Who said owls are wise? A reprise . . .

Myth is the public dream, and dream is the private myth. - Joseph Campbell

(Date of original post - 7/12/06)

Who Said Owls Are Wise?

Who said owls are wise?

Is it that birds of size

Are better at thinking?

Maybe they are shrinking

violets. In day to day life,

shy and adverse to strife.

Their hoots make us trust

They know more than us.

The owl is a magnificent bird,

with a call like few I've heard.

It is a hoot - or a "who, who?"

Was he calling me or really you?

Mister Owl, my friend; I think you'd be wise

To make sure we look into those big eyes.

We know we must have two big ears as well,

'Cause we're shouldn't miss the tale you'll tell.

What can we learn from you if you're smart?

What will you say that we can take to heart?

References:

• The Owl Pages is a site dedicated to world owl mythology.
• And there is a website that is called Owls Aren't Wise.
• This site (ReadingLady) has poems about owls.
  

Tags: wildlife poetry nature myth owls birds

Blogs: My news and political blog is at South by Southwest. My general purpose/southwest focus blog is at Southwest Progressive. And Carol Gee - Online Universe is the all-in-one home page for my websites.

Song of the Windmill, a reprise

Myth is the public dream, and dream is the private myth. - Joseph Campbell

(The date of the original post was 3/14/06)

Photo:souldestine-at-cox.net

Cool, water. Cool, clear water. Water. .

remember the song sung by "The Sons of the Pioneers" so long ago.

Not a cowboy poet, I, but one who loves them. I write the

Song of the Windmill.

Sing the song of the windmill's whirring in the breeze.

Listen to the cattle stirring as they chew and graze

on thin grass blades. The herd's not long for this place,

Cause the drought is driving ranchers to leave at a pace

that surprises everyone. The empty tank is commonplace.

"Maybe next year," the neighbors tell each other to save face.

AeroMotor is the name up there. There are other makers too.

A good windmill will outlast a house, barn, and an old buckaroo.

The bad years go by. Then the good years bring in a new crew to

Try again. More cows graze now as the pasture green and new

Makes rich milk, and grows fat calves who rest in the lean-to.

"Next year," the neighbors tell each other, "the drought is through."

Copyright by Carol Gee, March 14, 2006

Tags: ranching poetry rainfall

Blogs: My news and political blog is at South by Southwest. My general purpose/southwest focus blog is at Southwest Progressive. And Carol Gee - Online Universe is the all-in-one home page for my websites.

Announcing the reprise series --

I often write about the state where I was born and raised, or about memories of my childhood, or associated subjects.

For the next few days I will be reposting pieces from the past as a "reprise" series. I have labeled them my "classics."

I hope you enjoy them all.

Blogs: My news and political blog is at South by Southwest. My general purpose/southwest focus blog is at Southwest Progressive. And Carol Gee - Online Universe is the all-in-one home page for my websites.

Anniversary date -- June 10, 1934

My parents, J. and L. were married 75 years ago today in Wyoming. They are no longer with us, except in memory and spirit. Today's post is a celebration of what was "their day" for so many decades.

Honoring each of them at their memorials, we had poems written by their granddaughter, Diane. The verses follow:

May We Remember

By Diane, 2003

In honor of J., father and grandfather

As uplifting notes of a Meadowlark

drift on calm breezes in the prairie,

may we remember his smile and laughter

and recall the telling of a special story.

As magnificent mountains provide shelter

in forests surrounding meadows so peaceful,

may we remember his mighty hands

full of strength and yet so gentle.

As an eagle soars over majestic pines

gliding on the ever present wind above,

may we remember his deep and honest faith

and his heart so full of love.

***********************************************

Remembering Grandma

By Diane, 2008

In honor of L., mother and grandmother

A small seed planted in the soil,

emerges in the Spring as a beautiful flower.

Great things come in tiny packages,

bundled with strength and will power.

A needle and thread, guided by the right hands,

become a warm quilt made with love.

Great things come in tiny packages,

gifted from a Higher Power up above.

A ray of sunshine bringing joy to all,

inspires the beautiful voice of a songbird.

Great things come in tiny packages.

That's how Grandma will be remembered.

