Poetry Friday original - Hummingbird

Poetry Friday is being hosted this week at Author Amok . Thanks to Laura for hosting!

A week ago last Sunday we had multiple hummingbird sightings in our yard (which was far, far nicer than flood water last Sunday).

I dug out a children's poem I wrote a few years ago, while staying at my sister's house during her battle with cancer -- it is a fond memory.

HUMMINGBIRD

by James Danielson

Hummingbird, hummingbird
Beak black and long
If I could get close
Would your wings sing a song?

Hummingbird, hummingbird
Throat painted red
You spot a sweet meal
In my flowering bed.

Hummingbird, hummingbird
Back shines so green
Bees scare you away
I think they're so mean.

Hummingbird, hummingbird
High in the tree
You need more to eat
So come fly back by me.

Keep your eyes open

Okay. If you saw this before, it somehow got out of sync and reverted to an incomplete version.

I deleted and started over.

I remember reading in Steven King's On Writing that story ideas come from everywhere and that we need to watch for them.

Here's my extension of that: Watch for details to add to your existing story. At dinner a few nights ago my future daughter-in-law broke open her fortune cookie: "You will learn the truth in time."

My current WIP has a MC who has Chinese food in Chapter 1. The book is a ghost mystery centering around a grandfather clock. Hmmm ....... are fortunes copyrighted???

Jim D

Floods

Flooded Street/Our Driveway

Overall, we got off a lot easier than many in the Chicago area. I just wanted to share a few pics from the front of our house.

The first is about 2PM Sunday. The second shows who actually enjoyed the flood (look for the ducks). The third is about 5PM as water receded. We are lucky. Many in the area are still severely flooded. We also avoided any flooding inside the house. Many roads are still closed and traffic is snarled beyond belief. Boy did I pick a good week to be at home on vacation (with not much of anywhere to go).

"Duck" Weather

Getting Back Toward Normal

Poetry Friday-Original

My original intent was to offer up a light and airy children's poem this week. Frustration with politics (and the news surrounding it) has sent me in a different direction.

WAITING FOR THE TRAIN - 2008

by Jim Danielson

I sit on a bench
Waiting for the train
The sun glares through the warming house window
Begging me to wake up
My eyes open wider and I shiver
Is it from the cool morning air?
Or the cold thoughts that plague me?
The heater squeaks its way out of summer retirement
A blast of hot air
The chill remains
Political rhetoric echos through my head
I shiver again and turn on my brain's spam filter
Quieter
No more talk of change where there is none
No more justification of war as God's mission
No more lipstick
Still there are rumbles
Cool wisps from those around me
Wisps of bias -- gender, race, religion
Distractions from economy, education and war
Distractions from our destination
The bell clangs as the train pulls into the station
The doors open and the conductor announces the route
I hear my stop and step aboard
Finally, I am warm.
Did you hear your stop?
Were you listening?


I post this with reluctance -- I've never written anything remotely political.

Next week I promise light and airy for balance -- I promise.

Thanks to Jennie at Biblio File for hosting this week!

Poetry Friday Crickets and Cicada

Cicada emerging from shell in our back yard.

As summer winds down, the sounds of crickets and cicada will soon be behind us. This week I offer two ancient poems.

They are credited to a Greek-speaking native of ancient Syria by the name of Meleager. More information can be found at the following site (where I found the poems):

http://www.insects.org/ced3/cicada_ancgrcult.html

The Cicada to the Cricket
O cricket, you who soothe my passion and provide the consolation of sleep;
O cricket, shrill-winged rustic Muse;
You natural imitator of the lyre, sing for me some poignant song
As you tap with your charming feet and strum your loquacious wings,
So as to relieve me from toilsome worry that completely deprives me of sleep
As, o cricket, you spin out a song that dispatches Eros.
Then I shall give you as gifts, first thing in the morning, an evergreen leek
Along with dewy droplets that I separate with my mouth.

The Cricket to the Cicada
O resonant cicada, drunk on dewy droplets.
You sing your rustic song that sounds in lonely places.
Perched with your saw-like limbs, high up among the leaves
You shrill forth the lyre's tune with your sun-darkened body.
But, dear friend, sound forth something new for the woodland nymphs,
A divertissement, chirping a tune for Pan as the song which you sing in your turn,
So that I, escaping from Eros, can catch some noon-time sleep
While reclining there under the shady plane tree.

Poetry Friday is being hosted at:

http://wildrosereader.blogspot.com/

Thanks to Elaine Magliaro for hosting this week!