A Poem a Day, Week 12, March 19-25, 2022

 A Poem a Day, Week 12: March 19 to 25, 2022

Welcome to Sifting the Rubble's weekly blog and podcast of my poem-a-day challenge for 2022.  I am your host, and poet, Emily Gibson.  The poems for the 12th week, Mar 19-25, were heavily influenced by nature and by a set of photos my brother sent me from our childhood.   I find writing using a photo as inspiration to be quite freeing.    Often surprising, as well.  The greatest treat of this week was a spider rescue that ended up completely upending my morning routine with a field trip to the high desert wilderness.

This week, I also made progress in creating Sifting the Rubble's digital home base, Siftingtherubble.com   Still have many miles of work until completion, of course.    Working on a logo and brand-portfolio for the website and podcast branding, which is a big step towards making the podcast a reality!  Looking forward to unveiling when the time comes.  

Meanwhile, the cluster of social media accounts is up and running.  You can find Sifting the Rubble on multiple platforms now!

Daily poetry posts are on: 

Facebook : https://www.facebook.com/BlueheronELG 

Weekly posts of the Poem a Day blog and podcasts are on:

Twitter  https://twitter.com/SiftingThe

Instagram https://www.instagram.com/sifting_the_rubble/

Blogspot: https://siftingtherubble.blogspot.com/

Please like and follow and share in whichever ways suit you.  Thank you! :)

And now, for this week's poems!

Listen to Week 12 Poetry Podcast

Poem #78, Stoicisms

by Emily Gibson, Mar 19, 2022

If owning a bread machine makes you a baker,

Then having a bicycle proves you’re a cyclist.

If a notebook on a table documents you’re a writer,

Then a guitar on the wall demonstrates you play music.

If wearing glasses confirms you see, 

Then hearing voices evidences you listened.

If a license in your wallet vouches you drive,

Then a business card establishes you work.

If your maturity is corroborated by another birthday,

Then your frugality is substantiated by a savings account.

Wisdom of the Stoics inspires otherwise:

Abandon acknowledgement of fickle others

Who change bars and measures 

With the frequency of whims.

Actions make meaning

Not possessions.

Let the proof be in the putting

Of one step after the other done.

Go do what you want to be.

About Stoicisms: This poem was inspired by a line from The Daily Stoic: “A degree on a wall means you're educated as much as shoes on your feet mean you're walking" p. 92. This theme, of doing what you want to be, is the theme of this year, and the theme of this poetry challenge. It doesn't matter what anyone else has to say about what you are doing, because we are all going to be dust soon anyway, and whatever opinions others have, they will amount to dust, as well. So do what makes you happy, and thrive in the doing! In the first stanza, I played with different pairs, matching the pair of degree and shoes in the quote. The second stanza is the explanation.

Poem #79, Stump

by Emily Gibson, Mar 20, 2022

Before the swing set

There was a stump.

Challenge for toddlers

To push their edge.

Climb the wood ladder

Stand at the top, triumphant.

Look down, imagine, feel

What this massive old-growth

Redwood tree once was.

Twin calves shoot up

From ancient roots,

Already eyeing the clouds

With cloned memories

Of how the wind feels.

Crawl up the secret passage 

Between the young trees

To the gray stump,

Don’t fall in the middle hole.

Find nooks, hide treasures,

Make maps to lead 

to secrets

Or astray.  You choose.

As we grew bigger

The stump grew smaller

Deteriorating in time

Shrinking before our eyes.

About Stump: When I saw this photo, I immediately wanted to write a companion poem to the Swing set poem from Week 5. I remembered how the call of "I'm going to the Stump" was replaced by "Going to the swing set" as we moved from young child to older child. And I still have some of the treasure maps I made, including the one with a wild goose chase that was, in hind sight, obviously an astray. We were beyond fortunate to have these outdoor challenges as we grew up.

Poem #80, Enough is Enough

by Emily Gibson, Mar 21, 2022

You broke the cycle

Severed the chain

Stopped the generational pain.

It was enough.

More than enough:

A gift to the world,

To us

To yourself.

About Enough is Enough: The photo of my mom that inspired this poem is from when we first moved to the house in the redwoods on Quarry Road. In her early 20s, she is luminous in this photo, with Wally, her dog. She broke many traditions of living, as many young adults in the 60s did, much to the frustration of her parents. In this poem I wanted to honor the effort, awareness, and strength it took for her to break the patterns of emotional abuse and neglect she experienced as a child (and her parents before her, and her grandparents before them...). While our childhood was far from perfect, being free from that generational memory changed our lives.

