Beautiful And Lovely Finds Along The Way

I am looking back, into the glass  of the rear view mirrored lens of lovelies. These are some of the beautimous things in my remembering. I want to share with you.

1.  A Lovely Film — “Quartet”. You may watch the trailer here. You’re most welcome.

2.  A Lovely Poem — Today at Burnside Writer’s Collective  there is a beautiful poem entitled “This Ain’t Rocket Science” by John Blase. I am fond of his poetry. All of it. This piece is lovely.  If you want to read more of John’s poetry he blogs at The Beautiful Due. There are beautiful poems just waiting for you there.

3.  A Lovely Line From A Book — I am reading  several books at once, alternating between books on poetry, fiction, non-fiction, you name it.  This from “Writing Poetry From The Inside Out: finding your voice through the craft of poetry by Sandford Lyne”:

All of this is to say that, for the person who works at writing poems, life is never again the same.  Seeing is not the same. Hearing is not the same. Thinking is not the same. Remembering is not the same. And dreaming is not the same.  Everything is bigger; everything is more palpable.”

4.  A Lovely Classic —  I am slowly reading this Thomas Wolfe classic  while I am “home again”. So, in fact and ironically,  you can both go home again and read a tome entitled you can’t when you can  when you have a propensity for shorter and much pithier writing styles.  I may finish it one day, perhaps before my children have children.

You Can't Go Home Again

6. A Lovely Childhood Memory–  Oh does this book bring back wonderful childhood memories. The illustrations by Maurice Sendak are whimsical and wonderful. And the humor and message for  both children and adults on being well-mannered is marvelous. I highly recommend it. You are welcome, my dear.what do you say dear

7. A Lovely New Memory – Visiting The Chapel Of The Prodigal to see the lovely fesco with my mother while a music student practices the piano. Looking forward to this next season of Downton Abbey. Mother is too. We sat and listened to the theme from this Masterpiece Theater Classic while we soaked in the glory of the fresco.

the prodigal fesco

8. A Lovely Scene From The Natural World –  This Oak Hydranga takes my breath away. every. single. time. I walk by. Glory be.

oak hydranga

9. A Lovely Idea Well Executed – Emily Freeman from Chatting at the Sky blog has a monthly link up entitled “What I Learned This Month”. Visit her blog and read some rather interesting lists of things learned in July by her readers and fellow bloggers. You may especially enjoy my friend Shelly Miller’s list of July “things”. Shelly blogs at Redemtpion’s Beauty and her list can be found here.

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I am on instagram @graceappears and on facebook. It would be lovely to see you there.

Did You Ever Dream

Spencer and the dolphin

Did you every dream of
Strapping on your custom-made wings
Made of gathered and lovely found things
Buckling a harness
Of hope
Tightening the tether to the sky
And soaring away for a very short stay
Sent off by the caw caw caw
Of  an army of annoying black crows

Into the cloud covered day
As you glide down the bend in the arcs
Where the earth melds with blue hued sky
While you whisper a million whys

Landing, a soft crash landing
Mercy breaking your fall
You stand to face the day

This little part of your dream
Occurrs

Right after you toss Adam and Eve under the bus
For causing all of the pain
In the first place
For all of us
They started this cycle of pain
And it is so easy to blame
Eve and Adam
For all the sadness
Jesus I am so glad You came

Here
To a world of hurt
Where sin covers us up like
Dirt

And you reach for the plank in your eye
And ask why oh God oh why

Well neither have I.

I Was Just Wondering – Because I Am Weird That Way

 ame churchI Was Just Wondering – Because I Am Weird That Way

If every church, every where, literally not figuratively
Speaking
Of church
Do you think every pew in every town everywhere
Has the quiet griever in its midst
The stranger suffering in our midst
We are too busy singing from the old blue hymnal
Traditional words could, no
Would help the one who has the quiet thoughts
I really miss my wife who died last month
Everyone is facing forward looking straight ahead
Of me
And behind me too
well, and to my right to be exact is one
Who has the silent prayer trapped inside
I hope my friend with cancer doesn’t die


But we watch our watch and wonder, tea or diet coke
At lunch when will this sermon end
Is it too much
To ask
The lady hunched over in her chair if she knows how lovely
She looks today
Barely hanging by a thread
Beside the man sitting worried in the pew
His insides churning
It’s hell, this recent divorce
Keeps him up at night
If you’d just ask he’d be happy to tell you
And if you even spoke in church
He might ask you to pray
I was just wondering because I am weird that way
Maybe the church
Could close the hymnal every now and then
I love music more than most
But let’s
Seek the hurting, silent ones in our midst
Faith without works is dead

We
Could pray and say and love
I don’t know anymore but somehow I don’t want to miss the boat

Perhaps a  little more love would
Cover a multitude of sins
And I was just wondering

Maybe we should love our neighbor
Literally

Speaking
Mine wept in church today

Quiet never saying a word until he was spoken to
And then he cried
And so did I
Strangers we until he voiced his pain
I am weird that way
I was just wondering.

Back In The Day

box woods and bench WH's

Back In The Day

Circa 1908
You left ghosts
Good ones
Memories
Mark corners
As a dog every tree and bush
Buried bones
In cracks in floors and ceiling
Bust open, every door
We escape
The heat
Of the day
Going out then in
As if it were an Olympic sport
This sitting on the porch

If you can’t stand the sitting
Stand up
Get outside awhile
Air your dirty laundry
Everyone below can hear
Your voice carries

Rising up and through
The oaks

Down the road the sanatoriums
Sprang up
A million mushrooms
After the rain
To house the sick

Breath deep
The air it heals

Did you sit as long as we
You visions of the past
Rocking back and forth
Trapping every smell of lilac,
Rot, wet earth
From the hills

We identify every waft
That wanders by
Anchoring our living
Senses fully engaged
Right here, right now
Frozen
On the edge of boxwood and vine
Perched like birds for hours
Watching them

Watch us
Lose all track of time
The train will whistle
Wakes us up

You left us more than memorabilia
But a metronome
Set on slow
And barely moving
To pace our days
Tasting wet rain mornings
Pallet cleanser

Come and linger long
On the edges of the sides of hills
Anchor here
Upon the slippery slope
Lingering
Life
Measured in the sightings of the finch
Don’t blink you’ll miss the high point of the day

How strange
We may live  even slower
When we come through the gate
Than
You, ghosts of
Circa nineteen hundred and

oh eight

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Joining Sandra Heska King for Still Saturday