Young Poet Listening

"The poet doesn't invent. He listens."

-Jean Cocteau

Today I'm handing my blog over to my grandson, the Little Scholar. Eight years old, he finished second grade last Friday and brought home a stellar report card to show for it.  His backpack was filled with papers, Pokeman cards, pencils, crayons, and old treasures rediscovered in the deep recesses of his desk.  Oh, I had forgotten the unbridled joy of a child's last day of school!

Among his papers was this writer's journal (photo above), mandated, no doubt, by his teacher, but embraced by the Little Scholar. In it, he describes himself as a "poet and author." Wow. I wonder how I might have described myself at his age. What would you have written about yourself?

Here is one of the poems from his journal, which the Little Scholar has offered to share with you:

The Sounds in a Rainstorm

A storm is full

of the nicest sounds,

It BOOMS! and BANGS!

and rumbles,

With kids JuMpInG in puddles,

The wind and flags

are flapping fast,

Suddenly it is quiet,

            and peaceful again.             

- Tony Lucas

I'm very happy that young students are being exposed to poetry and prose. It bodes well for our community. When children are taught to listen to the world around them and interpret what they hear, beauty is bound to happen.

Thanks for reading, and if you are so inclined to leave a comment today, you can be sure that the reply will come from the Little Scholar himself.  Have fun with kids this summer!

The music selection today was very easy..."Storm" or the 3rd Movement of Antonio Vivaldi's "Summer" of "Four Seasons".  I think the Little Scholar got a kick out of hearing that his name, Anthony, tranlates to 'Antonio' in Italian.

I presented him with three versions of this selection; one filled with special effects from techno-pop diva Vanessa Mae, one with a fabulous young electric guitarist from Kazakhstan, and one straightforward chamber orchestra version. To my utter surprise and delight, he selected the latter version. When asked why he chose that one, he answered, "It sounds like it's supposed to sound"...another purist in the family!

This is the Israel Chamber Orchestra with Paul Levin on the violin and David Zebba in the conductor's chair.  Enjoy! 

Sacred Sentiments

"What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us."
- Helen Keller

Maori Chief - sketched in 1769 by Sidney Parkinson,
artist on Captain Cook's 1st voyage to New Zealand
Image from Wikipedia 

Tattoos have been used since the beginning of human time for the purpose of marking a significant event. The word itself comes from the Samoan word‘tatau’ which means ‘to mark something’.
 
"Ötzi the Ice-Man" (the Neolithic corpse discovered in 1991) bore several tattoos, including ones behind his right knee, his lower back, and both ankles.  While we can only speculate as to the meaning of his tattoos, it goes without saying that it must have been to mark a significant event or time in his life.
 
I've never been a big fan of tattoos. You only need to ask two of my sons, who will tell you their stories of my reaction to theirs. I mean, you have to be absolutely certain you're going to want to spend eternity with that  marking, right?  If a mummified Neolithic man still displays his tattoos to the world, that's one enduring art form.

Still, there is something to it, this practice of making a mark on our skin to mark a significant event in our lives.  In some cases, it may be about using physical pain to express internal pain, but not always. They can also express great joy, marking the occasions of love in our lives. I must admit, I see the sacred sentiments in such tattoos.  

My great-nephew's father, brother, and wife decided to express their love and their pain at his passing with tattoos. I found their choices to be poignant and dear. I'm certain it was a wonderful bonding experience, and I look forward to hearing all about it, and seeing the tattoos for myself, very soon.

Here are the photos from their experience:

This one is from Josh's father, and includes favorite pet name from Josh's childhood.



 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

This one is from Josh's brother, who commemorates their love for Maurice Sendak's "Where the Wild Things Are"
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
...and this one is from Josh's wife:
 

The purple rose signifies Cystic Fibrosis awareness, and the green ribbon is the symbol of organ donors.

I can feel Josh's smile at these sacred sentiments.

Today, may you find a way to remember a loved one.

The music for today is called "Divine Remembrance". Rupert Guenther (on electric violin) & Paul Armitage (on keyboard) performance from the "Gratitude" CD. Recorded live in concert Perth Australia 2004. Enjoy...

Shine On, Joshua

"With all your science - can you tell how it is, and whence it is, that light comes into the soul?"
-Henry David Thoreau

Joshua James Schoenhoff
1986 - 2011

The Cystic Fibrosis has died at last.

The light from Josh will shine on forever.

...And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light,
that shines on me,



shine until tomorrow, let it be.


I wake up to the sound of music,
mother Mary comes to me,


there will be no sorrow let it be.


Let it be, let it be, .....

Delicious Ambiguity

"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity."

- Gilda Radner


Circle Limit - M.C. Escher


What an amazing way to look at the changes presented to us in our lives. To think that Gilda was able to articulate this idea so beautifully as she was immersed so suddenly and deeply into the treacherous waters of cancer is a testament to her shining soul.

Sometimes welcome, sometimes despised, Change comes. It can stalk us for days or weeks, or it can assault us suddenly. It may be heralded by great joy, or preceded by angry tears.  Still, it comes, uncaring and even completely unaware of our personal needs or desires.

Change comes. We cannot control it, we cannot avoid it. We can only hope to experience each moment as a sort of delicious ambiguity.

Our beautiful Young Man will soon be released from his tethers to this world. This is the most unwelcome of changes to all of us who love him so dearly. The only ambiguity is in knowing how truly delicious it will be for him to breathe free for eternity.

Memorial Day 2011

"What a cruel thing is war: to separate and destroy families and friends, and mar the purest joys and happiness God has granted us in this world; to fill our hearts with hatred instead of love for our neighbors, and to devastate the fair face of this beautiful world."
 - Robert E. Lee, letter to his wife, 1864

Red Poppy - Georgia O'Keeffe, 1927
Oil on canvas, private collection

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.


We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.


Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army

Granary Burial Ground, Boston, Massachusetts