Poem #81, Feast

by Emily Gibson, Mar 22, 2022

Oat straw stubble,

Golden in a pre-spring evening sun,

Roots waiting for true spring

To let loose the green.

A red-tailed hawk,

Grounded,

Feasts on a caught

Softness.

About Feast: A scene from my bicycle ride in the late afternoon light of a hopeful first day of spring. The contrasts in how humans view other creatures is a frequent source of inspiration for me. We revere hawks, but cringe when we see a bloody bunny corpse that has fed one of those same hawks. Humanity's ability to distance itself from the web of life is, in my view, a big problem. How many children in the U.S. or Canada know that cows have to have a calf every year in order to make milk? I think our dietary habits, in this continent, would be vastly different if we still had to raise or hunt the meat we ate. I find beauty in nature, and the way everything depends on the sacrifice of other life. It makes life have greater value, to me.

Poem #82, Peloton Push

by Emily Gibson, Mar 23, 2022

Passed by a peloton

Point riders called out

“Wide load ahead!”

Their pacing furious

Cornering tight.

The narrow road,

The curve, 

And dynamics of force

Turn into a formation

Unyielding--

Seamless flock in flight

They are not.

Too close for 

My weighted 

Ride’s comfort.

Air fills with whirrs,

Pedals, wheels, and lungs.

No wobble room available!

Ahead, a pavement pothole.

Swerve into the fleet feet?

Perilous possibility.

Instead, steer right

Into pea gravel safety,

With prayer my load 

Remained upright.

Explicative shouted,

Not in exaltation

Of their speed.

About Peloton Push: Actual event, while out training this week with my fully loaded touring bicycle (tipping the scale at about 80 pounds!!) coming around a gentle corner on an uphill. I was fine, and fuming, standing in the gravel on the shoulder after they passed, already composing this poem! I wanted to play with the "P" letter and sound, as well as the "S" and short lines, like short pedal strokes, within this poem.

Poem #83, Hard to Miss

by Emily Gibson, Mar 24, 2022

Morning routine interrupted:

Yet another spider rescue,

Black shape, white wall,

Hard to miss.

Once captured and outside

Ready to release,

Curiosity begged a study.

Wait. Flash of red?

Exclamation point 

Like a spider spine.

Research assured me

Eyes didn’t lie.

Picture taken

Via underside of jar

For final proof:

Red hourglass? Yes.

Spider spun web

A mini home

Of jar and paper.

Red on black on white.

Sweet spider, 

Seeking a cave

Or corner. Time

To find her a home. 

Sagebrush field trip,

The  high desert outback.

A jumble of juniper

Solitude hideaway.

I found her a place

Away from human rush,

Perfect for a black widow.

Easy to miss.

About Hard to Miss: One of the great moments of this year so far, finding this spider. Felt like nature saying "Here's a little treat for you, keep up the good work!" I wish I could have spent more time with this black widow, but being in a jar isn't great for a living creature. I hope she is enjoying life in the outback more than our garage or where ever she had been holed up before venturing out onto the white wall of our living room. In this poem, I worked with a 4-line stanza, of short line lengths. I didn't count the syllables, though I may try that in a revision to see if it serves the poem well.

Poem #84, Night Light Reveal

by Emily Gibson, Mar 25, 2022

Herons and egrets perch in trees,

Tuck beaks in wings and dream

Of tomorrow’s frogs and fat pollywogs.

Airborne pond predators mostly sleep at night,

But after sunset? Prime time for aquatic hunters.

Tiptoe to a pond’s edge, flashlight in hand.

Beam its light and reveal carnivorous creatures,

Suspended mid-pond like fruit in jello.

Salamander larvae, amphibious lions,

Tiny frilled lizards with manes of gills.

They hang watching, with legs rounded

Around invisible flotation devices.

Dragonfly nymphs prowl like termites on steroids,

Aqueous gym rats practicing pushups in the mud.

They shuttle from one plant stalk to another,

Astronauts in zero gravity, in search of prey.

Both devour without hesitation,

Mimicking crocodiles and raptors, 

With bites of massive force.

In energy’s equal and opposite reaction,

With puffs of mud, claws seek purchase

In the weightless space of the pond.

About Night Light Reveal: Though I don't have a photo for this poem, I so remember the joy, each time, of eavesdropping on the pond at night. You could see all the way down to the bottom, unlike during the day when murkiness and algae kept the inner workings of the pond hidden. The theme of predators and prey is also here. I used a structure of four 4-line stanzas and a final stanza of 6 lines. In revision, I will look more at syllables to see if I can create more rhythm.

That's it for the 12th week of 2022! Thanks for reading/listening, and I hope you found something that inspired you.