********** The end **********

Blogs: My news and political blog is at South by Southwest. My general purpose/southwest focus blog is at Southwest Progressive. And Carol Gee - Online Universe is the all-in-one home page for my websites.

Found in the files:

Since I have already confessed to being an incurable collector, you will understand when I publish this post. I found this when I was cleaning out my professional files, brought home when I retired. I assume someone gave it to me when I was managing a program for Retired Senior Volunteers. To quote:

THANK GOD I'M NOT SICK

Author Unknown

Thank God I'm not sick.

I have a wrinkled face and a sagging chin

and these brown spots all over my skin -

but thank God I'm not sick.

I can turn on the TV. . .

Push my recliner back . . .

and before the news is over

I've taken a nap.

Then when it's late and I'm ready for bed

I'm wide awake and wondering what was said.

I know where my brain is,

but that's not my mind,

and I question my memory from time to time.

I hunt for things, plus the keys to my car,

go in the next room and wonder what for

but thank God I'm not sick.

I can walk every morning, sleep all night,

drive my car, and dress up right,

make my bed, pay my bills, cook my food,

and clean up my spills.

I tire a little faster, rest a little slower. . .

but in spite of all this, I'm still a go-er,

and thank God I'm not sick.

I forget names, remember faces,

remember them and forget the places.

My hearing is dull, my hair is gray.

My eyes are dim, but what can I say?

I can write a letter, answer the phone.

Read my mail, and live alone.

It's a God-Given privilege to be alive,

So whatever the day brings, I'll survive.

And thank God I'm not sick.

I'm cooking less, my cooking's not good.

I chew a little longer when eating my food.

I make myself a list and check it twice. . .

write myself a note -- now take my advice. . .

when you look at the calendar to check a day,

make sure it's the right week to be OK.

Then laugh a lot and pray a little

and keep on plowing down the middle.

Than be thankful you're not sick.

My brand new blog is called "Behind the Links."

Carol Gee - Online Universe is the all-in-one home page for my websites.

Technorati tags: [tagname]

Risking this --

Haiku:

Japanese verse in three lines. Mood poem - doesn't use metaphors or similes.

Classic form: Line 1 - 5 syllables. Line 2 - 7 syllables. Line 3 - 5 syllables.

I am experimenting here:

**********

Present, but gone now

You remembered and then not

So I must know night

**********

Raspberry canes bend

over to bear the sweet fruit.

Red lips pucker up.

**********

My brand new blog is called "Behind the Links."

Carol Gee - Online Universe is the all-in-one home page for my websites.

Technorati tags: haiku poetry creative

Landing On the Hudson

Landing On the Hudson

The birds had ended the engines' song.
The plane's still flying but not for long.
Not land, but liquid. This place that beckoned,
All cold and swift.

The only lane left, and it's not right.
The path means a turn-around tight.
Here we go. "Brace for impact," Sully said.
Oh no. Cold and swift.

Heads down the riders gave no cry.
Perfect was the line down from the sky.
Thin tail in. Fat nose out. Hold it, hold it.
Blam! Cold and swift.

Are we there yet? Oh, yes, we are.
Heads up. Look around. Landed, 5-star.
Wheels up, the winged boat floated
Downstream, cold and swift.

Window-doors loosed. Out, out. Get out!
Women and children first, came the shout.
All headed forward after trying aft.
Outside. Currents cold and swift.

Wet wings floated just long enough. Not wide.
Slides turned to boats. Sit or stand side by side.
Twice Sully patrolled the bird. Quickly all out.
Water rose inside, cold and swift.

Boats everywhere. Angels gathering souls.
All hands safe. First responders consoled.
It was the Miracle on the Hudson,
So cold and swift. Impossible.

They all said ditching could not be done.
All points in place. White head, plan begun.
Steady hands, he'd trained all his life for this.
Calculations were cold and swift.

It all came together, landing on the city river.
And it worked. Riders in blankets all a-shiver.
Amazing. Grace. It was a song
On the Hudson, cold and swift.


Copyright by Carol Gee
January 23, 2009


Update -- ** Hero's welcome for Hudson pilot **

BBC News (1/25/09): "The pilot who safely landed a jet in New York's Hudson River gets a hero's welcome in his home town in California."

Life goes on.

