found them frightening. As fear often arrises from lack of knowledge, the way to dispel fears about an animal, such as the octopus, is to learn more. (The first thing I learned was “octopi” as the plural for octopus is incorrect. It is “octopuses”)

Sy Montgomery got to know these creatures intimately. At the New England Aquarium in Boston, her first meeting involved touching one named Athena, offering her arm for Athena to explore and “taste” with their suckers. Sounded questionable at first but I read on. I’m sure Sy Montgomery had to “summon up bravery” to get up close and personal with this interesting and unusual living thing.

I knew that octopuses were smart, but I didn’t know how smart. They remember humans they meet and learn to trust. They are not violent unless threatened or subduing a fish or clam for dinner. The author truly fell in love with the octopuses she got to know at the aquarium and her affection I felt throughout the book. The attachment the author, and all the staff at the aquarium developed with Athena and others felt was no less than love.

This week I watched the documentary on Netflix, MY OCTOPUS TEACHER, which turned out to be another wonderful love story between a diver and an octopus he visited everyday for almost a year. Well, I might as well say that after reading this book and watching the documentary, I fell in love, too. Exaggerating a little, I wrote this:

MY LOVE LIVES IN AN AQUARIUM

No need to protest,
please do not fuss,
I'd like to marry
my sweet octopus.

Her skin is a light show
she flashes at whim
reds, browns and stripes
from head to her limbs.

She’s smooth when I pet her,
not monstrous or hairy.
Cephalopod mollusks
aren’t actually scary.

Afraid she will ink you?
Devour your finger?
If you cannot be gentle
be gone! Do not linger!

Hundreds of suction cups
trail up her arms.
All the better to taste you—
it’s one of her charms. 

I’d chase my love anywhere
like I did once before
when she crawled from her tank
and slid under the door. 

Oh, what is better I say 
than a hug with eight arms?
to hold and protect you
from undersea harm. 

No need to protest
no need to fuss
I'd like to marry
my sweet octopus. 

© Janice Scully 2024

When I was a child, I declared at one night the dinner table, “I love peas!” My father asked me, “Would you marry them?” At the time I found this hilarious and what came to mind writing this poem. Of course, you marry what or who you love.

Here is a public domain photo of an octopus showing off its ability to blend in. With no shell to protect it, the octopus depends on color change, shape shifting, and squeezing into small spaces among other talents, to protect itself.

Thank you Robyn for hosting. Have a great weekend!

More Treasures, Holiday Swap 2023

Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by Tracey Kiff Judson Here. Thank you Tracey! I hope, Tracey, that you are feeling well after your bout with the Green Goblin, Covid.

What is Poetry Friday? Find out here.

This week a lovely package arrived from my Swap Partner Carol Varsalona. She very cleverly wrapped it in photos about Syracuse, where she used to live, years ago. I was excited to receive it and I opened it gently to save the wrapping.

Inside were two poems, that I transcribed below , as well as a small candle and a Holiday Card.

One poem my Carol celebrated Christmas.

Oh Christmas,
You're the most wonderful
Time of the year.
A season of wonder and hope
Joyfully, we adorn thee,
Even with holiday 
hustle and bustle,
You bring warm cuddles.
Surround us with your guiding light,
So we might honor your holy night. 

CVarsalona 2023

Another poem celebrated Syracuse winter snow, which she had experienced first hand, showcasing the snow.

SYRACUSE WINTER
by Carol Varsalona 2023

In a dreamy landscape of powdered sugar,
Show dances before dropping and settling.
Each design enhances Earth's beauty
Until blizzard-like winds swoop across like eagle 
wings.

Snow dances before dropping and settling.
Syracuse snow knows no boundaries
Until blizzard-like winds swoop across like eagle 
wings
Touches each home and pathway.

Syracuse snow knows no boundaries,
Free-floating to the rhythm of the wind
Touching each home and pathway,
As choreographed by winter. 

Free-floating to the rhythm of the wind,
Snow playfully creates her own designs
As choreographed by Winter
In a dreamy landscape of powered sugar. 

But it’s been a while since Carol lived in Syracuse. Her poem highlights the beauty of snow. Snow is beautiful and this week we got a foot. But the climate has changed slowly. So I wrote this as a response, with a little sadness, because it is comforting for seasons to be relatively predictable.

CLIMATE CHANGE IN SYRACUSE JANUARY 2024

Snow used to come early
color everything white
now winter is mild.
Not frigid. Not wild.

Snow thick and fast,
a cold sparking treat
I admire less often
from my window seat.

Mild storms after New Years,
is lately the trend,
probably less in the future
no sign change will end. 

© Janice Scully 2024

This week I listened to Liz Cheney’s book OATH OF HONOR. It’s really fascinating and worth the time.

Have a great week! Thank you, Tracey, for hosting.

New Orleans and a Book by Ernest Gaines

Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by Haiku aficionado and artist, Marcie Flinchum Atkins Here. Last week she shared a video showcasing her fabulous haiku and photos. Thank you, Marcie, for hosting.

