Archive for the ‘Leftovers / Feedback / Miscellaneous’ Category

AUGUST: Sun, Sea & Flowers from Two Talented Seniors

Sunday, August 1st, 2021
NOTE: Here is a double posting from two very talented contemporaries. Diane Mattis, a photographer who captures flowers with great artistry and Mary Lou Meyers, a published poet/writer who has won awards for her poetry. I feel these two women are “gifts” in my life and want to share their talents on my website. They both have a strong love for Mother Nature.  The first is an update on Diane’s booth at an arts and craft fair here in PA with dates she will there. The second is a poem from my classmate Mary Lou Meyers.
Diane’s booth at the craft fair from a previous year
Here is the information for seeing Diane’s work, but you might also enjoy going directly to the North Star Orchard website to see all of the wonderful things they sell and the events that they produce for the community.
Address:  3232 Limestone Road (This is also Route 10.)
Cochranville, PA 19330
Phone:  484-502-7360
Dates and Hours:   Thursdays through Sundays, 10AM to 5PM
   August 5th through August 8th
   August 12th through August 15th
   August 19th through August 22nd, closing day
Diane will not be there every day of the show, but expects to be there on Opening Day, August 5th, and again for Meet the Artist on Saturday, August 7th from 10-3. Then again on the 14th or 15th, and on August 19th, and closing day, August 22nd.
There is no admission, but please note there is a short flight of stairs
to climb in order to see the art.
Contact Diane via email: dianemattis@mac.com
Here is a recent photo by Diane. For more photos, put Diane’s name in my SEARCH box for my postings of her work.
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Mary Lou is not only my classmate from Douglass College, but also also my virtual poet-in-residence. The ocean is such an important part of climate change that I thought this poem would be perfect for a posting.
Thanx, Mary Lou.
P.S. Photo from the Internet.
Luminosity by Mary Lou Meyers from her book, Floating Free published by Author House
Thesand caressed by ocean waves,
design imprinted;
mind drifts and plays in lazy waves,
back to the rhythm of life again,
magnified at the water line.
High rollers driven by moon and wind,
crashing through the shrouded veil,
giving way to our ponderous presence,
yielding to each footprint we make,
tracing, erasing, forever undoing
what we though was done,
all the while struggling for balance,
trying to gain a foothold in the sifting sand.
Our lives are circumscribed
like chromatic sediment settling in a dome.
Shape-shifters, lives sandwiched by the tide,
even our sand castle enterprise,
simplified;
uncovered, revealing hidden luminosity,
bare bones of shells bleached by the sun,
leaving their intricate patterned whorls undone.
(evolutionary genocide prevails),
expelled pearls and diamonds on the shoreline,
iridescent glass mirror of our fleeting likeness,
markers from afar magnetized by the stars.
Let us be as the moon shell spiraling
back to the self, our raw beginnings,
complete in our fetal positioning.
Though we often delude ourselves,
gravitate toward others, longing, giving, forgiving,
like the hermit crab scribing its presence in its new home,
aloneness is imbedded in our bones.
Like silver gulls, we stare at our reflection
in the sheen of the wet sand.
Impenetrable we remain.
How easily we lose our grip as the ocean strips us.
Is there something we can take from breakers
whittling its treasures into shape?
Shattered rainbows are born from the spray
where waves are torn asunder.
Our lives forever emptying, flotsam and debris,
open arms awaiting the ocean’s embrace,
rinsed clean, restored to its energy,
forever weaving its magic spell of renewal.
The double sunrise shell is our surprise,
hinged like the wings of a butterfly,
fragile perfection internalized.
It represents the outer image and inner soul,
perfectly matched and in control,
how few remain whole.
We take with us the conch shell,
once trumpet of the Tritons,
now siren, indelible witness,
inviolable presence,
the look, smell, and sound of the sea,
forever a part of our solitary existence,
part of the mystery.  

 

Lest We Forget: A Memorial Day Poem by Harvey Paul Davis

Monday, May 31st, 2021

Note: Harvey Davis is in the Creative Writing Class that is held virtually from New Horizons, the local senior center. We both belong. This is his Memorial Day poem, which I want to share with you, since I believe he hits the nail on the head! Harvey, in his mid-nineties, also authored a book I reviewed around election time called We the People. Go to the Search Box on my website, www.menupause.info, and type in We the People and that posting of the review will pop up.

Photos are my choices from the Internet.

Lest We Forget

Memorial Day is coming up; let me ask you, what do you plan to do?
I see a stack of papers on your table; will that give me a clue?
That barbecue grill I see circled, is that something for you to buy?
Are you planning on this Memorial Day to barbecue and give it a try?

Perhaps you are planning a trip to visit a relative you have not seen for a while.
Perhaps a trip to the familiar Jersey shore, while the weather is still mild.
Perhaps lounging around with neighbors you have not chatted with recently.
Perhaps just taking it easy, planning nothing as all (your hope secretly).

On past Memorial Days the things listed above would have been my approach.
Ideas like honoring martyrs of the wars would not on my plans encroach,
Until last year when sickness, isolation and death were out of control,
And families were separated by disease and death; no one there who could console.

 

On the last Memorial Day, I sat in my wheelchair, lonely and ill at ease.
A pandemic was raging, and I could do nothing that would please.
There would be no celebration on this day; other things were on our minds.
To think of anything but ourselves was not the way that we were inclined.

I am determined that this Memorial Day will be different; take me at my word.
I plan to make up for what happened last year, believe me, I’m not being absurd.
I want you to join with me to make this a real and authentic celebration,
Once again to remember those who gave their lives without any hesitation.

 

 

A short history lesson might be important before our celebration will begin.
After the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, perhaps something done on a whim,
Flowers were placed on his grave – one thought on how Memorial Day began.
There are other stories, no one is sure, and I’m really not an historian.

It was around the end of the Civil War that the tradition took hold.
A day was set aside when the heroism of our fallen soldiers was told.
Honor was properly given to the sacrifice that all of them made.
It did not matter the land of ancestry, their skin color or its shade.

Unfortunately, there were many wars to follow; I will name just a few:
The Spanish-American War, World War l, and of course World War ll.
Then the more recent wars, where our children and grandchildren died,
Who went off to fight; sadly, we really did not have time to say good-bye.

This Memorial Day we will honor each and every one with sincerity and grace.
Together let us all take a moment, on this day at this time and in this place,
To think about the great sacrifice that all of them made, with our deep regret.
It is fitting, and they certainly deserve this honor and respect, lest we forget.