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.

By Hand (WC)

  

(Wendy Cabell, June 20, 2021, Pentecost (image above) in Orthodox Church. Feast day of  the Directress Icon of the Mother of God from the Monastery of Xenophontos,  of Saint Edburga Virgin of Caistor (whose sister was wife of Saint Albert), and of  Blessed Margareta Ebner. Image from here.)

By Hand

(after Lucille Cliffton's Slaveships)


Can the tongue speak? If it does, can I
trust it? Which is deeper then, history or
poetry? Journal or
legend?

Can the tongue speak? If not, the body
will. Be it spasm, sigh or song. Can I trust
it? Which is deeper then, the word or the
flow?

Can the tongue speak? Inner man's tongue is
tied, fatigued by screen. Can I trust it? Which
is deeper then, the knowing or the
showing?

Can the tongue speak? Mine, yours. Back
and forth. Voicing, listening. What I want to
do is trust this. Deepest ground, passing
down, hand to
hand.

*From prompt: freewrite as inspired by Lucille Cliffton's Slaveships, whose line "Can the tongue speak" is used above; from Lisa Freedman's Breathe/Read/Write, June 20, 2021.  

Circled (WC)

  

(Wendy Cabell, June 18, 2021 (updated October 1), feast day of above Saint Theneva (Thaney, Enoch, Teneu) of Glasow. On the the Jewish calendar (in 1834) the Spanish Inquisition was abolished. Image from Mull Monastery of Scotland)

Circled

As life moves along in procession, temptation's 

to search for succession. It's not found. Circles 

abound. One day lingers. Then another. Is this 

what it means to mother? To hold a moment 

softly, let it grow. 

As life moves along in procession, night 

approaches. As it's done every day until now. 

Eyes closing, I look for succession. It's not

found. Circles abound. Is this what it means

to be mothered? Held and sensing tideline's

fencing, rocked

to flow. 

*From prompt: freewrite as inspired by the etymology of the word process, and by our opening up process as covig restrictions are loosening; from Lisa Freedman's Breathe/Read/Write, June 18, 2021. 

With Unicorn Candor (WC)

 

(Wendy Cabell, June 13, 2021. On the heels of the new moon and the feast days of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and Immaculate Heart of Mary, today is the feast day of the above Blessed Marianna Biernacka (her still living granddaughter sings in video here). Also feast day of Saint Anthony of Padua, and the Transfer of the Relics of Saint Paraskeve the New. On the Jewish calendar today is 3 Tammuz, commemorating the (1273 BC) miracle of Prophet Joshua and the stopping of the sun (see Joshua 10:12, and here), and the yahrtzeit (passing) of the Lubavitcher Rebbe. Image from here.)

With Unicorn Candor

(Or: How to Part Avalon's Mist)

When one passes from under the law of prohibitions to live 

under the benign influences of the law of the Beatitudes... 

they pass into another atmosphere where love 

reigns... They launch out into the deep, put 

forth their powers, and strive to live rather than not to die—

to do good rather than not to do evil, to put forth all their

strength and energy in the loving service of God and man.

--Fr. Basil Maturin, Spiritual Guidelines for Souls Seeking God

With unicorn candor could climb pastel mountains. 

Meek streams there, gentled touch. Never mind the

scattered ground, streams take focus. As daisies of a 

sudden stop one's tracks. Reminding to look up at the why--

Mountain view. With unicorn candor (but not until), can climb.

Candor: from the Latin, whiteness, brightness. 

Evolved to extreme brightness. Evolved to purity, 

openness. Evolved to openness of mind, impartiality, 

frankness, freedom from reserve or disguise. 

So, what's this now? Stripping down to 

white unicorn, I suppose, 

Single horn. No duplicity.

Soft mane, gentled mind. 

Leaving all else behind,

to climb said 

Mountain.

*See etymonline.com, here

**From prompt: freewrite an 11 line/11 component poem as inspired after reading Gerrit Lansing's A Poem of Love in Eleven Lines...from which comes the above line "with unicorn candor"; Lisa Freedman's Breathe/Read/Write, June 11, 2021. 

 

Itinerary of Unabashed Gratitude (WC)

 

(Wendy Cabell, May 30, 2021, feast day of above Blessed Marie-Céline of the Presentation, Saint Dymphna, Saint Basil the Elder, and Saint Emmelia. Image from here.)

Itinerary of Unabashed Gratitude

1. Morningtide:
brings warm covers. Soul returned. Candle-lit Icons. And you are here, holy ones. And tea and porridge, almond laced. Soon Joseph yawning, stretching awake. Day begins.


2. Noontide:
lands with sun, overhead. If can't see it, can feel it. So onto letters, calls and classes, Spirit roaming. While body catches up supine cycling, drinks in the flow. Day moves, pulse.


