Enjambment | Measure: Robert Hass

A few years ago UC Berkeley hosted an Eco-Poetics Conference. My son was invited to participate and while there he was honored to meet the poet, Robert Hass.

Hass served as Poet Laureate of the United States from 1995 to 1997. He won the 2007 National Book Award and shared the 2008 Pulitzer Prize for the collection Time and Materials: Poems 1997-2005. In 2014 he was awarded the Wallace Stevens Award from the Academy of American Poets.

I love the way his mind works, it’s as simple as that.

From Hass: “This poem is called measure – I think it belongs to my learning as a young writer as to where I felt poems were coming from.”

Measure 

Recurrences.
Coppery light hesitates
again in the small-leaved

Japanese plum. Summer
and sunset, the peace
of the writing desk

and the habitual peace
of writing, these things
form an order I only

belong to in the idleness
of attention. Last light
rims the blue mountain

and I almost glimpse
what I was born to,
not so much in the sunlight

or the plum tree
as in the pulse
that forms these lines.

FYI: Enjambment…From the French meaning “a striding over,” a poetic term for the continuation of a sentence or phrase from one line of poetry to the next. An enjambed line typically lacks punctuation at its line break, so the reader is carried smoothly and swiftly—without interruption—to the next line of the poem.

Feel the Full Moon Energy

Keep your eyes on the sky!

The moon begins her stately ride
Across the summer sky;
The happy wavelets lash the shore,
The tide is rising high. (From Evening Moon Paul Laurence Dunbar)

July’s full Buck Moon orbits closer to Earth than many of the other full moons this year, making it one of the four super moons of 2023.

This full moon in Capricorn is ruled by Chronos (Saturn) and Poseidon (Neptune), both powerful gods.

I’m not exactly sure what all that means, but in general, full moons can serve to illuminate our belief systems and define our overall intentions to live in joy and integrity.

Don’t forget to set out a jar of water along with your crystals to be cleansed and charged by the moon’s powerful energy.

(Art curated from Pinterest)

A Joy Forever

“A thing of beauty is a joy forever” — John Keats.

I used to love to walk through the downtown of my little city, until elected officials decided to call it a “village” but instead ruin it by filling it with boxes of ugly square buildings and a lot more places for people to get nasty drunk.

There’s no longer any charm; the atmosphere is entirely UNvillage-like, actually about as far away from being a “village” as you could possibly get.

I usually stay away but yesterday I found myself in the area and stopped at a little consignment shop, not the same one where I once scored AUTHENTIC Louis Vuitton and Dior scarves in the same day, but one with housewares and touristy stuff.

That’s where i fell in love with this beautiful work of art in the form of a pitcher and HAD to bring it home with me.

She needed a special photo shoot to properly reveal the iridescent green and gold, so I brought her out to the garden to soak up a few rays.

Have you ever seen anything more charming and ENCHANTED? I think not.

There’s no maker mark so it’s not valuable to anyone but me, but I love pretty things and this pitcher will definitely be on display in all of her glory. I’m burying the lede here, but in case you’re wondering, it cost $8.00.That’s it. EIGHT DOLLARS.

A thing of beauty is absolutely a joy forever.

Inner Child ⭐ Love

“It doesn’t matter how old you are, there is a little child within who needs love and acceptance.”- Louise Hay

Do you still wish upon a star? I do, because my own inner child is blissfully naive and unsophisticated.

Star light, star bright,
First star I see tonight,
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Have this wish I wish tonight.⭐

I wrote a letter
To my inner child
And, I told her
How loved she was by me
And, if no one else
Ever told her so
She knew
How loved she was, by me

And when
We grow up
We must never forget
That hidden, down deep
Within us
Is our forever inner child
Resting, silently within us
Forever waiting
Forever hoping
That one day
We shall
Remember it

And, if a star shall fall
Down upon the ground
Why, I shall pick her up
For she longed to be found
I shall hold her forever
Forever in my heart
Knowing that we shall never
Ever again, be apart

By Athey Thompson from A little Pocket Book of Poems

Word of the Day: Latibulate

Latibulate is a word we definitely need to bring back into daily circulation!

It’s the the action of hiding oneself in a corner: verb, 17th century English.

To be in our latibule (noun) means a cozy, safe place, special to you, hidden away from everyone, in an attempt to escape reality; also to lie dormant.

A place to meditate? A she-shed? A man cave? A blanket fort?

I always thought it’d be so cool to have one of those hidden rooms, to be accessed only by those who knew which secret panel to press in a bookcase.

Or if you’re mom to a toddler, it could even be the bathroom, where we can hide for a few minutes of privacy and silence. Maybe. Maybe not.

Mom/Grandma, are you in there? Whatcha doing? Can I come in? The door won’t open!”