Life Goes On

Life goes on because hearts still beat
And forces beyond ken are incomplete.
Life goes on when another's life ends.
We can't stop forces we don't comprehend.

We say, "life goes on," and leave unsaid,
"How? I don't know how. It hurts my head."
We know life goes on because we live.
The one who left we must somehow forgive.

Life goes on but never forever.
The truth existential - we're not clever
Enough to avoid the abyss owned by all.
We discover "Life's Meaning" for the shortfall.

We lose ones we love if we live long enough.
We miss them. Finding good days is so tough.
Life goes on however, because that is The Plan.
Moving on is hard, but we all have a Wing Man.


Copyright by Carol Gee
January 12, 2009


My topical post today at South by Southwest and The Reaction is about politics.
Technorati tags: poetry loss writing existential

A Writing on Right's Might

The Might of Right -- The Rule of Law as opposed to Injustice.
Right as opposed to Wrong.
Wronged as opposed to Righteous.
Righteous as opposed to Immoral.
Moral as opposed to Political.
Political as opposed to Right.
Right as opposed to Left.
Left wing as opposed to Right wing.
Rights upheld as opposed to Injustice.

The Might of Write -- Freedom of Speech as opposed to No Rule of Law.
Write as opposed to Speak.
Speak as opposed to Right.
Write as opposed to Phone.
Phone as opposed to Letter.
Write as opposed to Print.
Print as opposed to Digital.
Write as opposed to Talk.
Talk as opposed to Shout.

The Might of Rite -- The Rule of Law as opposed to Lawlessness.
Rite as opposed to Consent.
Consent as opposed to Rebellious.
Rite as opposed to Chaos.
Chaos as opposed to Organized.
Rite as opposed to Informal.
Informal as opposed to Formal.
Rite as opposed to Secular.
Secular as opposed to Righteous.


My topical post today at South by Southwest and The Reaction is about politics.

Technorati tags: news politics poetry writing law government

From the bulletin board --

Now that you know that I am a collector you can understand that I collect sayings, mottos, quips, slogans, quotes, etc. Not only do I collect them, but my niece sends me collections of them. Here are a few "Gems" from her today's missile:

Sometimes, when I look at my children,
I say to myself,'Barbara, you should have remained a virgin.
-- Barbara Bush (mother of G.W.)

Santa Claus had the right idea.
Visit people only once a year.
-- Victor Borge

We could certainly slow
the aging process down
if it had to work its way through Congress.
-- Will Rogers

Before I retired I had these tacked up on the board in my counseling office:

"HE WHO HAS A WHY TO LIVE CAN BEAR WITH ALMOST ANY HOW."

"It is the Communicator's Responsibility To be Understood."

Mary Ellen Huhn of Nokomis, Florida, submitted this to a news letter to which I subscribe, a long time ago. I know it was years ago because the paper is yellow. I hope Mary Ellen is still around to give and get hugs. To quote,

It's wondrous what a hug can do,
A hug can cheer you when you're blue.

A hug can say,"I love you so"
Or, "Gee, I hate to see you go."

A hug is "Welcome back again!"
And "Great to see you, where've you been?"

A hug can soothe a child's pain
And bring a rainbow after rain.

The hug! There's just no doubt about it,
We scarsely could survive without it.

A hug delights and warms and charms,
It must be why God gaves us arms.
are not above them.

Hugs are great for fathers and for mothers,
Sweet for sisters, swell for brothers.

Amd chances are some favorite aunts
Love them more than potted plants.

Kittens crave them. Puppies love them.
Heads of state are not above them.

A hug can break the language barrier
And make your travels so much merrier.

No need to fret about the store of 'em,
The more you give, the more there are of' 'em.

So stretch those arms without delay
And give someone a hug today.


Here's mine to you.

'My topical post today at South by Southwest and The Reaction is about politics.

Technorati tags: thoughts poetry

Confessions of a curator

A few weeks ago I posted a piece called "Exploring Curators." It began with a definition and included some new information about Making Good Mondays:

Curators preserve things of value. These things include information, works of art, historical architecture, rare books, and, now, even digital data.

