Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Sunday, January 6, 2008

Storm Coming


I live in the mountains above the demarcation set by weathermen where rain becomes snow. And at this time of year I become very interested in what the weathermen are saying about my future. And very aware of what is going on in California. I spent yesterday getting prepared for the storm moving my direction.

On this eve of Epiphany

My focus should be on lofty goals
The year ahead
Not just tomorrow
And this huge storm heading my way
Wood inside to stoke the fire
Water horded for later use
Should the power lines
Go down in the gale force winds

A couple states away
On hundred thousand without lights
Heat
And water to drink
Rain pouring down
Snow piling up
The threat moves as a green blob on the radar
Across the Arizona border and toward my house
Stew made
Dishes washed
Lamp oil located
Matches placed carefully to be found in the dark

On this eve of Epiphany
I lay me down to sleep
Flashlight at the ready
Fire banked for the night
Will they be right
These wizards of the winds
Will dawn reveal feet of snow
Or the remains of a starry night

Will it pass me by
Spend all its fury on the White Mountains
Between me and it
It is on its way
I am ready
I think

(c)J. Binford-Bell 1/05/2008

This morning the ground was merely wet. Not buried under more snow. But there are no stars and the wind still blows what appears in the pre-dawn gloom to be snow. It is just slower than they said. But the good news is the power is still on and there is a hot bath in my future.

Sunday, December 30, 2007

Winter's Discontent


Enough already

Another!
Cold and windy day
Unpleasant in the extreme
Even if the sun is shining
But bringing no
Warmth
Upon the cold
Snow clad earth

I sat
Morosely at my window
Watching the drifts of snow
Grow
Clouds of white ice
Crystals
Slithering over the banks
Chilling the day
Robbing
The joy

Go Away
Awful weather
Let winter abate a day or two or three
But no
Says the weatherman
Tomorrow
More of the same

(c) Jacqui Binford-Bell


Friday, November 30, 2007

All the Paintings


All the Paintings
Once inside my head
Prettily conceived
Executed
And refined
Posed around
The studio with care

All the unfinished paintings
Final touches added
Signatures affixed
Photos taken
Frames assigned
Names given
Prices determined

All the paintings
Adorning the walls
Which to take
Which am I too attached to
Not that sure I want to show

All the boxes stacked up
Awaiting my choices
The colorful array
So soon hidden away
Leaving
Bare walls
And empty hooks
Attesting
To all the pretty paintings
Once there.

(c) Jacqui Binford-Bell 2007

The above painting in In Memorial and depicts the New Mexico Vietnam Memorial looking over the Moreno Valley. It is just one of the many paintings I will be displaying at a local fair this weekend. All in hopes that few return home with me to go back on those bare walls.

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Let there be light



The Light

Where it was once
Dark
It is now
Light
I can by simply throwing
a switch
Illuminate the night

How wonderful it would be
If
With just one
Word
We could chase darkness
From the soul
Bring hope
To the hopeless
A solution
to our woes

Fill the dark
with stars

(c) Jacqui Binford-Bell 11/2007

Progress continues, though somewhat slowly, on the studio. The exterior, except for the future deck, is done. Now I am ready to work on finishing the interior when I am closed in because of the weather.

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Poem without title

Awoke last night with the words for this poem running though my head. Had to turn on the lamp and write it down.

I
Think
Therefore
I am or am I
What I think I am

Are
We now
Just our thoughts
Running idly here and there
Busy being something we are not

Or
Are We
Of more substance
Made of flesh and bones
Which when we cease to be thought of
Is left to rot in some soon to be forgotten grave
The
End

Jacqui Binford-Bell on All Souls Day


Saturday, October 20, 2007

Passing the Ball

Mind all a flutter I sprawled on the couch with a cat and a dog and my knitting. I am rapidly approaching realization of a year long project (abandoned over the summer).

I no longer knit exactly per pattern but start with one (this a sort of sweater/poncho) and modify. I am adding all these wonderful designer yarns as accents to the basic mohair. The basic skills are ones taught to me by my mother. The enhancements are. The marriage of the two is highly satisfying and very meditative.

Before I completed four rows of 184 stitches each I had this poem to write down. And a memory to add to those recalled and treasured a new. It is interesting as we age what we have stored away to be recalled in the quiet of an evening alone.


Passing the Ball

Balls of knitting wool
Needles, hooks
Twined into textures
Intricate
Mysterious
Warm

Mother taught me to knit
Crochet, sew, embroider
Sat beside me
Upon the couch
Retrieved my dropped stitches
Corrected
My patterns
With Warmth

Arts shared
Skills taught
Treasures created
Handed down
From Mother to daughter
Intricate patterns
Of Life

I sit now
On the couch
Alone
Knitting memories
To keep me warm
A sweater
To show
I learned

See what
My mother taught me
To do
I knit, Crochet
Cross stitch, crewel
And Sew

Intricate
Patterns
Of lives
Entwined
Knitted together
keeping me warm

October 2007