Favorite Things

anyone lived in a pretty how town

I was thinking it might be nice to share some of my favorite things - maybe I'll try to occasionally come back to something that I think is worth sharing. Tonight it's my favorite poem:

A Pretty How Town
by E.E. Cummings

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did.

Women and men (both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed (but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)
they said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
with by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men (both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain

Hold Thou My Hand

At my great-grandmother's funeral this week, my sister sang one of Ahda's old favorite hymns. It was one I wasn't familiar with, but I found the words to it and thought I'd post them here.

Hold Thou my hand; so weak I am, and helpless,
I dare not take one step wtihout Thy aid;
Hold Thou my hand; for then, O loving Savior,
No dread of ill shall make my soul afraid.

Hold Thou my hand, and closer, closer draw me
To Thy deal self - my hope, my joy, my all;
Hold Thou my hand, lest haply I should wander,
And, missing Thee, my trembling feet should fall.

Hold Thou my hand; the way is dark before me
Without the sunlight of Thy face divine;
But when by faith I catch its radiant glory,
What heights of joy, what rapturous songs are mine!

Hold Thou my hand, that when I reach the margin
Of that lone river Thou didst cross for me,
A heavenly light may flash along its waters,
And every wave like crystal bright shall be.

The hymn was written by Fanny Crosby. Blind from 6 weeks old, Fanny wrote over 8,000 hymns in her lifetime, including many familiar ones, but her personal favorite was "Blessed Assurance." It is interesting to go back and read this hymn she wrote (Hold Thou my Hand) realizing that she was blind.

I think that the version of this song that Gini sang was a bit different, because I remember some words from the one Gini sang that I didn't find in this hymn text, but I'm pretty sure they are related works. If not, oh well, it's a beautiful old hymn anyway.

For my part, I am only hoping that I do not have to attend any more funerals for a good while. Although it was not hard to see Ahda leave this world at 103, I am rather content to have the rest of my family remain here on earth for a good while longer.

An Elegy for Uncle Jimmy

The Throne Room

Meredith L. Peel

I traveled to the Throne of God
bearing a burden of fiercest love,
and having loved and lost, I asked:
“What, my God, do you desire?”

Coupled with a fiery breath,
swift and loud came the reply:
“RIGHTEOUSNESS,” my God said.
My face burned; my heart fell.

Before a judge holy as He,
none could stand to plead his case.
Turning homeward, burden heavy,
His voice followed: “Ask again.”

Again to the Throne I turned,
with heavy heart, and trembling voice.
But once again I made my plea:
“What, my King, do you desire?”

“Faithfulness” - a gentler breath -
yet strong enough to carry off
those faithful ones I’d stowed away
within my burden of fierce love.

Once more I turned toward my home,
a lighter burden on my back.
To my surprise, pursuing me,
He called, “Ask once again, My child.”

And turning to the Throne I asked:
“What, my Lord, do you desire?”
A gentle whisper, His reply:
“Reconciliation.”

And at this word all who remained
in the great burden of my love
compelled me forward to His throne
to be released upon His feet.

And when at last I turned to go,
beneath my feet I saw a fire.
I cried out, fearing, for those souls
I had entrusted to His care.

Before my question, His reply:
“I desire that ALL of Mine
be reconciled, and be refined.
For holiness awaits all who
withstand My holy fire.”

My heart now still, His message clear,
my burden now at home with Him,
I wept with joy and sang my thanks,
ready now to be refined.

And passing over that great fire,
His spirit spoke these words to me:
“The heat is great,
My love still greater,”
and heart at peace, I returned home.

Dang! It Feels Good to be a Poet!

It feels good to be writing again. I've been into E.E. Cummings lately, and I think it shows. That and my post-modernist training, which I'm still coming to grips with. I love structure and syntax and twists and turns and strange words with double entendres and everything about language. Just love it. Believe it or not, this is a love poem. That's as much as I'll give away. I'd love to see commentary on it - of any sort - good, bad, or ugly. I'm interested in a, whether or not anyone's reading this other than my sister; and b, what you think...

(Non) SENSE

The smell of wanton sulfer -
his careless gentility -
an odor of undoing
and taste of starlit apple

he has a touch so malignantly
sagacious
(both alarming and familiar)

and still -
on the (almost
imperceivable) pauses
between comingandgoing

sober intoxication - and
inopportunity -
share between petals,
the thorns

Dickonsonian Day

For years I have had a picture on the wall in my bedroom. The frame is cheap and the picture is of a teddy bear. On it is my favorite poem of all time, Emily Dickonson's "I Shall Not Live in Vain."
If I can stop one heart from breaking
I shall not live in vain
If I can ease one life the aching
or cool one pain
Or help one fainting robin
Until his nest again
I shall not live in vain.
I know I don't have any punctuation right, but you get the gist.
Well, yesterday I got to have a Dickinsonian Day. I helped a little guy named Gabe. Gabe is a pit bull that some folks found a few months ago living on his own in the B'ham area. He has suffered a lot, judging by his excessive scarring and gunshot shards and bb's still lodged and seen on x-rays. And despite all of that, he is a doll. Anyone who has spent even a few minutes with him has fallen in love. This morning Gabe is in surgery. He is have a face lift, hopefully to put his lip back where it belongs so that he won't look like he's snarling because Gabe doesn't snarl.
I'll update with some new pics of Gabe later this week when I get a chance to go and see him in recovery.
If you're reading this for some reason and you want to help Gabe, go to www.turtlemoonrescue.org and you can donate to help cover his boarding and surgery costs...