Mrs Stevens Hears the Mermaids Singing (Book Review with Quotes)
This book is billed as a novel, but it is a record of a fictitious woman poet being interviewed, including all her mind’s meanderings and flashbacks.
This book is billed as a novel, but it is a record of a fictitious woman poet being interviewed, including all her mind’s meanderings and flashbacks.
I’m grateful for a lot of things:
For Truth, Life, and Love
For family, marriage, and home,
For progress, hope, and fruition,
Stocking up on groceries
for our family to come home,
packing the refrigerator,
full to the gills,
No longer between the seasons, the russet of our gratitude, the bronze of our resilience, the burnt sienna of our self-sacrifice — all spill richly along the warm dark.
I want to make poems that say right out, plainly,
what I mean, that don’t go looking for the
laces of elaboration, puffed sleeves.
All are connected,
although distinct,
woven tightly together
into a unified fabric
full of dependencies
and beauty.
As I pray about fires, flooding, and hurricanes, it seems like a good time to focus on gratitude. Let’s not take any of the good we have for granted.
I used to ask if he missed me.
He did not, citing his completeness
independence, and self-sufficiency.
Did you even notice I was gone,
I would fish,
…convoluted matrix
of time, place,
fickle appearances.
and ephemeral light,
all converging to seem
so regal– monolithic and
impossibly out of reach…
Butterfly wings arch
like cathedral windows
basking in the sun,
their yellow stained glass
The simple beauty of walking in your truth because it is your own truth, is the path we eventually return to.
I am furthering my ongoing goal of appreciating such a continuous, overflowing abundance of random good. I’ve even taken photographs of some of them –mostly with my iPhone–as shown in this post.
It hovers in dark corners
before the lights are turned on,
it shakes sleep from its eyes
and drops from mushroom gills,
Recently a friend
complimented a woman
on her gorgeous sari
and was shown
the intricate stitching
on the inside where
it would never be seen
as well as the detailed
filigree on the backs
of her stunning earrings
that no one would ever notice.
The lush, dappled day
engulfs me, effulgently
as stray, stippled sunlight
penetrates in spotty brushstrokes,
and tender leaves clap their hands
exhilarated by such hydration.
The peonies this year have been exceptional as you can see by the volume of photos in this post. The weather stayed cool for quite a while allowing these beauties to linger until now that it has finally gotten hot.
Putting church over community.
Putting orthodoxy over love.
Putting certainty over wonder.
Putting teaching over conversation…