December Poetry Challenge
I cannot tell a lie. On day two of this challenge I’m already struggling. I may bend the rules a little and skip the odd day, or write more than one poem on the days when I can. That’s better than posting just because I said I would… and posting something that I don’t feel measures up.
I’m living and breathing poetry now; while I brush my teeth, do the dishes, or make the bed. Every idea or visual I recall is considered as fodder for the next poem. Makes me laugh and that’s a good thing, because I could easily take this way too seriously. Ya think?
The story behind this poem comes from childhood memories when I lived on a farm in northern Ontario. Winters were blustery and our house would turn quite chilly overnight.
My grandmother, who I was very close to and who passed away in 1991, would rise before any of us to build a fire in the fireplace. By the time we all woke and gathered downstairs the fire was alive and crackling. The kitchen was warm and comfortable.
Grandmother’s spark
My grandmother wakes at the spark of dawn,
stirs from her bed with a whisper.
Her shadowy silhouette withered and drawn,
eclipsed by the sunlight that kissed her.
A wintry breath, so rhythmic and deep,
twisted fingers of frost in the air.
The farmhouse rests in a seasonal sleep,
Smouldering, yet aware.
A smile flickers through grandmother’s eyes,
frozen memories rekindled and strong.
Glowing red embers, a long wintry sigh,
ignites a familiar song.
Withered and drawn, lingering, kneeling,
palms cradle the glow of the blaze.
Thoughts are alive, tender with feeling
surprised, it’s my own hands that catch my gaze.
Photo credit: Npmusikchild
Linda
Barbara Swafford
Deb Dorchak
Tony Single
Chris Edgar
Sara
Jeffrey Willius
Doug Gene
{ 17 comments }
WOW! This poem is beautiful. This poem came from the heart and it shows. This is a great tribute to your grandmother who was there for you with her love and care. And I thought I did not like poetry. Go figure!
Hi Davina – I don’t know why but this one has made me a little verklempt! It’s such a sweet memory all wrapped up in the glow of the fire and the metaphor of the embers keeping the house and your love for her alive . . . well, just marvelous. Thank you for these gifts!
.-= Betsy Wuebker´s last blog ..A Potluck Full of Do and Feel Good =-.
I agree with Betsy — a lovely glimpse of your grandmother and your feelings for her.
.-= Dot´s last blog ..Comment on Full Disclosure by Patricia =-.
Today’s poem is sooo touching. …and the surprise twist at the end… Full circle, connections, family, timelessness… There’s just so much comfort here. It’s beautiful.
Davina, I’m repeating myself: You are a natural. And to prove it: “I’m living and breathing poetry now…” You are swimming in the flow. Don’t think too little of this wonderful talent. You are so good! If you still doubt, consider submitting some of these beautiful stories (for that’s what they are) to poetry contests. I’d be very surprised if you didn’t win a prize and even be asked for permission to have some included in an anthology.
.-= Julie´s last blog ..A Different Thanksgiving =-.
Hey Davina,
Another fantastic poem for today! I adore the farmhouse metaphor…I always love watching for reddish fireplace windows when driving in the country at night.
.-= Matthew Dryden´s last blog ..The Macabre Potter =-.
Nice capture of the essence of a thing! You have a gift!
“I’m living and breathing poetry now…” — let it carry you through your doubts.
.-= Lori Hoeck´s last blog ..How a family password keeps your kids safer =-.
Beautiful.
My grandma was a hard working person too. I often miss her.
.-= vered | blogger for hire´s last blog ..Former Miss Argentina Dies After Cosmetic Surgery =-.
Hi Davina .. I too think you’re a natural ..that is lovely – I’ll copy it out and read it to my mother .. she’d love it.
I can’t write poetry .. I’m fairly sure .. but I’d love to submit something that sings to my heart .. and give a little bit of extra .. not too much effort – but fun .. I could do a couple in December .. I’m sure a few others could help out ..
That memory is brilliant .. hearthside – I did a note on Yule tide for a friend who was giving a Christmas tea party to the residents in Mum’s home – unfortunatley we can’t go .. nil by mouth .. the yule log – was a real log dragged to the hearth in exchange for free beer from the farmer’s wife! So I’ve been thinking of hearthsides today .. I don’t have one!! Sad .. wish I did ..
Great – please keep it up .. it is so good ..
Hilary Melton-Butcher
Positive Letters Inspirational Stories
.-= Hilary´s last blog ..What Christmas memory comes back to you at the beginning of December? =-.
