Words and more words

 In the depths of silence

Where the words reside

A symphony of whispers

Waiting to be untied

Unspoken dreams dancing in the moonlit air

A tapestry of emotions

Woven with utmost care

The pen

A conduit

Pouring feelings like rain

A language of the soul

Where thoughts are unchained

Each syllable a brushstroke

Painting vivid scenes

Unleashing the power hiding within the seams

 

Words have power

They ignite the spark (ignite the spark)

They speak the truth

Lighting up the dark (up the dark)

An echo of emotion

Resonating deep inside (inside)

Through the verses

Our hearts collide

The mirror of memories

 In the mosaic of olden days, reflections unfold,

The rearview mirror of memories, a tale to be told.

Highs and lows painted on the canvas of time,

A masterpiece of life, an intricate rhyme.

 

Laughter and tears, like brushstrokes so bold,

In the gallery of recollections, stories are scrolled.

People, once vivid, in my journey they played,

A tapestry of connections and memories laid.

 

Some departed, like whispers in the wind,

Time's gentle teacher, lessons chime within.

No rewind button in life's relentless track,

A realization dawns, no going back.

 

Parents, like anchors, in the corridors reside,

Their absence echoes a bittersweet tide.

Friends who once walked, are now shadows cast,

In the heart's album, memories forever last.

 

Time, the silent sculptor shapes the past,

Moments slip away, yet memories amass.

A lesson learned, as the years gently hover,

The importance of memories for those who discover.

 

In the tapestry of age, threads interlace,

A symphony of memories, in time and space.

For seniors, each recollection is a treasure trove,

An ode to the past, and a testament to love.

Time passages

 A song by Al Stewart called Time Passages was playing in the background and these thoughts leapt to my mind. Enjoy.

In the tapestry of time, I sit and reflect,

From the barely started day to the evening's sweet sunset.

Mondays to Fridays, a seamless blend,

Years passing swiftly, like a transient wind.

 

Forty, fifty, sixty years unfold,

A lifetime's story in moments told.

Highs and lows, laughter and tears,

People departed, echoes in my ears.

 

Parents, friends, their absence profound,

Realizing too late, that time has its bounds.

Yet, amidst losses, a spirit to find,

To embrace what's left, with a positive mind.

 

The canvas of life awaits our hue,

Colours of joy, moments to renew.

Smile at the little things, a balm in the heart,

In the symphony of life, play your part.

 

Afters accumulate, promises fade,

Coffee grows cold in the shade.

Children grow, parents age,

Life concludes its final stage.

 

No more 'after,' no more delay,

Seize the moment, live for today.

Cherish the best, let love be our guide,

In the tapestry of life, let joy reside.

 

Eliminate the afters, embrace the now,

No more 'later,' no more 'how.'

The day is today, the moment is here,

In this shared wisdom, there's nothing to fear.

 

Read this message, share it wide,

In collective strength, let joy be our guide.

For in the poetry of life, a truth profound,

The time is now, in every heartbeat's sound.

All slang is metaphor and each generation has it own

Imagine life as a vast, ever-changing landscape, and the way you navigate it is through the lens of metaphors – colourful expressions and symbols that capture the essence of your experiences. G. K. Chesterton once said, "All slang is a metaphor, and all metaphor is poetry." This implies that the language we use, especially slang, is not just a casual tool for communication but a poetic expression that shapes our understanding of the world.

Now, let's consider the different generations, like Boomers and young people, as travelers on this metaphorical journey. Each generation crafts its own set of metaphors, its unique slang, to interpret and communicate their experiences. It's like they're writing their own poetry, using words and expressions that resonate with the rhythms of their time.

For Boomers, the poetry of life is woven with the threads of shared history – events like Woodstock, the moon landing, civil rights movements, and technological revolutions. These experiences have shaped the metaphors that Boomers use to understand the world. Phrases like "peace and love," "flower power," and "the American dream" are part of the linguistic landscape they've cultivated over the years.

