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Category Archives: poetry

Heartwood, Daffodil and Kalettes

I found this beautiful piece of work and thought I would share it with you. It made me think of the cutting down of so many of Sheffield’s trees last year.  The art work is as stunning as the poem, so full of detail and charm.

Heartwood by Robert Macfarlane, art by Nick Hayes

We don’t have swathes of daffodils, just one at a time for now and those are getting knocked down by the wind and rain. I brought the first one in.

Rain battered Daffodil in our indoor garden

Our Kalettes keep on giving! I cooked these in garlic butter and a splash of water. They grow like sprouts but are much more delicious!

Kalettes in garlic butter

 
 

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Honouring the Life of Mary Oliver

I’ve posted a couple of Mary Oliver’s poems before.  I was sorry to hear of her death yesterday.

Mary Oliver

This next poem, Mindful, delights me in that it sums up what I try to do every day.

Everyday
I see or hear
something
that more or less

kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle

in the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for —
to look, to listen,

to lose myself
inside this soft world —
to instruct myself
over and over

in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant —
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help

but grow wise
with such teachings
as these —
the untrimmable light

of the world,
the ocean’s shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?

“Mindful” by Mary Oliver from Why I Wake Early. © Beacon Press, 2005

This is a very good question for us each to ask ourselves.

Your one and precious life

You might like to look up this website to read more of her poems.

 
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Posted by on January 18, 2019 in poetry, Postaday 2019

 

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Last Night’s New Song, A Poem and A Vegan Supper

The Ingleheart Singers are learning a beautiful new piece, ‘Crossing the Bar’ an arrangement of Tennyson’s poem with the music by Rani Arbo and arranged by Peter Amidon. We managed just the first verse last night and here it is. It’s a four part harmony and each verse is going to be different. We love a challenge!

       

           Crossing the Bar by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Sunset and evening star,  
  And one clear call for me!  
And may there be no moaning of the bar,  
  When I put out to sea,  
  
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,  
  Too full for sound and foam,  
When that which drew from out the boundless deep  
  Turns again home.  
  
Twilight and evening bell,  
  And after that the dark!     
And may there be no sadness of farewell,  
  When I embark;  
  
For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place  
  The flood may bear me far,  
I hope to see my Pilot face to face  
  When I have cross’d the bar.

I found a delicious sounding vegan recipe this week, Spinach, Chickpea and Lemon Pilaff and it tasted as good as it sounded!

Spinach, chickpea and lemon pilaff

 

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Looking, Leaping and A Poem

Beach with the LiveWires this morning was cold but fun.

Looking out to sea

Leaping over a stream

I was sent this thoughtful New Year poem as a present this morning with permission to publish here if I wished. I do – so here it is for you to enjoy as well.

 

Poem for the new year (1995)

No more haunted houses,
stale-breathed walls
No more picking our way
around scrabbled ruins, choked
by the hold of generations
No more drawing at dry wells,
weaving whole cloth from
rags, brilliant
with their years and stories.
That’s right – begin here,
with the awe of
a new imagination,
a life still dangerously fresh,
precariously pink
at the bone,
a peach skin split,
flesh free from the stone,
juice drumming urgent
through your fingers –
begin with this.

c Karen Mittelman

 
 

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Periwinkle, Heather and A Poem

A few moments in the front garden collecting photos – a Periwinkle and some white Winter Heather which, in its out-of-focus beauty minds me of a wedding dress.

White Tree Heather

Purple Periwinkle

And, today, a winter poem that looks towards hope for you:

Winter Stars – Sara Teasdale

I went out at night alone;
 The young blood flowing beyond the sea
Seemed to have drenched my spirit’s wings—
 I bore my sorrow heavily.
But when I lifted up my head
 From shadows shaken on the snow,
I saw Orion in the east
 Burn steadily as long ago.
From windows in my father’s house,
 Dreaming my dreams on winter nights,
I watched Orion as a girl
 Above another city’s lights.
Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too,
 The world’s heart breaks beneath its wars,
All things are changed, save in the east
 The faithful beauty of the stars.
 

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Brining Solution, Sausage Rolls and Christmas Letter

Today I have made the beautiful brining solution for the turkey – oranges, onions, cinnamon sticks, juniper berries, cranberries, ginger, all spice, star anise, sugar and salt.

Brining solution

I made a start on other Christmas baking – this afternoon, the much requested sausage rolls.

Mini rolls

I love getting Christmas letters, be they an insert written on the computer or hand written within the card. This poem sums up the sentiment.

The Christmas Letter – John M. Morris

Wherever you are when you receive this letter
I write to say we are still ourselves
in the same place
and hope you are the same.

The dead have died as you know
and will never get better,
and the children are boys and girls
of their several ages and names.

So in closing I send you our love
and hope to hear from you soon.
There is never a time
like the present. It lasts forever
wherever you are. As ever I remain.

 

Fruity Decorations, Angel and Pockets

There was a delightful Christmas Market outside the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona.  I resisted most of the stalls though I loved the fruity decorations which I am going to try to make and, everywhere we go, I buy a new Angel for the Christmas tree. There was music playing around the market and one of the songs was ‘Nana Nanita’ a Spanish lullaby which both my choirs sing.

Fruity stall

New Angel

I have another lovely poem by Kim Ridgeon to share. I find this somehow evocative of childhood  and love the ideas of pockets full of secrets, beliefs, memories and fears. I don’t know who is in the photo but I do have permission to show both the poem and the accompanying photo.

Pocket song from Jean

 

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