For WWP 176 Cattail Muse: a haibun: Hertz to Heal

http://wewritepoems.wordpress.com/2013/09/26/prompt-176-the-doors-of-perception/

show what happens to your character because of his/her/its/their perception changing.

The 4th in a series for WWP

Cattail Muse: a haibun: Hertz to Heal

Opportunity didn’t exactly come knocking

On a rainy autumn day - it came mewing, a visitor

How long would this furry companion stay

I wasn’t exactly how sure how long I needed

To be here or if I’d stay forever in my grandparents dream

Their home and treasures begging to be undusted

Were they mine to embrace, challenge, or just

Some ancient history to be cataloged, displayed or stored

Circular directions, always beginning at some end

And now here in my lap a stray, yet smiling cat

More than a pleasant distraction -  a pleasant purr

Erupts from my lap - leading me to look outside

The box I have cornered myself into, something

Actually alive to liven up this historical dominion, this

Museum of memories, this memorial monument...

~~~

She can think that I purr because I am content -

And I suppose that for the most part that too is true, but

I purr also to heal myself, until just a smile remains...

~~~

together, basking

female and feline rest

together, healing

http://visual.ly/healing-power-cat-purrs   & http://www.scientificamerican.com/article.cfm?id=why-do-cats-purr

©JP/davh     

The whole series: http://juleslongerstrandsofgems.wordpress.com/cattail-muse-for-wwp/

Miz Q's backroom Prompts for September

Three prompts for September:

http://backroomq.wordpress.com/septembercaesura/where-to-begin-where-to-begin/

Curve the Learning

My father’s shadow is…now a haunting memory
Looking in the mirror and seeing every day his features
On my feminine face, the second daughter who was not a son
But perhaps acted like one…tomboy, rebellious rebel

The middle child, second of his first wife – she died.
The second wife gave him his son, – but then took him away -
Though they did eventually meet and then that son
gave him a son to carry on his sacred name…

So I was not the first and not the last, that in between
Half scowling, sometimes silent, other times aggressively outspoken
Daughter who wanted answers that she waited to long to ask
So then will never get answered…so many secrets.

I’ve learned that shadows are good at keeping secrets -
I’ve learned that I can still love a memory of the man who was true to himself
I’ve learned that I can take what I have been given and make light…
I’ve learned that the words I write settle down just right…

The blood that runs through my veins had to start somewhere…
And with the help of his third wife – that mothers come in all shapes and sizes
While I may not be able to see my features in her face, I know of her love
For me, and the love she had for my father…and the solid being that he was.

©JP/davh

With Thanks to http://themirrorobscura.com/2013/09/22/my-fathers-shadow/
Where the last line, which also happens to be the title comes from.

~~~~~~~~~~

http://backroomq.wordpress.com/septembercaesura/picture-this/

Bartolomé Esteban Murillo: A Girl and her Duenna

computations

was anyone with me all those lonely nights
when upstairs they shielded themselves
from the outside world, together
when the whole or most of it, the basement
which was divided and turned into
a shared sitting area and shared room, loomed
all the more empty because the sibling was away
so there I lay alone without window, in the dark
on a bed that was too short,
because I was the youngest…

was anyone with me when I rode the crowded bus
to and from the apartment on the edge of town
because I had no car, I had wrecked it in a rage
to escape the house that I had no say in
but had stayed in, to almost be their slave in…

was anyone with me in the home that edged
the wood where the vents trumpeted repeated
accusations and arguments into the small morning hours
there too, I made myself scarce while attempting
to heal scars that were never explained just rearranged
at their convenience – until some great force of reckoning
heard a plea, my begging to be free, yet willing to
follow certain traditions until a different knot was tied

would it have been any different if I had a guardian?
a chaperone who actually cared beyond the basics,
a set of parental units who didn’t need me as a friend…

©JP/davh

~~~~~~~~~~

http://backroomq.wordpress.com/septembercaesura/amplify-ky/

Two the Nines

The fabric was new once
From the thrift shop it is new to me

Fancy for the plain me, the plan
Is to use the jacket and the dress

To look my best, if that is possible
For several different occasions

©JP/davh

XIII

XIII

thirteen has a unique reputation

there is history, mystery and manipulation

yet for me, I adore the chance and change

of fate that this lovely little oddity brings...

once long ago, with a longing and a lump -

in his pocket, and one in his throat,

knowing yet hoping just the same, the answer

to the question he proposed...

makes the date of the day for us, joyous.

every time and any time it falls upon the calendar -

but then we have our own unique reputation,

binding history, giggles of mystery without hesitation

and today is extra special being so close

to our actual wedding anniversary -

where vows were shared when we said;

‘Yes’ to each other - so romantically

those misfortunes that occur are just superstition

believe in good luck and take back this prime number

bakers have used it to protect themselves - though some

buildings refuse to use such a numbered floor for living...

originally there were thirteen sun signs - when

astrology was an accepted practice...

thirteen was a favorite number of a grandmother -

a birthday of more than one relative however relative

so to those who may fumble, stumble and moan please

give true credit where it is, however unlikely due - to you

©JP/davh

Note:

A baker's dozen, devil's dozen, long dozen, or long measure is 13, one more than a standard dozen. The oldest known source for the expression "baker's dozen" dates to the 13th century in one of the earliest English statutes, instituted during the reign of Henry III (1216–72), called the Assize of Bread and Ale. Bakers who were found to have shortchanged customers (some variations say that they would sell hollow bread) could be subject to severe punishment includingjudicial amputation of a hand. To guard against losing a hand to an axe, a baker would give 13 for the price of 12 in order to be certain of not being known as a cheat. Specifically, the practice of baking 13 items for an intended dozen was insurance against "short measure", on the basis that one of the 13 could be lost, eaten, burnt, or ruined in some way, leaving the baker with the original legal dozen. The practice can be seen in the guild codes of the Worshipful Company of Bakers in London.  