. . . Today I have been acting as the curator of my own body of work online at what I called my "creative blog," Southwest Blogger, hosted by Bloglegion. For whatever reason, a few months ago I started cross-posting all the posts I had done there to this site, "Making Good Mondays." I actually was afraid that something would happen to the material, and I would have no record of it. And I feel lucky now because I could still get to the originals, though the blog itself is currently unavailable to me. I copied several posts today that were worth preserving. Here is a sample what I saved through cross-posting today. . .

Today I confess that I have been at it again. I have this need to carefully preserve what I have created, I confess. Here is another sample of some of my favorite pieces, written during a time (late 2005 - early 2006) when I felt really creative:

• Bloggers share their dreams -- This is about dream interpretation combined with imagery.
• See Space and Savor the Images -- Links to beautiful sites for Space imagery that I have enjoyed.
• Clouded Thinking -- "Seeing Into the Future" is one of my poems.
• Capturing Stardust -- This is a short essay on the magic of space travel.
• Living at Sea Otter Slough -- This piece combines creative imagery with a poem that is among my favorites that I have written.
• Water Theme - Messes With Your Head -- Here I combine a mysterious optical illusion with dream interpretation ideas you can use.
• City Kid -- An autobio piece, about why I moved from the country to the city, is a bit personal.
• Nest Eggs -- This combines a beautiful visual with a short poem I call "Why Save?"
• Dry Country -- This is a short comparison-and-contrast of living with drought in the city or the country.
• Authenticity matters -- This is a short essay exploring the value of living an authentic life.
• Carelessness -- This is a short admittedly, edgy poem I call "Little Things Matter."
• The end of an era -- This is a short personal piece about what telegrams have meant to to me.

The curator in me has been on a cleaning, clearing, documenting, preserving binge around the house, I admit, that is a bit too compulsive. This post is just another symptom. But I am enjoying myself immensely.

My topical post today at South by Southwest and The Reaction is about politics.
Technorati tags: collecting writing creativity diary thoughts blogging

Boring space

When the space is boring

When a space is boring its occupants want to leave.
When a space is interesting folks there shun reprieve.
People resist a Plain Jane place I really do believe.
Places and spaces create moods we strive to weave.

There nothing so daunting as plain white page unforgiving,
Not so much bored but as if aware of the author's misgivings.
People resist setting pen to parchment, fearing thought giving
To pages, new spaces upon which groups of letters are living.

Boring spaces sometimes come to live in the talk between two.
Awkward pauses move there and silence is bound to accrue.
Awaiting the right words, one or other is unable to pursue
The connection. None comes when the speaker hasn't a clue.

The space in a rainy day can turn deadly dull boring.
If one's time is misspent, resented, a true out-pouring
of self-pity. And these bored ones live on ignoring
God's blessings. Get up and out. Live life rip-roaring!


My topical post today at South by Southwest and The Reaction is about politics.

Technorati tags: poetry space writing communication thoughts

References on Spirituality

Today's post is a reading list of books in my library on the general subject of spirituality, mental peace, stress management, and questions related to existential philosophy. Enjoy!

"A Return To Love: Reflections On the Principles Of a Course In Miracles" By Marianne Williamson. Harper Collins, 1992

"A World Waiting To Be Born: Civility Rediscovered" by M. Scott Peck. Simon and Schuster, 1993

"Chicken Soup For the Unsinkable Soul" by Canfield, Hansen and McNamara. Health Communications, 1999

"Compassion in Action: Setting Out On the Path of Service" by Ram Dass and Mirabai Bush. Bell Tower Pub., 1992

"Creative Visualization" by Shakti Gawain. MIF Books, 1978

"Finding Values That Work: The Search For Fulfillment" by Brian O'Connell. Walker & Co., 1978

"Fire in the Soul" by Joan Borysenko. Warner Books, 1993

"Further Along the Road Less Traveled" by M. Scott Peck. Simon and Schuster, 1993

"Guilt is the Teacher, Love is the Lesson" by Joan Borysenko. Warner Books, 1990

"Inner Simplicity: 100 Ways To Regain Peace and Nourish the Soul" by Elaine St. James. Hyperion, 1995