3. Eventide:
falls in muffled hush. Computer's off (sometimes), day mulled over. And it's never all sorted out. Ever catch-up. While reminded life's a mountain can't reach top of. Found treasure, this trail of ever unknown.


4. Nighttide:
opens up nook to curl in. Stars a blanket. Bed a boat. Placing soul in Your hands, day cast upon the waters. Carried. Knowing I'll wake to You one way or another. And that You Yourself will bring me to the day I next need know.

*from promp:t freewrite as inspired by Ross Gay's Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude; from Lisa Freedman's Breathe/Read/Write, May 28, 2021.  

Nighttide (WC)

(Wendy Cabell, May 28, feast day of the above Nicea Icon of the Mother of God, and of Blessed Maria Bagnesi and Blessed Margaret Plantagenet Pole**. Today on the Jewish calendar, Noah's ark came to rest on Mount Ararat (2105 BC). Image from here.)

Nighttide

opens up nook to curl in.
Stars a blanket. Bed a boat.
Placing my soul in Your hands,
day cast upon the waters.
Carried. Knowing I'll

      wake to You
       one way or
      another. And

that You Yourself will
bring me to the day I
   next need know.



*from prompt: freewrite as inspired by Ross Gay's Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude; from Lisa Freedman's Breathe/Read/Write, May 28, 2021. (Note: fuller version of poem is here.)

**Ancestry note: "Henry VII arranged for Margaret [Plantagenet] to be married to Sir Richard Pole, whose mother was a half-sister to Henry’s own mother, Margaret Beaufort. Pole’s father was Geoffrey Pole, esquire, who may have been descended from the Welsh princes of Powys", from here.

Silken Road (WC)

(Wendy Cabell, published in Writers at Play Presents: The Art of Letter Writing, edited by Daisy Barrett-Nash, Equal Arts, 2023. From May 23, 2021, feast day of Pentecost (above), and on Jewish calendar is Sivan 12, end of Shavout fulfillment days. Feast day of the "You Are a Vineyard" Icon of the Mother of God, and of Saint Euphrosyne. Image from here.)

Silken Road

The ways thereof be fair ways, and 

all the paths thereof be peaceable.

-- Proverbs 3:17, Wycliffe Bible

Truth is, I'd rather be listening. Pen set down

every now and again. Story and fable and mind now at  

rest. Leisure's guest. The truth is the truth gets buried. Hence

its unraveling in tale. Easing of silken road. As for me (turning 

Skyward): Mother please, tell me a story! Never ending, until 

You say so. The truth is, I'd rather be listening. 

*From prompt: freewrite as inspired by Alberto Rios' Even-Keeled and At-Ease, from Lisa Freedman's Breathe/Read/Write, May 23, 2021.

Seasoning (WC)

 

(Wendy Cabell, May 22, 2021, feast day of above Cyprus Icon of the Mother of God, and of Saint Rita of Cascia, Saint Quiteria, Saint Humility, and Righteous Melchizedek, Image from here.

Seasoning

Season (v.): "improve the flavor of by adding spices,"

c. 1300 --etymology.com

Jumble of spices on shelf, seek arrangement. For outpouring 

into palm. Into moment. Sprinkled joy, taste of Heaven's 

myrrh. Moment's birth. As strife meets spice of life meets 

kitchen's mess meets (how is it? even so,) this day

to live as God's guest.

*From prompt: freewrite as inspired by a definition of season; from Lisa Freedman's Breathe/Read/Write, May 14, 2021.

Third Cup (WC)

(Wendy Cabell, published in Writers At Play Presents: Our Legacy, edited by Daisy Barrett-Nash, Equal Arts, 2022. From May 21, 2021, feast day of the above Tenderness Icon of the Mother of God from the Pskov Caves, and of Saints Constantine and Helen, and Saint Isberga. On the Jewish calendar it is 19 Sivan, when (in 1849) Wolf Wissotzky established Wissotzky Tea, the leading tea company in Israel. Image from here.)

Third Cup

The first time you share tea... you are a stranger. 

The second time you take tea, you are an honored guest. 

The third time you share a cup of tea, you become family.

--Greg Mortenson, Three Cups of Tea

Warm belly here,

purring cat. Yet

it comforts not

over and around 

the flash and the loud.

Or take this cup,

swirl of tea: 

its treasure of taste, 

hidden in haste,

over and around 

the flash and the loud.

Till softened mind, 

sheds light kind 

on all we simply touch--

to swoosh, 

      right over and around, 

the flash and the loud.

*From prompt: offer life advice in the form of a bop poem, from Daisy Barrett-Nash's Legacy Poetry, May 19, 2021.