Tag Archives: Poet

Life Imitates Art

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Or is it the other way around?

I’ve been trying to capture this photo for a few days and my patience and persistence finally paid off. I think she’s searching for a suitable nesting site, or maybe she really thinks this hummingbird wind chime is a cousin, I dunno…

I had to snap the pic through the screen door so I wouldn’t scare her off, but I’m completely happy with the result. It’s these little joyful moments that make life worth living, don’t you agree?

I discovered a poem written by D.H. Lawrence about hummingbirds:

Humming-bird
I can imagine, in some otherworld
Primeval-dumb, far back
In that most awful stillness, that only gasped and hummed,
Humming-birds raced down the avenues.

Before anything had a soul,
While life was a heave of Matter, half inanimate,
This little bit chipped off in brilliance
And went whizzing through the slow, vast, succulent stems.

I believe there were no flowers, then
In the world where the humming-bird flashed ahead of creation.
I believe he pierced the slow vegetable veins with his long beak.

Probably he was big
As mosses, and little lizards, they say, were once big.
Probably he was a jabbing, terrifying monster.

We look at him through the wrong end of the long telescope of Time,
Luckily for us.

Wild Darkness

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There in the wild darkness
Is the silence
And, after the darkness
Comes the Light

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

A Little Poem by Athey Thompson

Do You Hear It, Too?

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Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

I heard a whisper
Coming from the trees
And, in that moment
I was gone,
Gone away
To return, to where I’d come from

By Athey Thompson

A Little Fairy Magic

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I don’t know about you, but I need some fairies to perform a little magic right about now.

The Fairy Forest

The faery forest glimmered
Beneath an ivory moon,
The silver grasses shimmered
Against a faery tune.

Beneath the silken silence
The crystal branches slept,
And dreaming thro’ the dew-fall
The cold white blossoms wept.
Sara Teasdale

Art credit: Midsummer Eve by Edward Robert Hughes

Leon Russell 🎩 Bluebird

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The world lost Leon Russell eight years ago on November 13, 2016. He was and will always be the absolutely gorgeous Master of Space and Time. He is so very missed. I hope that our collective and continued love for Leon offers his family some small comfort as they remember his life. We will never forget him or his musical genius that still brings so much joy.

According to his mother, Leon Russell’s first words happened as a result of observing some birds…“What’s the matter little birdie, you cry?” She was shocked because Leon had never before spoken. For some reason, that sweet story touches my heart. Maybe it was a bluebird.

Credit to the photographer

This Mary Oliver poem about a bluebird seems to convey what I can’t figure out how to say.

What Gorgeous Thing

I do not know what gorgeous thing
the bluebird keeps saying,
his voice easing out of his throat,
beak, body into the pink air
of the early morning. I like it
whatever it is. Sometimes
it seems the only thing in the world
that is without dark thoughts.
Sometimes it seems the only thing
in the world that is without
questions that can’t and probably
never will be answered, the
only thing that is entirely content
with the pink, then clear white
morning and, gratefully, says so. — Mary Oliver

Bluebird by Leon Russell

*Featured photo credit to Enchanted Seashells of scrub jay

Life Goals

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Instructions for living a life.
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.

— Mary Oliver

world of love hearts

Light After Dark

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There in the wild darkness
Is the silence
And, after the silence
Comes the light

A New Dawn, a little poem by Athey Thompson
Artist:Elisabeth Ladwig

Whisper To Me

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Today’s Full Wolf Moon mood…

I heard a whisper
Coming from the trees
And, in that moment
I was gone
Gone away
To return, to where I’d come from.

A little Poem by Athey Thompson
Taken from A Little Pocket Book of Poems by Athey Thompson
Photo credit to Enchanted Seashells of magical tree at Big Sur

Come Home

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Yesterday’s angst is over; problems solved — today is Friday the 13th, a day that was once considered unlucky until we learned that its negative image is rooted in the patriarchy suppressing the power of the female.

Rather than being afraid of Friday the 13th, especially since its ruled by Venus, we could instead manifest its magic as a day to connect to our beauty and nature.

For me, that’s always been the easiest route; my animal family is all about love. This IS home, along with art and a poem.

I shall
Gather up
All the lost souls
That wander this earth
All the ones that are alone
All the ones that are broken
All the ones that never really fitted in
I shall gather them all up
And together we shall find our home

“Gather up” A Poem written by Athey Thompson
Taken from A Little Book Of Poetry
Art by Elaine Bayley curated from Pinterest

October Fevers and Aussie Binges

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“Whence October is upon us, There shall be magic in the air, why it shall be everywhere. All ye leaves shall fall as Autumn does call. And as the faery folk are now gathering up and foraging, tonight I shall be leaving them a wee offering. Why, I shall leave them a few freshly hand picked Bramble berries & a wee tipple of Whiskey, Oh why how merry they shall surely be.” –Athey Thompson

First I’m hot and then I’m freezing. I confess that I’m having a hard time locating the magic in October. Not yet.

Because I wasn’t very smart last year and didn’t get a pneumonia vaccination, I ended up really sick with the most horrible case of double (bi-lateral) pneumonia, so bad that but for the fact that I’m incredibly stubborn, I would have been hospitalized,

THIS time I got the vaccination, reluctantly, because I always endure side effects for about thirty-six hours: headache, chills, fever. Most people only experience a sore arm but my immune system likes to give me a more ambitious taste of reality.

That’s why I’m now wrapped up in a blanket on the sofa, drinking ginger tea and binge-watching my new obsession, Blue Heelers, an Australian TV show from the 90s about the daily lives of Victorian police officers working at a police station in the fictional small town of Mount Thomas.

I think I’ve pretty much exhausted all the available British shows, so I had to search in a completely different hemisphere. Yes, it’s outdated with the gigantic brick-like cell phones, floppy disks, and scrunchies, but I’m learning a lot of new words like “mozzy” for mosquito, “esky” for Eskimo cooler, “slab” for six-pack of beer, “good on ya” and “you beauty“. I had to look up “it’s my shout, mate” to learn it means whoever said it will pay for the next round of drinks.

Previously my DIL and I loved A Place To Call Home, Rake, The Newsreader, The Doctor Blake Mysteries, and of course, Bluey.

I’m bracing for more vaccinations next week because it’s better to have a robustly active immune than the alternative. The first Covid vaccine sent me immediately to urgent care with an allergic reaction (read about that here) but the rest of them have been well tolerated except for the thirty-six hours of subsequent hell.

Anyway, happy October and stay healthy!