"Insearch:Psychology and Religion" by James Hillman. Spring Pub. 1994

"Man's Search for Himself" by Rollo May. Signet Books, 1953

"Mythologies" by William Butler Yeats. Macmillan, 1959

"Myths, Dreams and Religion" by Joseph Campbell. Spring Pub. 1988

"Passion for Life: Psychology and the Human Spirit" by John and Muriel James. Penguin Books, 1991

"Peace Is Every Step" by Thich Nhat Hahn. Bantam Books , 1991

"The Heroine's Journey" by Mureen Murdock. Random House, 1990

"The Hope For Healing Human Evil" by M. Scott Peck. Simon and Schuster, 1983

"The House of Belonging" poems by David Whyte. Many Rivers Press, 2004

"The Road Less Traveled: A New Psychology of Love, Traditional Values and Spiritual Growth" by M.Scott Peck. Simon and Schuster, 1978

"The Soul's Code: In Search of Character and Calling" by James Hillman. Random House, 1996

"The World Treasury of Modern Religious Thought" by Jaroslav Pelikan. Little, Brown & Co., 1990

"Unconditional Life" by Deepak Chopra. Bantam Books, 1992

"Wherever You Go There You Are: Mindfulness Meditation" by Jon Kabat-Zinn. Hyperion, 1994

"Zen Keys: A Guide to Zen Practice" by Thich Nhat Hahn. Doubleday Dell Pub. 1974


Note: This list is displayed permanently in the left column of Making Good Mondays.


My topical post today at South by Southwest and The Reaction is about Russia.
Technorati tags: bibliography spirituality religion existential books self-help

A Step-Story

Bevvy of beverages --

"What would you like to drink?" I said.
My guest looked down and shook his head.
So, not knowing the next best thing, I led
The way to the party table, a big spread.

"What would you like to eat?" I asked.
My guest looked up and then on past
Me to our friends, who had been tasked
to co-host this heck of a lavish repast.

"What would we do without our friends?"
Our guest asked it as if at loose ends.
My guest remained unable to transcend
Without the right words, on a downtrend.

"What I would give for a drink right now."
He looked down, not knowing at all how
To tell us, "I'm an alcoholic. I'll just bow
Out now, as I can't throw in the towel."

"What I would do to have my words back."
I looked all around for a different tack,
A better way to say I had been offtrack.
"Thanks so much for giving us feedback."

"What I will do is find a meeting," he said.
"My sponsor will know just how to head
Me on the right path; I'll go there instead."
Our guest left abruptly. He almost fled.

"What would I like to drink?" I thought.
Then I thought again. Our guest taught
Me in a moment what sobriety's about.
Feel the feelings, don't get overwrought.

My topical post today at South by Southwest and The Reaction is about blogging.

Technorati tags: 12-step recovery sobriety poetry entertaining

Neglect has consequences

Today's post is one of my periodic poems coming to the surface. It is about

Neglect
Neglect is an old acquaintance of mine.
I don't intend to ignore. It is not by design.
It just happens. None of us wants to undermine
a productive and satisfying life, carefully aligned.

Neglect is an old habit that has big bottom-line
Consequences for me. I don't mean to whine.
It just happens. I complain as if it's my byline.
Habituated, my life's time measure gets sidelined.

Neglect is an old friend, if truth be clearly defined.
I use it expecting the "good fairy" will come to shine
On my enterprise. It just happens. Completion declined,
My project, neglected again by my good fairy, lies supine.

Neglect is an old way of avoiding the task disinclined
By my lazy self. The job's too big, gigantic its outline.
That just happens to be inaccurate, however. Defined
By neglect, the job grew by its distortion of deadlines.

Neglect is an old form of not having enough spine.
Courage is facing the hard thing. I shouldn't resign.
It just happens. Nothing is ever as hard as in my mind.
Stepping up to the task, just starting can be my baseline.

Copyright by Carol Gee
February 24, 2008

Cross-posted at Southwest Blogger
My topical post today at South by Southwest and The Reaction is about politics.
Technorati tags: poetry thoughts personal

Happy New Year to You, Dear Earth

I want to wish you . . .
A Happy New Year, dear Earth.
You deserve better than a penny's worth
Of righteous effort from us.

I want to wish you. . .
A better bunch of friends in high places.
You deserve a set of brand new faces
Honoring their Bully Pulpits.

