Humble Contributions to the Peoples' History

Archive for April, 2014

Heartfelt Froggy of Ravenwood Pond: A Poem for Children

Heartfelt Frog 

T’was a stormy spring morn at woodland pond
When the Ravens flew from their treetop home,
And found their friend, Froggy, along lily pads
At water’s edge, gazing at the bubbly foam.

“Dear Froggy,” they cawed, “Please hold our magic wand,
As we search far and wide to look for our food.
Our little birdlets are still too young to fly,
We must find something to eat for our growing brood.”

The frog agreed he would guard the wand
And promised to keep it from all danger.
Froggy placed the wand on the lily pad
And vowed to protect it from all strangers.

As lightning bugs danced in the misty air
Froggie gazed on their fleeting reflections,
Dark clouds brought a burst of stormy showers
The wand slipped away, without detection.

Froggy surveyed the nearby lily pad,
But the shiny wand was now gone.
As rain drops slipped off the leaves, He cried,
Oh, no! it’s lost at the bottom of the pond!

He sat on the shore for a very long time
But he knew that he mustn’t stay fraught.
Froggie had let down his Raven friends.
He grasped his heart, “I’m so sorry,” he thought.

Froggie peered through the muddied water
And held his breath and swam down deep.
He searched through the muddy goo
Finding only twigs, he piled them in a heap.

In the distance Froggie heard the Raven’s call
But he knew that he must not stop.
With one more deep breath, dove down again
Found the wand! and swam to the waters’ top.

The Ravens flew to their friend, Froggy,
Now tightly holding their magic wand.
The Ravens could see what the Froggie had done
Then called to frog, “Please come out of the pond.”

Froggie was sad, as he had lost their wand
But the Ravens comforted him and said,
“You worked so hard to find what was lost.
Come and join us now and share our bread.”

The end of the story can now be told.
As friends they remained in their woodland haven.
For a heartfelt response means more than gold
For this we’ll remember–the Froggie and the Ravens.

Beyond Redemption?

A good novel so captures the imagination that I attempted to put that idea into a sculpture project.

Working with porcelain, I carved the clay into a book and then created a scene from Herman Melville’s literary masterpiece, Moby Dick. As the piece air-dried, I had to fix and fix again the clay cracking along the sides but finally stabilized the splitting. Unfortunately, when it came out of the kiln, the book had nearly broken in two with a quarter-inch gap across the front. A corner had fallen off, and sides had split and warped in several sections. Still, I set to work to see if I could make repairs. With glue, paint and glaze I began the patching process thinking that, in the end, this is not going to work.

Cracks on the Underside

Cracks on the Underside

Well, I’ll leave the question about redemption with you, in either case, the whale and Captain Ahab–or the sculpture.

 

Moby Dick4

Weekly Writing Challenge: Time Machine

Travel has sharpened my awareness of the passage of time, whether observing the erosive forces on the Grand Canyon or the sea carving inlets on the coast of Ireland.

Recording family history has also expanded my perceptions of time: how families have lived out their days in cycles of births, marriages, and passings. Sometimes I cannot tell whether I am in their time or my own as these dimensions seem to meld together.

Whether we wake or we sleep,
Whether we carol or weep,
The Sun with his Planets in chime,
Marketh the going of Time.
~Edward Fitzgerald

Music by Enya

Weekly Writing Challenge: Time Machine

Emergence

For Women who have Resolved to Work for the Common Good of Humanity.

Emergence

The world enclosed and darkened inside my head
Not even dreams materialized as I lie in bed
Discord delivered echoing despair
And yet . . .  guided me to your sheltered lair.

I found you, though you were there all along
You entered into my soul as an enchanting song
With leonine magnificence, so noble, so sublime
Intrepid lover of art, beauty, truth and rhyme.

This miracle then cleansed my mind
Reborn to a new life refined.
I laughed and learned to forgive.
My heart opened­–I began to live.

And yet what you are is an illusion in time.
This noble ideal can only exist in my mind.
Never to feel your warmth that a Lover knows
Or touch the fabric of your roughened clothes.

But how to create harmony again from sighs.
To feel the exhilaration of the highs
And experience truth from melodious lows.
Not to be played out as a duet but as a solo.

Embraced by the power of this measure
Hearing music of souls joined together
Triumphs in splendor as shimmering sounds
With knowledge and passion that knows no bounds.

I arise from this dream and rebirth
Resolved to become a heroine on earth.

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