Ensorcelled : for WWP 174

http://wewritepoems.wordpress.com/2013/09/12/prompt-174-meet-the-natives/

Second of four in a series for WWP

Cattail Muse: a haibun: Ensorcelled

Unexpected a wet cat on my porch...

I didn’t even hear the rain, in my distracted mood

so topsy turvy, unsettled in this house

I am Clara - the daughter of dreamers

grounded by the generations that have left me

this old yet updated cottage of collected memories

I’d be the first to say to Dorothy...

That I certainly believe - I’m not in Kansas anymore

though I’ve never been there, except when reading Baum.

This house was built in the eighteen hundreds

and has about one hundred and forty years of secrets

and now I’ll be adding my broken hearted sighs

Best see about drying up this tangled mass -

“Cat? I think I have some tuna in the cupboard. Yes, Cat

I am speaking to you. No collar, no name - yet...”

~~~

Was this a house or a museum -  ‘it’ isn’t very large.

But it is dry and her heart speaks volumes - And she is gentle

and says; “I think I have some tuna...”  I am in, like Flynn.

~~~

conscientious

of reality, shadows

diminish with light

Note: "In like Flynn" is a slang phrase meaning "having achieved a goal or gained access as desired"

Ensorcelled fits - look it up :)

©JP/davh   

Two Parts: Prose and a Renga

Two parts: Prose and a renga

relic?

art represents many things to many people

form and function, grace and beauty

symbols of power to be feared and destroyed...

that two men who could be brothers can

fight with each other - unwilling to bend

what symbolic harvest lays to waste and ruin

where is the greater good when disfunction

rules and blinds hearts and binds slaves

and adds salt to open wounds of history...

reward?

out of the ashes

the phoenix rises pure

wanting a safe roost

will any human on earth

be able to offer such

adapt and accept

peace - live harmoniously

out of the ashes

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phoenix_(mythology)

©JP/davh

For WWP 173: Grimalkin?

http://wewritepoems.wordpress.com/2013/09/05/prompt-173-culture-shock/

“What you see and what you hear depends a great deal on where you are standing. It also depends on what sort of person you are.” – C.S. Lewis

first of four in a series for WWP

Cattail Muse  :  a haibun:   Grimalkin?

Unexpected my being here...

not unexpected landing on my feet -

that is a given for a cat with unlimited lives

I am whole - in front of the your door...

will you let me in? Fur askew, whiskers dripping

from the storm brewed by your emotions

I’d be the first to say to Dorothy...

That I certainly believe - I’m not in Kansas anymore

much less my casual haunts of Wonderland

That are in almost every library

public and private in languages familiar and strange -

just another doorway to the unexplained - for me

And yet my fur is heavy my mew weak

have you any milk for me to lap between my cheek?

This solid mass has me at a slight disadvantage.

~~~

Bending down to get the mail, from the slot in the door

Clara heard the cat - lifted the brass flap and saw a question

forming in the huge green eyes; “Will you let me in?”

~~~

demanding presence

on whatever stage entered -

cats commandeer us

Note: Surely you have guessed who the cat is? More than just a smile;

The Cheshire Cat is out of his element ...for the moment. Thank you C. S. Lewis.

©JP/davh  

Disconnected : for Tuesday Tryouts

For Margo Roby : Wordgathering

Disconnected

statements ~ sentiments ~ sentencing

I’ve lived in to too many -

am I supposed to be attached

to the state of my birth?

Or the one that most of the family

lived in for a while.

The state of my first home

as a homeowner, the one we

thought was a good buy,

the one we enjoyed

but had to say goodbye to.

How about the state that

I’ve lived in the longest?

Frankly, I think the best state

is the one I’ll share with the love

of my life. Corny, but true.

I enjoy my four seasons -

each about three months long

And the bird song all year round.

The trees that shed,

and the evergreens.

I’m in the suburbs

between the city and the farms...

they both have their charms.

I think it all boils down to

my mental state. Sentencing

my sentiments in statements...

©JP/davh

Ignition for We Write Poems 172

http://wewritepoems.wordpress.com/2013/08/29/prompt-172-breaking-through/

Humanity is the start of the race

Humanity is the mold to break away from

Humanity is … the crust to break through,

[the coal to break into fire... ]

from The Death & Life of Monterey Bay, Stephen R. Palumbi and Carolyn Sotka

Ignition

Humanity can be the tortoise or the hare

because the finish line isn’t what matters -

it’s the journey; the seed, the tree, the branch.

And the scissor that cuts the apron strings.

Passion can rule, ruin and gently play in

a shadowy edge or a brilliant sun blinding,

burning discretion or common sense that

is perceived as that which is a binding truth

Humanity can be the stiff shield around

the loaf or the cooked dough that it encases -

It has been said ‘humans are what they eat’.

Both body and soul needs to be nurtured.

Passion is the heat of one's’ emotional heart

the direction taken can be coy, honest or brutal -

crawling, walking or running to and from

what we want to learn and what is feared.

Humanity is walking upright on two legs, using

an outstretched hand to grasp and aide or

shun and ridicule anything that gets in its way -

Hope for the former, dissuade the latter.  

© JP/davh