On the other hand, young people, the torchbearers of today's generation, are sculpting their own poetry. Their metaphors are more digital, reflective of a world marked by smartphones, social media, and rapid technological advancements. Expressions like "Netflix and chill," "FOMO," and "on fleek" carry the weight of their experiences and aspirations, shaping a different narrative for the world they inhabit.

The challenge arises when these different generations with their unique metaphors and poetic expressions interact. It's crucial to recognize that each metaphor is a lens through which an individual or a generation sees the world. Just as a 14-year-old might find it hard to decipher the slang and metaphors of a 77-year-old, the reverse is also true. It's like trying to translate poetry from one language to another – the beauty and nuances can get lost in translation.

Respect becomes the bridge between these generations. Boomers have traveled through decades, accumulating a wealth of experiences and metaphors that define their worldview. Meanwhile, young people are exploring uncharted territories, crafting metaphors that resonate with the contemporary landscape. The wisdom of age and the vitality of youth can complement each other if there's an openness to understanding the unique poetry each generation brings to the table.

So, as you define the poetry of your life, acknowledge that the metaphors you choose to live by are deeply personal and shaped by the times in which you live. Embrace the diversity of metaphors, recognizing that the ever-evolving language of life is a collaborative effort, with each generation contributing its own verse to the grand narrative of existence.

The Road not taken

 “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost is often misunderstood as a poem that celebrates individualism and the idea of forging one’s own path in life. However, a closer reading of the poem reveals that this interpretation is too simplistic.

The speaker of the poem faces a choice between two paths and ultimately chooses the less travelled one.

There is a position that the two roads in “The Road Not Taken” are interchangeable, and it is valid, as the text of the poem supports it. As the speaker himself notes, the two paths “equally lay / In leaves” and “the passing there / Had worn them really about the same.”

The poem’s speaker tells us he “shall be telling,” in the future, of how he took the road less travelled, yet he has already admitted that the two paths “equally lay / In leaves” and “the passing there / Had worn them really about the same.” So, the road he will later call less travelled is actually the road equally travelled. The two roads are interchangeable.

The title of the poem emphasizes the path not taken and reinforces that the speaker is not celebrating the idea of taking the less-travelled path for its own sake but using the idea as a metaphor for the choices we make in life.

Taking the road less travelled is also significant. This suggests that he sees his choice as important and worth remembering, even if the two paths were interchangeable in terms of their level of use.

Overall, while the idea that the two paths in the poem are interchangeable may challenge some interpretations of the poem as a celebration of individualism, it does not negate the idea that the poem is about making choices and taking risks in life.

The poem is not just about the importance of individual choice. In fact, the poem acknowledges both paths were equally “worn” and that the speaker will never return to the one he did not take. The final stanza of the poem is moving:

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I —

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

The speaker’s use of the word “sigh” implies regret about his choice, and one can read the line “And that has made all the difference” in different ways - as either a positive or negative statement.

The poem’s title itself, “The Road Not Taken,” suggests that the speaker is also thinking about the path he did not take. This adds to the complexity of the poem and suggests that it is not a celebration of individualism.

In conclusion, while “The Road Not Taken” may seem like a straightforward celebration of individualism, a deeper reading of the poem reveals a more complex and nuanced message. The poem acknowledges the importance of individual choice but also recognizes that these choices can be difficult and come with regret. As we look back over our lives how many of us think about the choices we made and the ones we celebrate and the ones we regret?

 

Poetic meditations, on the mystery of dark matter

Some whimsy to start the weekend with my attempt at a poem about dark matter followed by a poem by Rebecca Anne Wood Elson a Canadian–American astronomer and writer about the same subject.

Dark matter, a mystery still unsolved

A substance that scientists have evolved

To understand and decipher its code

But still, it remains a heavy load

It holds the galaxies in its grip

Yet we cannot see it or even nip

A tiny piece to study and analyze

It remains elusive, a cosmic surprise

 

Some say it's made of particles unseen

Others believe it's a glitch, a dream

But one thing is certain, it's out there

A force that shapes the universe, beyond compare

 

We may never fully understand

The nature of this cosmic band

But that doesn't stop us from trying

To unlock its secrets, endlessly prying

 

So let us meditate on this enigma

A puzzle that may never be solved

But the search for answers is a noble quest

One that keeps us moving, never at rest

 

LET THERE ALWAYS BE LIGHT (SEARCHING FOR DARK MATTER)

by Rebecca Elson

For this we go out dark nights, searching

For the dimmest stars,

For signs of unseen things:

 

To weigh us down.

