Imagine the Possibilities

It’s Poetry Friday!

I had a houseful of family for Thanksgiving – just the kind of holiday I love. My niece, who had just gotten in from a quick trip to Florence, arrived with a beautiful shawl for me. It was so soft I didn’t want to put it down. She said it made her think of me. Perhaps it was the pastel yellows and blues, or maybe the tulips that reminded her of me. Whatever it was, it was joyous that someone thought of me in such a special way. I noticed today that there is a small bee in the design that I didn’t see at first. Perhaps the bee thought it special, too, to be noticed.

The Gift

Tulips dance on threads
of soft yellow and blue,
wrapping me in warmth,
cuddling me in care,
and all the while the bee beckons.
Draft, RoseCappelli2024

Right after Thanksgiving, I always marvel at the number of cars traveling with trees tied to their roofs. I posted this poem a few years ago, but it seemed to be an appropriate time to revisit it.

A Caravan of Trees

After Thanksgiving I start to see
a caravan of Christmas trees.
Perfectly picked or freshly cut,
secured on car roofs,
bundled with care.
Will they have lights
or strands of gold?
Perhaps they’ll be topped
with a shining star.
A season of peace and hope begins
with a caravan of trees.
Draft, RoseCappelli2021

In this busy season, I hope you are able to take some time to think warm thoughts. Carol has the roundup today at The Apples in My Orchard. Be sure to stop by for lots of poetry goodness.

It’s Poetry Friday!

I was prompted recently to reread Out of the Dust by Karen Hesse, remembering the powerful list poem near the end, “Thanksgiving List.” I remember thinking the first time I read it how uplifting it was that among all of the sadness and turmoil, Billie Jo was still able to find much to be thankful for. Out of the Dust is written in verse and is one of those books where I have many pages flagged. Each poem contributes to the story, but many of them can stand alone. One of those is “Boxes” in which Billie Jo recalls the gatherings of her life that her mother packed away. Those two poems by Karen Hesse brought to mind another list poem, “What Shall I Pack in the Box Marked Summer?” by Bobbi Katz that I used in my teaching days. Here are the beginning lines:

A handful of wind that I caught with a kite
A firefly’s flame in the dark of the night
The green grass of June that I tasted with toes
The flowers I knew from the tip of my nose
The clink of the ice cubes in pink lemonade
The fourth of July Independence parade!
…

Inspired to write a list poem about autumn, I reread my daily (almost) snippets for the last few months to recall some of the wonders of autumn I noticed and what I might pack away to remember.

Packing Up Autumn

sapphire skies aching with blue
shadows, long and lacy
days as warm as buttered pancakes
nights, cool and frosty
purple-black juice
on berry-bursting bushes
the mantis nest snug in the dogwood
that one red leaf among the brown
milkweed covered in cotton down
a sliver of moon-glow in a midnight sky
as autumn waves goodbye
Draft, 2024RoseCappelli

Ruth has the roundup today coming all the way from Uganda at her blog here. Be sure to stop by for lots of poetry goodness.

It’s Poetry Friday!

The leaves of the cherry tree in our back yard usually turn a fiery orange. That lasts about a week or so, then they all drop at once, sometimes seemingly overnight. But this year is different. The leaves on the outside have turned, but the inside leaves, the ones closest to the heart of the tree, are still green. It could be because of the lack of rain this season, or maybe the warmer temperatures, but to me it’s as if the tree is in denial, keeping something hidden to protect it.

If my poem for today strikes you as having a political undertone, it was unintentional (except “perhaps” on some unconscious level). The photo is the tree from last November, in all its fiery glory.

Perhaps

The maples know they must let go,
do what must be done.
But the cherry, oh the cherry,
she just pretends to understand.

Tipped with orange,
cherry hides what green remains,
holds it close,
protects the calm,
unprepared for the harsh to come.

Trees are survivors,
perhaps we are, too.
Draft, 2024RoseCappelli

Karen has the round up today here where she shares a hopeful poem by Ellen Bass. Be sure to stop by to fill your heart with lots of poetry goodness.

There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. We speak, we write, we do language. That is how civilizations heal.
-Toni Morrison

This isn’t the post I was expecting to write. Numb. Shell-shocked. Devastated. These are all adjectives I’ve heard to describe the feelings many of us have this week. I have them, too. On Wednesday I wanted to scream and cry, but I also wanted to write. It is often through writing that we can begin to understand.

On her post for This Photo Wats to Be a Poem, Margaret invited small poems in response to a photo of votive candles in a church. Inspired by her words, I wrote, then reworked a poem about hope I had written during the pandemic. That day I also had a conversation with my cello teacher (who also happens to be a writer). All that inspiration and all those ideas joined together in my poem for today.

Aftermath

In the shadow of what came to be
may we find comfort in
the warmth of the sun,
the glow of the moon,
the laughter of children,
the song of the wren.
And may we move forward
planting love, not hate,
growing truth, not lies,
sowing hope, not fear.
Draft, 2024RoseCappelli

Thanks for stopping by today. Cathy has the round up today at Merely Day by Day. Be sure to stop by for lots of poetry goodness.

Welcome to Poetry Friday!

“Goats have a special capacity for friendship and companionship both to humans and each other. They form inseparable friendships while foraging during the heat of the sun, or snuggled close to each other at night.” – Andre Harvey (1941-2018), American Sculptor

I’ve written many times about the beauty of Longwood Gardens, but I don’t think I ever wrote about Chloe and Lucinda, two goats sculpted in bronze that reside in a small area of the Gardens. When I walk through the gardens, I often find myself stopping by to admire them and soak up their energy. They were sculpted by Andre Harvey, a local artist who was inspired by his childhood growing up in a rural area of southeastern Pennsylvania. I love their simplicity and the way they express such kindness and love for each other.

Yesterday Chloe and Lucinda inspired me to write this triolet. I have a few friends who are going through difficult times right now, so I dedicate this poem to them.

Two Friends

Kindness and love from two special friends
cast in bronze, part of my heart.
Weighing life struggles and need for amends,
kindness and love from two special friends.
Thoughts dispersed like light that bends
lifting spirits, worries depart.
Kindness and love from two special friends
cast in bronze, part of my heart.
Draft, 2024RoseCappelli

Carol has the round up today at Beyond LiteracyLink where she invites readers to relax and reflect in autumn’s splendor. Be sure to stop by for lots of poetry goodness.