Immigration (WC)

(Wendy Cabell, November 8, 2021, feast day of (above) Our Lady of Good Guard (connected Basilica has fascinating history*), Synaxis of the  Archangel Micheal and the Other Bodiless Powers, Saint William of Bourges and Blessed Isabella of France and other Saints of Evry, feast day of  All Deceased Dominicans and of All Saints of  Wales, feast day of Saint Cybi, Saint Elizabeth of the Trinity, Blessed John Duns Scotis, and Blessed Maria Crucified Satellico. On the Jewish calendar today commemorates the Zachariah's prophesy in Zachariah 7-8; also Purim Teveryah. Image from here.)

Immigration

(Fall, 2021, after the funeral of my Great-Uncle Art)

My great-grandmother, Elizabeth Otten, moved from her native Germany to the US in the 1920's, opening her own restaurant. She lost it in the Great Depression and became manager instead. Throughout it all, a Rosary nestled in her apron pocket. Even during her busy workday, she'd stop right where she was and pray its beads whenever a brief moment allowed.

Our family still has one of the little creme pitchers that helped set the tables in Grandma Otten's restaurant. But the real heirloom has been a continued family devotion to the Rosary. In September of 2021 my great-uncle Art passed away, peacefully while praying the Rosary with his children. I left his funeral with a strange hope, where grief should have dwelt.

       Ascending

  Mary’s Mountain

you leave footholds.     

  

Orphaned pitcher--      

      cream rises

        to top.

*From Wikipedia: The Notre-Dame-de-Bonne-Garde basilica was preceded by a chapel dating back to the days of the Christianization of Île-de-France, built in the oldest place of Marian worship in the region: according to legend, the druids venerated a statue of the Virgin there. even before the passage of Saint Denis, who explained to them that Mary is the mother of Jesus Christ, and that Isaiah's prophecy (7; 14) had already been fulfilled...AA Priscus, chief of the Carnutes tribe, would have requested the statue or its replica and would have transported it to Chartres, where it would be at the origin of the Notre-Dame de Chartres cathedral. According to the canons of the cathedral of Chartres, oaks from Longpont would have been used for the framework of the cathedral, undoubtedly because of the spiritual power emanating from this place in the imagination of the contemporaries...A vestige of the mysterious statue of the Gauls would also remain; it would be embedded in the right leg and foot of the statue of Notre-Dame-de-Bonne-Garde in the axis chapel, which is dedicated to it.”

**Prompted by William Seiyo Shehan’s Virtual Haiku Workshops (September and October 2021), to create a haiku after experiencing Buddist death meditation, and create a haibun on topic of choice.

Labyrinth (WC)

                        

                             

(Wendy Cabell, November 3, 2021 (written previous, see footnotes), feast day of Saint Martin de Porres, Saint Winifred of Wales (her uncle, Saint Bueno Gasulsych, is above), Blessed Ida (Judith/Gutta) of Toggenburg, Blessed Alphais of Cudot, Saint Sylvia of Rome (mother of Saint Gregory the Great/the Dialogist), Saint Snandulia of Persia, and Dedication of the Church of the Greatmartyr George in Lydia. Image from here.)

Labyrinth

Hint: I am a crossroad. It’s

not too late to learn to unwind. Leave

all that’s not kind, behind. Some

things you might find:

     -Softened breath

     -A longing for tea

     -Ears for birdsong

     -Unconscious Psalmody,

           if can only

leave all that’s not kind, behind,

knowing: there is no other

crossing than this.

*From prompt: Freewrite after hearing Wislawa Szymborsk’s Advertisement. The line “It’s not too late to learn to unwind” is a quote from this poem. From Lisa Freedman’s BreatheReadWrite, September 19, 2021.

Rose Fairy (WC)

(Wendy Cabell, October 19, 2021, feast day of the Inner Life of Mary (Sulpicians), of Blessed Agnes of Jesus (who conversed daily with her Guardian Angel),  Prophet Joel, the Marytrs of North America, Saint Frevisse/Frideswide (patroness of Oxford), Saint Cleopatra with her son John. Image from here.)

Rose Fairy

I knew you could hear it. 

Those sounds made by flowers 

as they stretch into the light.* 

Star’s splash as swims the sky. 

Butterfly conducting her bee choir,

         “Dang they're good!”,

while Mama shooshes tiny wings,

“Now just listen”, she says, 

and you do. And

           I follow you.

   Though you don’t know.

         You who know 

            the way to 

           rose-light. 

*Quote from Victor Hernandez Cruz's Here is an Ear Hear.

*From prompt: Freewrite as inspired by Victor Hernandez Cruz’s Here is an Ear Hear. From Lisa Freedman's BreatheReadWrite, October 19, 2021.

Autumnal (WC)

 

(Wendy Cabell, October 17, 2021. Feast day of the Deliverer Icon of the Mother of God, of Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque, Prophet Hosea, Saints Cosmos and Damien, and Saint Solina of Chartres. Jewish calendar remembers the passing of Matriarch Rebecca (1553 BC) and Methuselah (2105 BC). Image from here.)