To stop the universe

From rushing on and on

Into its own beyond

Till it exhausts itself and lies down cold,

It's last star going out.

 

Whatever they turn out to be,

Let there be swarms of them,

Enough for immortality,

Always a star where we can warm ourselves.

 

Let there be enough to bring it back

From its own edges,

To bring us all so close we ignite

The bright spark of resurrection.

Walks through Victoria BC trails

My brother has set up a series of videos of his walks through the trails around his hometown,  the city of Victoria, BC, Canada, which are available on YouTube He has to-date uploaded 7 videos and they are fun to watch. Please take a look at his videos and subscribe to them.

In each video, he tells a bit of the history of the trail or tells a story or recites children’s poetry. Here are the videos and links to them

Lake Ida Anne SD 480p Lake Ida Anne and Sechfield trail. The video is taken in Langford a town outside of Victoria. The trail is shot with a time-lapse camera. The walk is short, but it feels like a real forest trail even though houses surround the trail. Lake Ida Anne is a city fishing lake. It is stocked with catchable-sized trout. Children, families and the handicapped can easily fish there. Every year children are taught to fish on this lake.

Esquimalt Lagoon in Colwood close to Victoria, B.C. It is a park and migratory bird sanctuary. Two comments from viewers state: Most interesting and enjoyable. Wonderful storytelling. Your rendition of "Sea Fever" by John Masefield was pleasingly appropriate. A very descriptive video. The scenery is beautiful! Very well done and you are a natural talker!! Good job! Looking for more videos from u!

Still, Lake Video Plus Story This video is a still lake video with the natural sounds of the lake in the background. I will also read the first ten pages of the novel "Li" as the video of the lake continues.

Millstream Creek trail follows the creek through a suburban forest. We pass a school and a playground. There is also a nut tree and a crab apple tree. My favourite part of the trail is the wooden bridge crossing the creek about 3/4 way through the trail. I have included a poem about recycling in the audio.

Upper Thetis Lake trail off of this trail is the Seaborne trail that goes to Munz Road. I also read children's Mother Goose poetry that is updated to include today's world including Covid. This video has good views of the forest.

Rainbows

 I believe in the idea of the rainbow. And I've spent my entire life trying to get over it. Judy Garland

What does it mean to believe in the idea of the rainbow? Is the idea of the rainbow as some would believe a pathway to find a pot of gold? Or is it a metaphor for trying to find something beyond your reach or capability to achieve? Is it as the ancient Greeks believed a foreteller of storms and wars? Or is it as the Hebrews believe a sign that there will be no more massive floods? The Norse believed the rainbow was a bridge upon which their gods took to go home after spending time on earth. Some believe it is a miracle with no explanation.

The rainbow inspires metaphor and simile both in poetry and in song. In Rainbow Connection, a song known for being sung by Kermit the Frog, the idea of a rainbow is seen as something to wish on, as it is popularly seen as a vision, or symbol of hope.

During COVID-19 The rainbow was adopted as a symbol of hope, especially during periods of lockdown. Households worldwide displayed homemade images of rainbows in their windows, often alongside positive messages.

The rainbow is now a symbol of ethnic and racial diversity. Various Rainbow Coalition movements have used the rainbow as a metaphor for bringing together people from a broad spectrum of races and creeds.

Richard Dawkins; in his 1998 book Unweaving the Rainbow: Science, Delusion and the Appetite for Wonder, wrote:

My title is from Keats, who believed that Newton had destroyed all the poetry of the rainbow by reducing it to the prismatic colours. Keats could hardly have been more wrong, and my aim is to guide all who are tempted by a similar view, towards the opposite conclusion. Science is, or ought to be, the inspiration for great poetry.

