National Poetry Month #16: Woman Who Loves Gardening

Days like today get me in the mood for digging in the dirt. Bulbs are coming up, the weather is warming, we are bathed in green. At a writing workshop a few years ago I was inspired to pen this poem. Picture above is at the Portland Rose Garden, June 2013.

Woman Who Loves Gardening

I have dirty nails

and rarely paint them, living out

my long growing season in the flower garden, trellises

giving view to clematis, climbing Peace

where aromatic flowers

grow in profusion.

I pull the weeds

in the early morning

gritting my teeth

wiping sweat from my brow

and listening

to footsteps of my husband

coming in range to help.

Sun makes my face red;

each sniff with my nose

leaves lily pollen behind.

When I rest it’s the beauty

that causes anxiety to shake loose

from a woman in need

of a quiet place to retreat.

Christy Woolum

June 20,2007

National Poetry Month #15: From Triumph to Grief

When a student overcomes obstacles we celebrate! We cheered J.S. on as she was escorted to graduation last spring by her beautiful child.  Today we cried for her. Today our school was filled with sadness. Yesterday she lost that beautiful child in a tragic car accident.  We pray for strength for her family, our school family, and especially for  J.S. 

"Though her smile is gone forever

And her hand we cannot touch

Still we had so many memories,

Of the one we loved so much,

Her memory is our keepsake,

With which we’ll never part;

God has her in His keeping,

We have her in our heart."
Anon.

National Poetry Month #14 : Caroline Kennedy and Joy Harjo

During National Poetry Month I like to give shout-outs to poetry anthologies I enjoy and recommend. Caroline Kennedy's most recent anthology is entitled "She Walks in Beauty, A Woman's Journey Through Poems." I love the selections that honor the life of women. As we celebrate Earth Day this poem by Joy Harjo was a perfect selection for today. I wish i had a spectacular eagle photo to accompany it.

Eagle Poem

BY JOY HARJO

To pray you open your whole self

To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon

To one whole voice that is you.

And know there is more

That you can’t see, can’t hear;

Can’t know except in moments

Steadily growing, and in languages

That aren’t always sound but other

Circles of motion.

Like eagle that Sunday morning

Over Salt River. Circled in blue sky

In wind, swept our hearts clean

With sacred wings.

We see you, see ourselves and know

That we must take the utmost care

And kindness in all things.

Breathe in, knowing we are made of

All this, and breathe, knowing

We are truly blessed because we

Were born, and die soon within a

True circle of motion,

Like eagle rounding out the morning

Inside us.

We pray that it will be done

In beauty.

In beauty.

National Poetry Month #13: Mary Oliver at her Best

It is hard to single out favorite poems by poets you admire. There are so many poems, so many messages. Often the meaning of the poem hits me at a time that I can relate to a strong message.  That is the case today. Enjoy one my favorites by Mary Oliver. Once we understand our natural timeline in life, we move on.

“The Journey,” by Mary Oliver, from Dreamwork (Atlantic Monthly Press).

The Journey One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice—
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.

National Poetry Month #12: Easter Hymn

memorial on Bow highway, Skagit Valley



There are so many hymns that speak to my heart at Easter. This is a favorite.

I Know that My Redeemer Lives
By: Samuel Medley
I know that my Redeemer lives!
What comfort this sweet sentence gives!
He lives, he lives, who once was dead;
He lives, my ever living head!
He lives triumphant from the grave;
He lives eternally to save;
He lives exalted, throned above;
He lives to rule his Church in love.
He lives to grant me rich supply;
He lives to guide me with his eye;
He lives to comfort me when faint;
He lives to hear my soul’s complaint.
He lives to silence all my fears;
He lives to wipe away my tears;
He lives to calm my troubled heart;
He lives all blessings to impart.
He lives to bless me with his love;
He lives to plead for me above;
He lives my hungry soul to feed;
He lives to help in time of need.
He lives, my kind, wise, heavenly friend;
He lives and loves me to the end;
He lives, and while he lives, I’ll sing;
He lives, my Prophet, Priest, and King!
He lives and grants me daily breath;
He lives, and I shall conquer death;
He lives my mansion to prepare;
He lives to bring me safely there.
He lives, all glory to his name!
He lives, my savior, still the same;
What joy this blest assurance gives:
I know that my Redeemer lives!

National Poetry Month #11: Photographer

 This is dedicated to my brother Bill Woolum, my favorite photographer.

Photographer

Light has limits. What he can't see

He believes in. He tacks up background.

Shadows explode from a flash.

Winter trees, victims.

Noon comes to find him

At home in the color blue

Whistling in a minor key.

In his dark room, he seeks clarity-

Turns to acid

In unmarked bottles.

Light in the abstract bores him.

His shapes labor against light,

Make gestures in space like mimes.

At midnight he puzzles what presence eludes him.

The space between trees,

The moon's other side,

Eclipse spins from his thumb.

Sunrise. Sunset.

He can never get it right.

- Carol Muske

Black and white photos by brother Bill. I am responsible for the pictures of Bill taking pictures.