I want to wish you. . .
A decent shot at normal temp trends.
You deserve relief from over extended
Fossil fuel fires of waste.

I want to wish you . . .
A Chilly Winter at both your poles.
You deserve fewer gaping holes
In those precious ozone layers.

I want to wish you. . .
A Happy New Year, dear Earth.
You deserve at least a rebirth
Of higher rescue aspirations.

Copyright by Carol Gee
December 29, 2007


Cross-posted at Southwest Blogger

My topical post today at South by Southwest and The Reaction is about the environment.

Technorati tags: environment climate changepoetry

The rhyme that wrote itself

The rhyme that wrote itself

"They Called Her the Lady" was its name.
Full blown in my sorrow new thoughts came.
My first poem. Its writing helps to proclaim
The rage we now feel.

"She was the lady," a scared witness proclaimed.
"They called her the lady" was the new frame
To contain all the words that now inflame
My new poet's feelings.

The courtroom was stuffy and filled end to end.
We're at the trial, feeling we have to attend.
Their kin and buddies, and her very dear friends
Who still feel it's so very unreal.

This lady, this woman, this friend of ours,
Was senselessly murdered. It was after-hours.
For her purse alone, the coward over-powered
Her as she sat at the wheel.

How could Linda's life -- her name I reclaim --
Have been taken by the small bullet that maimed?
Royalty she was not, nor was her good heart's fame
Widespread. Our mentor, she was ideal.

The rhyme that wrote itself, the healing flame,
Seared over my sorrow. After years I've reclaimed
My peace with it. After death it is never the same;
Know the poet's pen can help to heal.

Copyright by Carol Gee, November 28, 2007

Cross-posted at Southwest Blogger

My topical post today is at South by Southwest and The Reaction .
Technorati tags: poetry creative writing

The bridge is too far

A Bridge Too Far

I want to reach out my hand in peace to you.
But first what I really want is evidence, proof
Of your intentions.

The reach is so far. Neither of us has a clue.
The first to extend a hand is at risk, spoofed
Would make dissension.

The bridge span is far; I don't know the how-to.
The first should be you so don't be aloof.
I've measured dimensions.

I want to trust my reach but, afraid you'd outdo,
I first need to know there's no way I can goof.
I have all this tension.

To cross this bridge might mean a new view.
I'll first have to let go old beliefs, off a roof
Without suspension.

Now trust me when I tell you what is true.
You first. From there to here is foolproof.
Thanks -- Don't mention it.

Copyright by
Carol Gee
November 5, 2001

Cross-posted at Southwest Blogger
My topical post today at South by Southwest and The Reaction contrasts wars and space exploration.
Technorati tags: poetry peace writing human realtions

A Man's Best Friend

Myth is the public dream, and dream is the private myth. - Joseph Campbell

A Man's Best Friend

What's a guy to do when his best friend dies?
How's he supposed to feel with those closed eyes?
For fifty years, he's always been there.

What's a guy to do when his best friend's gone?
How's he going to feel when he's a bit alone?
Others will be there. Just don't know where.

What's a old girl to do to comfort her old guy?
How's she supposed to deal with the little sighs?
Well, you just be there. That's how we care.

Technorati tags: poetry loss friendship
My topical post today at South by Southwest and The Reaction is about blog writing.
Cross-posted at Southwest Blogger

Hot Nights

Myth is the public dream, and dream is the private myth. - Joseph Campbell

Hot Nights

Warm nights keep us up - we enjoy the balmy air.
Hot nights keep up up - we are never prepared
to sweat while sleeping. Before we never cared.
That's when the power was on. Then we fared
Better while sleeping. Before the war, unaware,
Warm nights were quite OK. And hot nights, fair.

Hot nights keep us up - we must retreat to roofs
To sleep. We are not prepared, not bulletproof.
We'd sweat out life up there - we might go poof.
When the power is on our sleeptime's foolproof.
Now's the war. Some souls sleep eternally, aloof
to hot, warm, or cool, unaware and weatherproof.

copyright 2007 by Carol Gee
Cross-posted at Southwest Blogger.
My topical post today at South by Southwest and The Reaction is about the color of advocacy.
Technorati tags: current events in the news iraq politics writing and poetry war