The poet Woodsworth has a poem that says

My heart leaps up when I behold

A rainbow in the sky:

So was it when my life began;

So is it now I am a man;

So be it when I shall grow old,

Or let me die!..

John Keats in his 1820 poem "Lamia":

Do not all charms fly

At the mere touch of cold philosophy?

There was an awful rainbow once in heaven:

We know her woof, her texture; she is given

In the dull catalogue of common things.

Philosophy will clip an Angel's wings,

Conquer all mysteries by rule and line,

Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine –

Unweave a rainbow

Whatever your views of rainbows are, when you see one, just enjoy the beauty of the rainbow

 

Not

Not a poem by Erin Hanson

Erin is an Australian poet who wrote this in about 2014this is a poem about self-acceptance and self-love. It is also an anthem for the self-judged. We spend all our lives doing things for others, living for others, and praising others. We spend so much time dwelling over what people have to say about our personalities and our appearances. A lot of us also spend so long trying to live the dreams of others and live their lives. But what about us? What about caring for yourself a little more and loving yourself a lot more no matter what age you are.

You can find more of her poetry here:  https://www.facebook.com/e.h.thepoeticunderground/

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Not 

You are not your age,

Nor the size of clothes you wear,

You are not your weight,

or the colour of your hair.

You are not your name,

Or the dimples in your cheeks.

You are all the books you read,

And all the words you speak,

You are your creaky-morning voice,

 the smiles you try to hide,

You are the sweetness in your laughter,

and every tear you've cried,

You are the songs you sing so loudly

Whenever you know you're alone

You're the places that you've been to,

and the one that you call home,

You’re the things that you believe in,

And the people that you love,

You're the photos in your bedroom,

And the future that you dream of'

You’re made of so much beauty

But it-seems that you forgot

When you decided that you were defined,

By the things you're not

All slang is a metaphor, and all metaphor is poetry

All slang is a metaphor, and all metaphor is poetry. G. K. Chesterton, Defendant (1901)

Slang changes as young people define their own metaphors for life and the times we are in helps define the story of our life as well. Today we are living in a "new normal". In 1918 -1919 our grandparents lived in a "new normal". Each generation lives in a new normal as society changes around us. In the great war, in the Pandemic that followed changed society, but no one, at that time, said people will have to die to keep the economy going. That statement is so sad and I feel sorry for the people that think that way. The poetry of their life must be dark and dreary. 

However, my hope is that for the rest of us the poetry of life is full of life. I recognize that for the young the poetry of their life is not the same as for the Boomers, nor is our poetry of life the same as our Seniors.

How do you define the poetry of your life? What metaphors do you use to define your world, to build the paradigm in which you shape your view of the world? I think we Boomers have worked hard to define the slang that defined our world, the metaphors that create our poetry, and in my mind how we view the world. 

Everyone has different metaphors that help them define their world, but the Boomers have shared some common history that has helped define us. We watched as man landed on the moon for the first time, we huddled under desks as we prepared for nuclear war, we believed that we would not live into our 30's because the Americans and the Russians would start the war that would destroy the world. We watched the American Dream unravel as President Kennedy was assassinated, and most of us saw the horror of war on TV as we watched young men our age, fighting in a foreign land, that we knew nothing about. We wrestled with these and other problems,  Billy Joel in his wonderful song "We didn't start the fire" gives a brief outline of the history of our times and I think shows the forces that helped the Boomers develop the slang to create the metaphors of our life.

Each one of us reacted to the events of our lives and in the process, created the poetry of our lives, which we passed on to our children, who created their own poetry and metaphors for life--shaped, we hope, by our experiences. The nice thing about being a grandparent is we should try to understand the poetry and metaphors of our lives and pass these metaphors on to our grandchildren, so our children can dream and change the metaphors and poetry of their lives so that the dream of a positive future can live again.

Changes

Today I am responding to another challenge from Eugenia at BrewNSpew Her challenge was to write a five-line poem with the word changes in it. Here is my effort.

Heartache

Changes what I have

Changes what I want

Changes my beliefs, dreams and reality

My heart becomes a hazy shade of winter 

Pity the Nation

I came across this poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti, and I thought I would share, Ferlinghetti is the author of more than thirty books of poetry, including Time of Useful Consciousness (New Directions, 2012); Poetry as Insurgent Art (New Directions, 2007. 

