The Poetry Marathon

WELCOMING WOODS

(based on my painting, Welcoming Woods)

The forest beckons me today

to come and wander and weave

my way through paths of sun-speckled, twisted roots

and sheltering boughs

A raven’s shrill call invites me

Deeper,

deeper into his

sacred space

Feathered residents

wary of my presence

cry out

hoots and twitters

coos and shrieks –

Are you friend or foe?

I settle on the stump

of an ancient oak

its rings of life still solid, strong

I close my eyes

Whispering boughs rustle overhead

A gentle breeze kisses my cheek

I inhale

The scent of rich moist earth

and fresh pine fills my senses

My heart rate slows

to the forest’s rhythm

I am one with the life around me

Looking forward to the challenge for my second time and meeting so many creative people.

Congratulations to all the Half Marathoners for finishing!  Bravo!

Pulling for you full Marathoners… You can do it!

Day breaks across my beloved’s face,

the sunlight caressing his kind and gentle features.

I watch him as he sleeps, as he breaths,

my heart swells with joy and contentment.

Time brought us here to this moment –

not one either would ever have guessed.

Love grew so fast we had to hold on tight

to one another to not spin out of control.

In these mature days of my life,

to find someone so perfect, so right for me,

was not expected, not sought out –

but, so it was to be.

You believe in me and support what I feel called to do,

no matter how trivial some of these may seem.

You never waver in your love;

you ground me when needed, you’re my sounding board of reason.

That ever-playful twinkle in your shockingly blue eyes

and your humorous view of the world and our foibles

Brings me a healthy dose of daily laughter and giggles

and sets the tone for our lives.

With each and every day, I am thankful

for the events that conspired to bring us together,

for these best days of our lives,

to share, to partner is this journey of love.

I want to be like you when I grow up –

a woman of kindness, of wisdom, of sharing.

You inspire me to be my best self –

to bring forth and develop the gifts I’ve been given.

It’s in your random acts of creative generosity

that I see the potential for my giving.

In your messages of encouragement,

that I find strength and endurance.

To know you is an honour, a privilege

and though we meet so seldom,

I feel your presence when I reach out

gor a gentle nudge to keep going.

You are a woman of affable nature

who many may say is simply “aging gracefully”,

yet, this is not the case.

You are more alive each day than the one before.

You continue to create masterpieces of magic

With paper and words and wisdom

And your gifts will live on as a legacy

To your love and your inimitable spirit.

The blank canvas beckons

but fear holds me back.

Can I do this?

Am I good enough?

Who will even like, who will want what I’ve made?

My inner muse responds,

‘Be still, listen to your heart.

It will never betray you.

Create what calls to you.’

Still with trepidation I approach –

never sure what will emerge.

I have something in mind –

an idea,

a concept only.

What colours do I need?

I choose Alizarin Crimson, Cadmium Yellow, Ultramarine Blue.

Now, what brushes and tools to produce the right marks?

Bristle or synthetic  – I select both and yes, that palette knife too.

Then it begins.

The process of drawing out images hidden in the canvas –

of telling a story in paint when words just won’t do.

Like a sculptor discovering his subject buried deep inside a piece of alabaster –

it’s how every artist works

Time seems to expand as the process continues.

The work begins to take shape,

I’m focused and attentive to each stroke.

Throughout I feel nudges to stop, to step back, take it in, make adjustments.

Then the moment arrives when I know it’s done.

Solar plexus fills with a sensation I can’t put into words –

it’s the signal to stop.

From fear to finishing

– my creative process.

The medium may be words, music, or images.

Each one of us like the Starship Enterprise – on a voyage of discovery.

We go where no one has gone before

for only we can delve into our minds and bring forth creations of our imaginings.

Spring in cottage country

– a time of magic –

when nature comes to life after a long deep sleep.

Hundreds of fireflies twinkle

backlit by the river of pulsing stars stretched overhead.

The night air fills with the chirping, jingle bell chorus of peepers seeking out a mate.

The musty odour of humus and fresh scent of new growth fills my senses.

Shadowy shapes move through the tree-line

where predator and prey engage in a nightly fight to the finish.

Soon the stifling heat of summer will bring new sights and sounds

to draw me even more from winter’s lethargy

to awaken my senses to nature’s wonders surrounding me.

Humankind stomps across our planet

leaving destruction in its wake.

Forests decimated,

species eradicated,

oceans and air polluted,

people starving,

dying.

Mother Earth cries.

“When will you ever learn, when will you ever learn?” ^1.

Want trumps need, grows into greed.

More factories, more roads, more buildings.

More money, more of this, more of that.

We get what we want only to want more.

We have no joy in this wanting, in these gains

We compete to have the most,

without concern for those who have less.

Our human nature wars against our humanity.

“When will you ever learn, when will you ever learn?”

“It took a pandemic to show you the way

It took a lockdown to open your eyes

But will your minds, your hearts and eyes cloud over again

once ‘normal’ days return?

Or, will you see how I, Mother Nature,

can teach you how to live,

how to heal the planet.

Together, we can heal what you have harmed.”

“When will you ever learn, when will you ever learn.”

1. Inspired by Song, Where have all the flowers gone by Pete Seeger. I changed ‘we’ in refrain to ‘you’.

Painting image: Copyright Wendie Donabie 2019

Determined patience

Brings rewards to those who wait

Like fish served up fresh

Painting copyright; Wendie Donabie 2020

Betwixt the dark and daylight hours

the raven calls me from my sleep.

His cry a sharp, demanding caw

to raise me from slumber deep.

What is it he is wanting now

that draws him to my windowpane?

Is he a harbinger of doom

that brings him here from his domain?

“Oh, you the coal black messenger

of prophecy and sudden change,

pray tell me what you’ve come to say –

what omen bring you – dire or sage?”

I feel a quickening in my flesh –

what is this sense that I’ve naught known?

“‘Ere I be driven from my mind,

oh, spirit bird, I must be shown.”

The black beast cocks his head aside

and in a tone both sharp and clear,

his dispatch issues so arcane,

“You’re called to now become a seer.”

“A seer?”  say I, “That cannot be

I have no mystic gifts to share.”

And yet, within my telltale heart

I know ‘tis now my cross to bear.

I ask, “How can I trust myself

to guide another on their way?”

The Raven looks me in the eye,

“You’ll always know the words to say.”

With that he turns and takes his leave,

his shape a specter as he soars.

I hear his final fervent call,

“And you shall see me nevermore.”

Photo credit: Mel-Poole-@melipoole- sourced from Unsplash