Today, I’ll share a few sights from New Orleans. I was there a month ago for a wedding but had plenty of time to acquaint myself with the French Quarter with all its non-stop music, art, and hospitality. (Sorry the photos are not my best.)

MERCHANTS IN THE FRENCH QUARTER

Artists show their work
in the shade of live oak trees
tourists stop, some buy.

© Janice Scully 2024

I heard wonderful music, especially Jazz everywhere. Indoors and outdoors.

IN THE FRENCH QUARTER

Clarinets and drums,
jambalaya and jamming--
an all day party. 
  

© Janice Scully 2024


I always look for a bookstore.

I like to buy at least one book when I travel and found this short novel by Ernest J. Gaines, A LONG DAY IN NOVEMBER.

Gaines is the author of A LESSON BEFORE DYING that I read years ago. I have never read another book by him.

A LONG DAY IN NOVEMBER is a tender book narrated by six year old Sonny, who during the 1940’s on a southern plantation where his parents chop sugarcane, finds himself in the middle of his impoverished parents separating. He is a charming, engaging character, as are his parents, and the story of his parents struggles, and how their fiery argument is resolved made for fascinating read, a quintessentially southern story. I loved the book! I recommend it, and I’m ready for another book by Earnest Gaines.

Happy New Year to everyone!

Elfchen poems

Welcome to Poetry Friday on this last Friday of the year. Thank you Michelle Kogan for hosting! Check in with her Here.

I was away last week visiting family. I hope everyone had a joyful holiday. Since our return, my husband feels under the weather. He’s OK, and so far is so far Covid negative but who knows? I’ve noticed that friends here and there are getting covid, though no one is very sick.

Let’s move on to elfchen poems.

This week I will contribute a few. The form is described Here. It’s a short five line poem and the directions made me think:

First line one word: A thought, object, a color, smell or the like.

Second line two words: What does the word from the first line do?

Third line three words: Where or how is the word from line one?

Fourth line four words: What do you mean?

Fifth line one word: What results? What is the conclusion?

I saw the most brilliant blue in the stained glass at the Sagrada Familia, a cathedral in Barcelona last year.

MEDITATION

blue
deep calm
colors evening skies
children will sleep tonight
peace

© Janice Scully (draft) 2023

Pumpkin pie with cinnamon.

PUMPKIN PIE

Cinnamon.
Holiday memory.
Ancient amygdala triggered.
Take a deep breath.
Delight.

© Janice Scully (draft) 2023

This lilac tree looks down for the count.

DREAMING OF SPRING

Lilac,
playing dead.
Gray,cold December.
Fragrant purple flowers gone.
Deceiving. 

© Janice Scully (draft) 2023

I have one last one I wrote after listening to a radio story here on the show 1-A, about laboratory grown, cultivated, chicken. It is worth a listen. Cultivated meat is being tested in two restaurants, one in San Francisco and in Washington D.C.

Chicken.
Lab grown.
No slaughter required.
Reportedly tastes the same.
Try?

©Janice Scully 2023

Since food production requiring slaughterhouses and the killing of animals contributes to 20% of green house emissions, it would be significant in the fight against global warming. I’d definitely try if it is ever available.

Well, as for the elfchen, I look forward to reading more. I found that most of my lines were end-stopped. I wasn’t sure to punctuate or not.

Happy New Year!

Poetry Friday is HERE: Christmas Haiku and Slippers.

Welcome everyone to Poetry Friday! Today I have the honor of being the host. I hope all of you and your loved ones are finding joy in this holiday season.

What is Poetry Friday? It is explained Here.

Christmas is moving along at my house. Our tree is decorated.

this young pine's branches
firmly grip fragile treasures--
as if it grew them.

©Janice Scully 2023

I made stollen with my friend, Leah, something we do every year together.

fresh Christmas stollen,
obviously sprung from snow,
not a hot oven.

© Janice Scully

But, in spite of a tree and baking, this doesn’t feel like an ordinary Christmas now that 2024 is around the corner. I feel unsettled, another word for free floating anxiety.

I wrote another poem, one that does not concern Christmas, but instead, Democracy.

TAKING DEMOCRACY FOR GRANTED

like slippers
so cleverly made 
that you can’t recall
having cold feet at all, 
 
until one day you jump out
of bed, put on your old slippers
and for the first time 
your feet feel 
the ice-cold kitchen floor!

You stare into the early silence,
vexed with regret  
because you never fixed 
that insidious hole,
           
and now
must replace 
the sole. 

© Janice Scully ©2023 (draft)

Have a happy holiday season! Add your blog to the list below. I look forward to reading them.

I thought I’d try writing an “Elfchen” poem or two this week. On Dec 29, the Poetry Sisters are sharing their “Elfchen” poems and invited the Poetry Friday community to give the form a try. See Tanita’s post Here. I found a description of the Elfchen from Here. It is a short poem, which of course doesn’t mean easy. I hope I’ll have one to share in two weeks.