Lawrence Ferlinghetti:

Pity the nation whose people are sheep,
and whose shepherds mislead them,
Pity the nation whose leaders are liars, whose sages are silenced,
and whose bigots haunt the airwaves.
Pity the nation that raises not its voice,
except to praise conquerors and acclaim the bully as hero
and aims to rule the world with force and by torture.
Pity the nation that knows no other language but its own
and no other culture but its own.
Pity the nation whose breath is money
and sleeps the sleep of the too well fed.
Pity the nation — oh, pity the people who allow their rights to erode
and their freedoms to be washed away.
My country, tears of thee, sweet land of liberty.

Chunk what we learn

We learn faster if we chunk what we have to learn, I was told the other day. I dance but not well, so I was told that if I wanted to learn to dance, I should chunk the dance moves. Learn the first eight steps, then the next eight, and then finally put them together and you will have learned the dance. Easy to say hard to do. So, if you go first and reach for the fruit; I'll shake the tree.  We will do a little dance; I'll add some music.

I think it might be the same as we move toward our dreams. Try chunking the steps you make, first move in the direction of your dreams, even though at first nothing seems to happen;  as we move the stars will align we will connect the dots, trim the hedge, move some mountains, float the boat, and see you at the ball. Where we will dance to your dreams

I love the world as a metaphor and metaphorically speaking you can dance at the ball, even as you build your dreams one chunk at a time.

Some poetry for a Saturday night

From The Selected Poems of Nikki Giovanni: 1968–1995  Enjoy

LOVE IS 

Some people forget that love is

tucking you in and kissing you

"Good night"

No matter how young or old you are

Some people don't remember that

love is

listening and laughing and asking

questions

no matter what your age

Few recognize that love is

commitment, responsibility

no fun at all

unless

Love is

You and me

A POEM OF FRIENDSHIP

We are not lovers

because of the love

we make

but the love

we have

We are not friends

because of the laughs

we spend

but the tears

we save

I don't want to be near you

for the thoughts we share

but the words we never have

to speak

I will never miss you

because of what we do

but what we are

together

Poetry on retirement and women

I ran across an interesting site of Poems about retirement and women. The site offers a numer of free eBook download at  MyBookezzz.org This site has some interesting books and I would recommend it.

Thoughts on a summer day

"If you are a poet, you will see clearly that there is a cloud floating in this sheet of paper."

 - Thich Nhat Hanh from Peace Is Every Step - The Path of Mindfulness in Everyday Life

If you are not a poet, then  you will only see a blank sheet of paper, no clouds, no magic, upon what media, do you want to write your story for today? 

The Dancing Center

A poem by Niki Nirvikalpa
The Dancing Center

There is only one context,

Beyond, beneath;

The only context.

The One context of Love.

An abundance of energy.

Of Passion. Of Pathos.

But, for now and evermore,

Of Love.

The path is always

(and only)

seen through eyes of

Humility, Sincerity,

And Truth.

In order.

In Oneness.

Beyond these false veils.

This is a trip beyond Morality.

Beyond Ethics.

This is a trip of

Freeing Weltershires of

Consciousness:

Into Madness

Into Rapacity,

In Humility.

In Love.

Through logic and simplicity

Will we find the forms

That go beyond

Frail pastiches of

V I S I O N

(The pathetic cry of neon billboards

Offering salvation for a few dimes).

There is only one context,

Beyond, beneath;

The only context.

The One context:

Beyond Fear. Only Love.

Nursery Rhymes - Lyrics, Origins & History!

As my grandson becomes older, I think back to when my son and daughter were young and the Nursery rhymes we used to read to them every night. As I thought about the rhymes I wondered if nursery rhymes were alive and well in the digital age. I found this site, which I thought was a great starting point for parents and grandparents to understand the lyrics, origins and history of the rhymes. I always found it more interesting to share this information with my children along with the poems. The site is Nursery Rhymes Lyrics, Origins and History and it is from the UK.

