Imagine the Possibilities

Welcome to Poetry Friday! Michelle has the roundup today here where she is celebrating May birthdays, including her own. Be sure to stop by for lots of poetry goodness.

Recently I wrote a Poetry Friday post about finding a white and brown spotted egg in one of my bluebird nesting boxes, along with four bluebird eggs. I am sad to report that things didn’t work out well. More tragic was the news this week of the passing of poet and children’s author, Katey Howes. I feel these two events are related somehow. Katey will be missed by many in more ways than I can count, but especially by her family. This post is dedicated to them.

I felt a haibun would be an appropriate form. A haibun is a combination of prose and poetry. It begins with a narrative or personal passage that describes an experience, a scene, or a memory. It concludes with a haiku that acts as a snapshot of the prose passage.

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Researchers report that bluebirds can come to know the faces of their caregivers as well as recognize their voices. I remembered this when I started noticing Fred, my male bluebird, perched on the patio chair each morning. Sometimes I’d see him sitting on a low tree branch or the roof of the nest box. This behavior was not unusual, except that Fred didn’t seem in a hurry to leave as I approached and addressed him in a soft voice. After a few days, I realized I hadn’t seen Ginger (his mate) lately.
I wondered.
I hoped.
I checked the nest box.
Inside I found only two bluebird eggs. The others, including the odd spotted one, were on the ground, under the hydrangea bush. I took a deep breath, then placed my fingers on the two remaining eggs.
Cold.
I believe something happened to Ginger and that Fred was trying to tell me of this loss. I mourn with him, and for all who have lost precious family members.

bluebird sings alone
his grief as wide as the sky
healing broken hearts

Welcome to Poetry Friday!

Last week Linda at A Word Edgewise invited us to exchange clunkers. She offered an array of short lines discarded or revised from various poems and offered them up for anyone to snatch and use in exchange for one of theirs.

I belong to a book group with ladies I have known since our kids were young. Together we’ve been through births, deaths, illnesses, marriages, divorce, and everyday ups and downs. We kept going during COVID with the advantage of technology and now use it to include one of our members who moved to South Carolina. We take turns meeting at each other’s houses, and when we are at my house, the sunroom is often our space. So, as soon as I read “In the sunroom, our old lady faces” I knew that was the clunker for me. I even dreamt the perfect poem, but of course in the morning I couldn’t remember it. At least the idea was still there.

Book Group

friends for more than thirty-five years,
we gather in the sunroom,
our old lady faces
bearing the effects of the lives we’ve lived—
exuberant joy
heart wrenching worry
devastating loss

perhaps it’s books that saved us,
or at least brought us together,
anchoring us to each other
sharing the wisdom of words
Draft, 2024Rose Cappelli

Image is from pixy.org.

Patricia has the roundup today at Reverie where she shares the joy of being part of something larger while planting pine seedlings. Be sure to stop by for lots of poetry goodness.

Happy Poetry Friday! Linda has the round up today at her blog A Word Edgewise where she is hosting a clunker exchange. Linda graciously posted a list of lines she didn’t use for one reason or another – a clunker. You can take one and weave it into a poem and leave one of yours for her to work some magic with.

One early morning last week I was sitting on our enclosed porch when I was startled to see Fred, my male bluebird, excitedly flying close to the window – a new behavior. He landed on the ledge and peered in. It was as if he were trying to get my attention. I knew there was some nest building going on in one of the boxes, so I investigated. Inside I found an egg, but it wasn’t a bluebird egg. After some further investigation I determined that it was most likely a cowbird egg. There’s an abundance of advice available on the internet, some conflicting, so I wasn’t sure what to do. I decided to listen to the bluebirds and follow their lead.

Something New    

The bluebird peered in the window
as if calling for my attention,
as if calling Come and see!

Yesterday,
nothing occupied
the perfect pine needle nest
in the box by the hydrangeas.

Today,
one white and brown spotted egg
nestled in the soft bed.
Was this the cause of the
What to do! excitement?

Later,
a pale blue egg rested
next to the first.

Like the bluebirds,
I’ll let nature take its course.
Draft, 2024RoseCappelli

Not a great picture, but there are now four bluebird eggs in addition to the one from the visitor. I’ll keep you posted.

I finished up the last day of my April Poetry project (Call and Response: Picture Books and Poetry) at a personal writing retreat at the Highlights Foundation with a wonderful group of other writers. I didn’t take any picture books with me, knowing that I would have access to many in the Barn as well as in my cabin. I decided to be surprised, and I wasn’t disappointed. In my cabin that first morning I found an older picture book by Pat Brisson and Maryann Cocoa-Leffler titled Wanda’s Roses. It was published in 1994 by Boyds Mills Press (fitting!), and to my knowledge is still in print. At almost 1500 words, it gives itself away as an older publication, yet the themes of community, persistence, and hope are as current today as they were 30 years ago. Wanda is a delightful character who mistakes a thorn bush in a vacant lot for a rose bush. When she insists that soon there will be roses, the community supports her optimism. The book is not about healing or grief, but that is where my thoughts took me.

Keep an Open Heart

because a heart can be like a thorny bush
growing in a vacant lot
surrounded by debris
until love,
knowing the depths of possibility,
discovers how
to nourish and heal
Draft, RoseCappelli2024

Buffy has the roundup today here. Be sure to stop by for lots of poetry fun and where you will meet a hognose snake.

Welcome to Poetry Friday! Ruth has the roundup today where she is celebrating eighteen years at her blog and dreaming about Haiti. Be sure to stop by for lots of poetry goodness.

Today I offer two new-to me poetry forms as entries to my April Poetry Project: “Call and Response: Picture Books and Poetry.” The first response is a trinet which I first learned about from poetry friend Alan J. Wright. A trinet is composed of seven lines. Lines three and four have six words each; all other lines have two words. My trinet is in response to the picture book Listen by Holly McGhee and Pascal Lemaitre.

For the Heart

your heart
can hold
the memory of people and places
the wonder of sun and stars
with plenty
of room
for more
Draft, 2024RoseCappelli

After hearing about the pensee on posts from Buffy Silverman and Marcie Flinchum Atkins, I wanted to give it a try. The pensee has 5 lines of 2-4-7-8-6 syllables respectively. Each line has a specific job:

Line 1—introduces subject
Line 2—description of subject
Line 3—action taken by subject or for subject; has a verb
Line 4—info about time and setting
Line 5—final thoughts

I wrote “Henna” as a response to the picture book A Garden in My Hands by Meera Sriram and Sandhya Prabhat.

Henna

henna
ancient plant dye
dropped and swirled on waiting hands
for a wedding celebration
a garden of stories
Draft, 2024RoseCappelli

Thanks for stopping by and enjoy this last Friday in poetry’s special month.