Autumnal

(upon viewing painting lining a medieval manuscript, of a woman sweeping)

being October perhaps? Then as now—simple tasks,

complex world. World that deepens about now,

      ripens. When then, 

to pick the fruit from the tree?

    When it’s sweet enough

(today’s lesson in Psycho-botany) 

Tonight’s menu to feature

           pumpkin soup.     

Tonight's memory being that moment, you

know the one, air it shifts, wee nip rides the current. 

Gentle at first, stirs a longing. For storytelling, candlelight. 

Warm scarves and hot tea. Till the quiet settles, bidden 

or no. And everything else, it can wait. As we turn—

welcome our kindly guest, 

before she’s gone. 

*From prompt: Freewrite as inspired by etymology of the word orange. From Lisa Freedman's BreatheReadWrite, October 11, 2021. This poem later revisited for revision and inclusion in letter, as part of Daisy Barrett Nash's Writers At Play, letter writing series, 2022.

Things To Do When Taking Tea (WC)

 

(Wendy Cabell, published in Writers At Play Presents: Our Legacy, edited by Daisy Barrett-Nash, Equal Arts, 2022. From September 22, 2021, Autumn Equinox, second day of Sukkot, feast day of  The Hearer Icon of the Mother of God, of (above) Saint Gunthildis, and of Saint Basilia. Image from here.)

Things To Do When Taking Tea

Only in the awareness of the present, 

can your hands feel the pleasant warmth of the cup.

Only in the present, can you savor...-- Thich Nhat Hanh

1. Know that Mother’s milk takes many forms. 

2. Turn over your leaf of choice,

3. tuck into your spacious vessel. 

4. Welcome flame, watch water wake.

5. Let flow upon green, to soften.

 

6. Fill your cup. Drink this, 

      and only this, in

this moment. 

*From prompt of crafting an advice poem: choosing a favorite activity/lesson, choosing six verbs and heading a sentence/point with each one, noting what lines stand out and fine-tuning for deeper sensory detail and use of metaphor/similie. From Daisy Barrett-Nash's Legacy Poetry, September 15 and 22, 2021.

My Good Day (WC)

 

(Wendy Cabell, August 22, 2021, feast day of the Queenship of Mary (yesterday Our Lady of Knock, and tomorrow the Leavetaking of the Assumption/Dormition), and of the above Georgia Icon of the Mother of God. Image from here.)

My Good Day

My good Day stays close to his Mother. 

I pick him up, hold him in my arms. 

Point to bird song out the window. Sing

our own. Pour some tea, stir the porridge.

My good Day sways close to his Mother,

Iooks up -- I hold him in my arms.

He’s heavier now, as sun ups its shine.

Eyes rest on the to-do list. How s l o w l y

a checkmark forms. Day gets fussy. 

Needs a nap. 

My good Day lays close to his Mother. 

I nestle in, hold him in my arms.

But he wriggles, wants to play. Turns to

papers and paints kept handy. Will it be 

chocolate or a novel for candy? Both 

of course. As Day readies for Night, his

real true love. We await her ushering 

s

o

n

g

*From combined prompts: Freewrite as inspired after hearing the original prompt Stanley Moss' "A Poem Called Day", from Lisa Freedman's BreatheReadWrite, August 16, 2021; later revisited after further prompts Chanel Brenner's "Raising Grief " and Jane Kenyon's "Happiness", from from Tresha Faye Haefner (of Poetry Salon)’s Monday Generative Writing class, June 3, 2024.

Homeland Honah Lee (WC)

 

(Wendy Cabell, published in Writers At Play Presents: Our Legacy, edited by Daisy Barrett-Nash, Equal Arts, 2022. From July 20, 2010, feast day of the Chukhloma Icon of the Mother of God, of Saint Elijah the Prophet, Saint Elswith (wife of King Alfred the Great, Saint Edburga of Caistor, Blessed Rita Josefa Pujalte y Sanchez, and Righteous Martyr Maria Skobtsoba. Image above is Saint Margaret of Antioch, from a 14th century Book of Hours, from here.)

Homeland Honah Lee 

(after Puff the Magic Dragon (Leonard Lipton, Peter Yarrow); and inspired by the life of Saint Margaret of Antioch)*

The daughter of a pagan priest, Margaret converted to Christianity [and soon was] tortured and thrown into prison. Whilst there [she] was swallowed by [a] dragon, but emerged from his side unscathed and carrying a Cross after praying for aid. --from Medieval Manuscripts Blog

 

Oh, Puff the Magic Dragon, how'd he come to be?

Swallowed down Saint Margaret crowned, but the Cross set them both free.

Moonlit nights still find them ushering at sea,

Till mist parts through and heart beats new on the shores of Honah Lee.

Childhood turns lucky, with protector Puff. 

He knows the ways to brighter days when the going gets too rough.

Where sunsets melt like ice cream, heart sets to glow,

And with the tide moonbeams to ride, so changed now the below. 