This is the introduction to the site:

The history and origins of most nursery rhymes reflect events in history and where available we have included both the meanings, history and origins of everyone's favourite nursery rhymes. Two examples of these types of nursery rhymes history and origins are 'Ring a Ring o Rosies' which refers to the Bubonic plague and 'Remember Remember' nursery rhymes which allude to Guy Fawkes' foiled attempt to blow up the English Houses of Parliament! Many of the words and nursery rhymes lyrics were used to parody the royal and political events of the day, direct dissent would often be punishable by death! Strange how these events in history are still portrayed through children's nursery rhymes, when for most of us the historical events relationship to the nursery rhymes themselves are long forgotten! Help us to maintain our history and heritage through the words and lyrics of old Nursery Rhymes online.

Poetry

While I have done a lot of writing over my career, I have not written a lot of poetry but I am intrigued by this form of writing and perhaps one day I will share some of my poems here and I have thought about how to write poetry and here are some ideas, which I am putting into practice.  If you want to know how to write poetry, the first thing you have to do is write some. See my attempts below, I think it is important to write, It doesn't matter how it turns out. Your own mistakes will become your teachers. Your own writing will motivate you to greater creativity. Now, once you start the process, how do you improve it? Here are three tips.

1. Use nouns and verbs more than adjectives. Which is stronger: "She was as beautiful as a flower..." or "Roses wilted in shame as she passed by..."? "He looked at the depressing clouds..." or "He watched as dark clouds moved in, covering his sky..."?

2. Don't tell the reader how to feel. Let the words elicit the emotions directly, without explaining. "The tragedy touched them all," is more touching to the reader as "Men and women, doctor and workman... thirteen people looked upon the scene... with tears in their eyes."

3. Use dramatic and emotional words. Not all words are equal in their ability to "grab" a reader or elicit emotion. "Fell," "take," and "love," will probably be weaker than "plunged," "seized," and "worship."

Look at the following lines, written three ways.

The mountains and lakes were beautiful
I looked at them, heard them and smelled them
And I felt in awe

Mountains stand against the sky
My little lake at their feet
And in the middle of this creation
Which I see with my eyes
Hear with my ears
Smell and taste...
Words fail, as they should

Mountains rose from the mist of the lake
The scent of roses and lilacs filled my head
An Eagle floats high above
As the wind whispers in my ear
I stand in awe, silent

Which version is better? Again, if you want to know how to write poetry, you have to start writing. Use these and other rules to help you, but remember that all rules in poetry need to be broken at times. Read your poems aloud to yourself and others as a final "test."

All slang is a metaphor

All slang is a metaphor, and all metaphor is poetry. G. K. Chesterton, Defendant (1901)

Interesting quote by Chesterton, Something to think about, slang changes as young people define their own metaphors for life and so the poetry of life for the young is not the same as for the Boomers, nor is our poetry of life the same as our Seniors.
How do you define the poetry of your life? What metaphors do you use to define your world, to build the paradigm in which you shape your view of the world? I think, we Boomers have worked hard to define the slang that defined our world, the metaphors that create our poetry, and in my mind how we view the world. Everyone has different metaphors that help them define their world, but the Boomers have shared some common history that has helped define us. We watched as man landed on the moon for the first time, we huddled under desks as we prepared for nuclear war, we believed that we would not live into our 30's because the Americans and the Russians would start the war that would destroy the world. We watched the American Dream unravel as President Kennedy was assassinated, and most of us saw the horror of war on TV as we watched young men our age fighting in a foreign land, that we knew nothing about. We wrestled with these and other problems,  Billy Joel in his wonderful song "We didn't start the fire" gives a brief outline of the history of the times and I think shows the forces that helped the Boomers develop the slang to create the metaphors of our life.
 
Each one of us reacted to the events of our lives and in the process, created the poetry of our lives, which we passed on to our children, who created their own poetry and metaphors for life--shaped, we hope, by our experiences. The nice thing about being a grandparent is we should try to understand the poetry and metaphors of our lives and pass these metaphors on to our grandchildren, so the dream can live again.