Angel Boy 2.0 no longer joins me in the bathroom. That was a tradition we agreed to stop when he was four and he kept his word. Now that he’s seven, he likes his own private time and we all respect that, too.

Angel Girl, not yet four, is more fluid in her boundaries. She’s in that in between stage; not quite a big girl but no longer a baby. Sometimes she likes company and a chat, sometimes she likes to brush her teeth with me, mirroring all of my actions. Yes, it’s as adorable as you could picture it.

Especially now, we all need a place to latibulate away from civilization, far away from the madding crowd.

“Far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learned to stray;
Along the cool sequestered vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.”

– Thomas Gray

Miles To Go…

From the deepest, darkest part of the ocean to where I feel more at home, following a path on terra firma…

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   
But I have promises to keep,   
And miles to go before I sleep,   
And miles to go before I sleep.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening — Robert Frost
Artist Micell A. via Pinterest

I Am 🩷

The practice of daily affirmations is a great way to reframe our mental patterns, shifting into positive thinking while learning to dynamically rewire our brain with neuroplasticity.


“I closed my eyes, took a calming breath and listened to my heart call I am… I am… I am…”

~Sylvia Plath The Bell Jar

(In 1982, Plath was posthumously awarded the Pulitzer Prize for her Collected Poems.)

Try these I am affirmations:

I am excited for this day.
I am so grateful to be alive.
I am lovable.
I am worthy.
I’m going to have a great day.
I am open to opportunities.
I am alive.
I am full of joy.
I am at peace.
I am positive.
I am safe.
I am a wonderful person.
I am happy and healthy.
I am.
🩷

Salute The Red Admiral

I’m so excited! This is the first time I’ve ever seen a Red Admiral butterfly. I had installed a solar powered fountain in the pond only minutes before when this little guy came to visit and take a drink. After that, he spread his wings on the sun warmed rocks and I was able to get a good look.

I hope he hangs around for a while…I’ll try to capture better photos if I see him again.

The Red Admiral (Vanessa atalanta) has much more black than the Monarch. It has a black upper forewing with a bright, diagonal red-orange band across it and spots of white on the tips. It also has a red marginal band on its hindwing and the underside is a mottled brown. 

I found a poem about this butterfly and had to share. I wasn’t able to learn a lot about the poet, David Wood, but I certainly do like his poems!

Sonnet 68: Red Admiral

Patrolling small stretches of the hedgerow
Like a silent sentry on guard duty,
Other butterflies they will overthrow;
The Red Admiral, nature’s real beauty.

Seen fluttering throughout summers hot days
From buddleia to Michaelmas daisies,
And sheltering from the suns golden rays,
All the people will sing of their praises.

But they cannot survive the winter’s cold
Their life is all too brief, a crying shame:
Alas none of them will ever grow old
Their short life is all part of nature’s game.

Their beauty we cannot take for granted
For they are delicately enchanted.

Strawberry Full Moon’s Penumbral Thoughts

| Penumbra: a shadowy, indefinite, or marginal area |

I sent you a present last night you know
Though it didn’t address you by name
It was all of those meteors showering, dancing
And falling to earth like the rain

I wrote you a letter last week you know
But it won’t have arrived in the post
I wrote on the bright coloured curves of a rainbow
The reasons I missed you the most

I sent you a message just yesterday
But it wasn’t a message in words
For I spoke to the wind and I taught her our song
And I asked her to make sure you heard

I drew you a picture last Tuesday
But you may not have noticed it there
For I drew round the clouds with the rays of the sun
So they glowed as they hung in the air

No, you may not get gifts like you used to
Or get messages stored on your phone
But I’ll make sure I’m sending something each day
So you know that you’re never alone

And tomorrow I’ll paint something wonderful
I don’t know quite yet what it will be
But I promise you’ll know when you see it
That it’s sent just to you

Love from me
Xxx

From When I Am Gone – Becky Hemsley

Fuchsia Fairy

DIL asked for suggestions about flowers for a hanging basket near their front door.

When I replied that I thought a fuchsia would be pretty, she snortlaughed and said,
“Ring-ring-ring, 1980s calling, Grandma!”

I had never before thought that a purple-pink fuchsia dated me as being OLD, haha. It was a great joke…UNTIL she saw mine, asked what it was, and I was able to identify this amazing creation as a…fuchsia!

So NOW who’s laughing?

How could anyone not love this delicate ballerina of a flower?

Flower fairy and poem credit to https://flowerfairies.com/

Fuchsia is a dancer
Dancing on her toes,
Clad in red and purple,
By a cottage wall;
Sometimes in a greenhouse,
In frilly white and rose,
Dressed in her best for the fairies’ evening ball!