So beautiful. I’m trying to make my way around to read each of these!! Hang in there.
lovely, and makes me think of my grandmother…and wonder about my paternal grandmother who I did not know but must be very must alike…maybe I have her hands.
Keep pushing…we will enjoy the rough ones too…it’s all part of it…but how exciting
.-= patricia´s last blog ..Tripping and Reading the Light Fantastic =-.
Yes, WOW! The hands twist really got me.
I think it’s so wonderful to live and breathe poetry. I’ve had a few form in my head lately but I’ve let them slip away. Oh well. There will be more.
I miss both my grandmas too, they were such special special people, as most grandmas are. I think if I am a Grannie Jannie one day it will be the best thing ever.
Cool on the poetry. I’ll have to check out the others.
.-= Jannie Funster´s last blog ..Getting To Know Him… Getting To Know All About A Wonderful Blogger. =-.
Hi Jim.
Thanks for the comment. It’s always nice to have a non-blogger friend drop in :) WOW! You read poetry!
Hi Betsy.
You’re welcome :) Verklempt — I learned a new word today. Aren’t grandmothers a blessing?
Hi Dot.
Thank you. My grammie was very speshul!
Hi Julie.
Thanks :-D This gives me a lot of pleasure, writing like this. It feels like by allowing this to emerge, I’m being massaged in some way. Hard to explain, but I truly love doing this. Thanks for your suggestions; I’ll keep my eyes peeled for contests…
Hi Matthew.
Thanks for popping in! Driving in the country at night — ah, nice memory. It’s neat to peek in the windows on the way by for a glimpse of “family”.
Hi Lori.
Thank you! And thanks for the advice to carry me through the doubts. Now all I need are 3 or 4 more hours in the day! :-)
Hi Vered.
Glad you enjoyed this. Grandmother connections run deep, don’t they?
Hi Hilary.
Awh, I’m touched that you are going to share it with your mother. I don’t have a fireplace either and you talking about a yule log has inspired me to put on a virtual fireplace CD tonight; complete with the crackling sound in the background. Give a poem a try… I’d love to read one from you. Just think about something that opens up feelings and let the words pour out. Let the story talk to you. It doesn’t have to rhyme.
Hi Tammy.
It’s great to see you! :-D I’m hanging in there… just. But pumped nevertheless.
Hi Patricia.
Hey, maybe I’ll write a rough one on purpose. THAT would be fun! Thanks for the support :-) So, you were adopted Patricia?
Hi Jannie.
Thank you. You, my girl, are AWESOME with words. I remember that post of Barbara Swafford’s where you replied to all the comments in rap. Watching a true artist in action — it was fantastic!
Hi Davina,
Mmmmm! This poem brings back wonderful memories of my grandmother who also was the first to rise, building the fire and then starting breakfast.
Grandmothers truly are special people.
And you’re a very good poet.
.-= Barbara Swafford´s last blog ..Save Time – Copy & Paste A Post =-.
oh I was typing too fast…much not must…I was late for my workshop I was having so much fun on twitter and reading posts!
No I was not adopted!…My maternal Grandparents lived in Winnepeg and came to White Rock when I set off for College. I only spent like a few weeks with them in my life. My Paternal Grandparents were from Scotland via Kenora, Ontario…my PG’s died of TB when my father was 9 (the middle child of 5 boys) and his father was killed in a hunting accident when he was 11 or 12 ( I have one picture of them) and only a couple of stories…the boys were farmed out to various relatives across Canada.
.-= patricia´s last blog ..Tripping and Reading the Light Fantastic =-.
Hi Barbara.
I wonder how they did it… getting up that early. The older I get, the later I seem to want to sleep. It was comforting to wake up and have the fire built and breakfast served. The good old days!
Hi Patricia.
Having fun on twitter? :-) Thanks for the clarification. I wondered about that because I don’t ever remember reading that you were adopted.
I loved this one too Davina. Did the part at the end refer to how you feel about aging yourself? Tell me if I’m wrong – I’m not great at interpreting the meaning of poems.
.-= Cath Lawson´s last blog ..Does Social Networking Improve Your Business & Your Brain? =-.
Oooh I like that perspective! Not what I was thinking when I wrote the poem… but with poems, they take you where you land. Any interpretation goes. The angle I was using was that I had lit a fire and was daydreaming about when my grandmother was still alive. I came back to reality at the end to see my own hands.
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