MORE FUN WITH A-B-C’s AND RHYMING POETRY

Weather:  Cool, breezy, dim. 50 degrees at 4pm. Threatening rain.

Dearest Readers,

We left off in my last blog with letter I (for i-phone). Ready for more?

Granddaughter Rosie’s Alphabet Book has grown from J through R.

 J is for your brother Jack

Who rode his bike

Around the track.

K is for kangaroo

Flying a kite.

Baby Roo in her pouch is holding on tight.

 L is for Linda

Your pretty mother,

Who loves you and Jack

Like no other.

M is for the monkey face

Smiling on Jack’s hoodie.

If he was real

I think he’d play

With you Rosie,

...Could he?

N is for Ni-Ne

A grandma so rare,

Who likes to wear

Plastic clips in her hair.

O is for Osman

Who is your Daddy

He’s strong and kind

And a little chatty.

P is for Pig

Who spends her time

Rooting for food

With her nose in the slime.

Q is for Quack–

The sound of a duck,

Not the bark of a dog

Or the honk of a truck.

R is for Rosie

For whom I took

The time to make

This Alphabet Book.

A-B-C’s AND BAD POETRY

Weather:  Cooler today. Low 60’s. Cloudy and damp-ish.  The return to regular time is messing with my head.

Dearest Readers,

I woke up at 5:48 am, which is now called 4:48 on the standard time clock. It will take a few days for my body to slide back into this regular time frame. I’ll miss the predawn moon and the thick stars. Why do the morning stars outshine the thin-skinned bunch at bedtime? Seriously...at 10:00pm in old time, (two nights ago), just a few sickly stars struggled to shine through the clear, dark sky. The next morning before dawn the same dark sky was full of stars. Hmmm.

I’m making an alphabet book on blurb.com for my two year old granddaughter, Rosie for Christmas.

I’m enjoying the silliness of creating nincompoop drawings and bad-but-cute rhyming poetry to accompany each letter on a page. Ever have the urge to let loose and be a little foolish?

Here are nine crazy creatures I’ve completed so far.
 (P.S. My grandma name is Ni-ne). 

A is for Alfie

He’s strong and he’s quick.

He likes to greet friends

With a bark and a lick.

 B is for Betty

Feisty and small,

Who yelps whenever

Ni-ne comes to call.

 C is a cockatiel named Dudley.

He’s cute and yellow

But not very cuddly.

 D is for Ducky

Who floats in the tub,

Like the three men of old

Who sang rub-a-dub-dub.

E is for Etta

Who has a long nose.

She likes to play outside

With Ni-ne and Rose.

F is for Felix

Shiny and black,

Who swims round and round,

Forward and back.

 G is for goat

Who munches all day

On grass and weeds,

Branches and hay.

H is for hydrant

With a hippo on top,

Who spins and dances

And hates to stop.

 I is for i-phone

Full of apps

For games and weather,

And GPS maps.

 

SANDY, WINDOW POEMS AND QUILTED HEADS

Weather: Low 60’s, sunny, gusty.  40’s tonight.

HURRICANE

I wake to a sound like shimmering satin–

A prom queen maneuvering

Through her moiré gown.

It’s Hurricane Sandy’s entourage,

Swirling leaves, creaking the cedar

That scratches my window,

Twirling the elm

And scattering her bones.

Clouds limned in vampire light

Fast-forward across a full moon.

Somewhere the tide is heaving against a beach

Far and away from here.

     -C.Kane 10.29.2012

Dearest Readers,

Hurricane Sandy swished the hem of her wide flowing robe across Georgia this week, and gave us a taste of her cold windpower. It’s still chilly and a bit breezy, but I can’t complain. We were spared her fury this time.

The past few mornings I’ve awoken before dawn, and turned the crank on my old fashioned window to let in the smells and sounds of autumn. This stirred up memories and plumbed my soul. Two poems emerged in response.

ZERO MASS

That smell snuck in my little window

Like a ghost with zero mass.

She unfurled her wings upon entering,

Swirled around the ceiling and my bed,

Trailing a film of sheer intimations

Of soil mixed with rain and regret.

-C.Kane 10.28.2012

OUT OF THE BLUE  

This knowing is a cloak

Across my shoulders

Bestowed by bluebirds perhaps,

When I was doing something else.

Out of the blue a deep wisdom

Arrived and filled the burrows

Where my blind digging was proceeding.

Like groundwater, it rose into these places

And quietly, without my looking,

Filled in the tunnels and softened the stones.

-C.Kane 10.27.2012

Finally, dear readers, at the risk of overwhelming you with more aspects of my self-portraits of feelings, here are seven vintage hankies that I laser-printed two years ago with my face photographed in the bathroom mirror– 89 consecutive days with my feeling of the moment. I’m quilting them individually now...not for a bedspread or a wall hanging...just for themselves in all their intimacy.  It is tiny, delicate lapwork. I finish about one a week. I needed an antidote to the hole digging, tree hacking, ladder lashing and stone cutting last summer. Have you ever felt the need to act both big and small?

So here they are. Remnants of a Catholic school childhood. Hankies that belonged to Hazel, my mother, that the nuns allowed in the little breast pocket of my grammar school uniform. Appropriated now to investigate who I am in the midst of shifting emotions. 82 more to come.

Day #23. Cuddly

Day #60. Compliant

Day #74. Healthy

Day #75. Alive

 

Day #78. Pumped up

 

Day #80. Loved

Day #87. Helpful