“What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? / The world would split open.”
Poet Muriel Rukeyser

Thursday, August 09, 2007

A progressive poetry party....

kinda like a progressive dinner party, one course here, the next course there...you can find another poem

Ghalib, a poet (1797-1869)

For the raindrop, joy is in entering the river -
Unbearable pain becomes its own cure.

Travel far enough into sorrow, tears turn to sighing;
In this way we learn how water can die into air.

When, after heavy rain, the stormclouds disperse,
Is it not that they've wept themselves clear to the end?

If you want to know the miracle, how wind can polish a mirro,
Look: the shining glass grows green in spring.

It's the rose's unfolding, Ghalib, that creates the desire to see-
In every color and circumstance, may the eyes be open for what

More Vacation?

This week my vacation has been:
Painting. My son's bedroom was last painted when we moved here 6 years ago. It was a light blue, nice for a 4th grader, but too young looking for someone who is a sophomore. So we painted it. We did a dark blue glaze over the pale blue on three walls. One small wall at the doorway is yellow and another wall is red. It's cool looking. He has a loveseat in his room that is slipcovered in red fabric. I'm going to go to IKEA and look for bed linens and curtains. IKEA's catalogue shows sheets in a rectangular patterned red, blue, green, yellow on white, which were the inspiration for the room. I may get those.

My daughter also decided to paint her room. She went from the funky tangerine on cream "sponge" colored walls with peach and cream chiffon swag curtains to pale yellow walls with white trim. She is refinishing her furniture in a glossy black. It will look really great when it's finished.

In the mean time, the house I worked so hard to clean last week is now cluttered with furniture. In the upstairs hallway. And my kitchen, since it is off of the deck where the furniture was painted, and since it's been raining torrents, a black dresser and mirror. (Oh well).

It's been an ambitious week.

Also, I've been reading a lot.

Anita Shreve: Eden Close, The Last Time We Met, and (next) The Weight of Water
Judith Merkle Riley: A Vision of Light, In Pursuit of the Green Lion
Anne Lamott: Hard Laughter, New People
Kris Radish: The Elegant Gathering of White Snows

Poetry by Billy Collins and Mary Oliver

I stopped into the church once. Not bad since I live next door. (I had to get one of our paint trays which we loaned the church awhile back)....

I've checked my messages once. Nothing major.

I noticed: no one has bothered to bring in the mail. No one has bothered to water the plants. no one has bothered to clean up the stuff from our last outdoor service two weeks ago. Even though there volunteers who are supposed to do this and even though one person told me she would stop by....Small church mentality persists, the priest does all...yeesh.

I think I'm making strides, and then I think, no. Some things never change...but since I am on vacation, I'll deal with that next week.

Tomorrow, play day. We're going into Chicago to play. The weather, after too much rain, is predicted to be