Oh, Puff the Magic Dragon, how'd he come to be?

Swallowed down Saint Margaret crowned, but the Cross set them both free.

Moonlit nights still find them ushering at sea,

Till mist parts through and heart beats new on the shores of Honah Lee.

Brushed by rainbow breezes, a fragile heart can sway,

In ship’s sweet ease through Heaven's seas, rig-ready to this day.

Course she veers is steady, steering wheel it gleams,

For travelin' the bandwagon through each generation's dreams.

I never did have children, as Puff so sagely notes,

"Where's the child with longing wild to sail my magic boats?"

At a loss this leaves me, don't know what to do.

Till see that page is too a stage--and torch gets passed to you.

Oh, Puff the Magic Dragon, how'd he come to be?

Swallowed down Saint Margaret crowned, but the Cross set them both free.

Moonlit nights still find them ushering at sea,

Till mist parts through and heart beats new on the shores of Honah Lee.

*"You know the famous 'lion and lamb' imagery. There's an old discussion in rabbinic writings (based on verses from the prophets) as to whether wild and dangerous beasts will be eradicated when Moshiach comes, or only that their dangerous traits will be transformed. Puff...takes the latter approach."--from here.

**From prompt: "Music we love is part of the legacy we build”, so choose a favorite song from your past. Note favorite lines of the song. Freewrite on memories and emotions the song evokes, on verbs stemming from such memories and emotions, on personifying something about your song as close friend or family. Craft what stands out from your freewriting into a poem, perhaps using a verse from your song's lyrics as the refrain of a Bop style poem, and/or putting bits of the lyrics interspersed in the poem in parenthesis. From Daisy Barrett-Nash’s Legacy Poetry of July 7, 14, and 21, 2021.

Shop of Lost and Found (WC)

 

(Wendy Cabell, July 11, 2021, feast day of Rzhevsk Icon of the Mother of God, of above Saint Benedict, of Saint Euphemia and of Saint Olga. Image is Saint Benedict Making His Nurse's Broken Sieve Whole, from here.)

Shop of Lost and Found

Shaky, I know how things can get. Watch that richter 

scale. Though you can't lose your innocence like they

say. Stupid saying. No, it's nestled 

                         deep, 

                            deep down. Wedged 

by memories of seasides and mother's milk. In dolls' 

dresses and cats' fur and chocolate chip shakes. And 

upping the stakes, in this pulse. This breath. This room, 

(really?), this ground (really). This doorway 

for finding what was 

never lost. 

*From prompt: freewrite as inspired by a lost object that comes to mind after hearing Lucia Perillo's poem Found Object; from Lisa Freedman's Breathe/Read/Write, July 11, 2021.

American Venice (WC)

   

(Wendy Cabell, published in Writers At Play Presents: Our Legacy, edited by Daisy Barrett-Nash, Equal Arts, 2022. Also published in Writers at Play Presents: The Art of Letter Writing, edited by Daisy Barrett-Nash, Equal Arts, 2023. From July 4, 2021, Independence Day, and feast day of the Galatea Icon of the Mother of God, and the Synaxis of the Saints of North America. Image from here.)

American Venice

(memories of Venice Beach, California, 1990's)

They say L.A.'s a rough place. But on these

waters, it's gentle here. Edged between an

army and a Saint,

       (map reads: between Marina del Ray

        and Santa Monica; history reads: the 

        Pacific's little Venice; heart reads: you've 

        made it, sanctuary.) So relax,

let the breeze

wash you through. Skate or swim. Have a smoothie.

Sun it breathes, so you can too. And if it doesn't flow,

just let it go.

Over here now, you can settle. My spot, turned

yours too. Where sand branches right, rocks curve

in. Seat for moonsets, sun rising again. Ice cream 

picnics. Page-turner immersions. Till leave all as toes 

splash wave. Waters whoosh, salt its spray, so

relax. Chill if you will. Because it's not as rough

as they say it is. On these waters, it's gentle here.

Guess that's why it slips away now, weight of soul.

Don't know how it is salt does it. Perhaps the

dolphins assist. Glide. Mother Mary

by their side,

       by Synagogue at beach edge,

       by sidewalk artisans and their wares.

       It takes so many forms, our prayers. Till

       joy's the thing in the end. Everything else just

       pretend. Joy that's pure, kind. So the rest, well,

never mind. And then life's not quite as rough

as they say it is. On these waters,

it's gentle

here.

*From combined prompts: Freewrite about a favorite place: local expressions, ways you might describe the place to someone, things perhaps only you notice here, things the place brings out in you or allows you to do, things you have learned about the place. Weave into a poem in progress. Underline what stands out to you, lines that are striking, good sensory detail. Rewrite lines by devices such as: giving further or deeper sensory detail, incorporating metaphors/similes, using repetition of words or phrases. List questions/mysteries about the place, and in the poem answer them (without listing the questions themselves). From Daisy Barrett-Nash's Legacy Poetry, June 23 and June 30, 2021.