Tag: Poetry

Poetry is for Sharing

This is me and a grandchild who also enjoys and writes some poetry … and who contributed art to three of my poetry books.

Poetry is for sharing. It brings people together in community to sing, listen, illustrate, recite together. Poetry that comes from the heart also touches hearts. Poetry reminds us of our common humanity. Scripture Psalms are poetry. Song lyrics and hymns are poetry. Nursery rhymes gave us some of our first experiences of rhyme and meter. As our society becomes more mechanized and tech-centered, a hunger and appreciation for poetry is growing. Really, I can’t imagine the human experience without poetry.

I started writing poems in fifth grade. Proud of my first real poem (It was about Jesus as my friend) I showed it to my Sunday School teacher. She said, “You should send this to the Junior Joys!” My parents, though, cautioned me, “Don’t get your hopes up. They receive lots of submissions.”

Well, I took courage and sent my poem to the publication’s masthead address. Then waited. About six months later, it appeared in print! To think that Sunday School kids and their parents across the country were reading verses of my words and feelings. Those verses  expressed something others could relate to—and maybe be encouraged by. Perhaps my little poem helped them put words to their own experience, or the experience they wanted to have.

As I grew up, composing poems in my journals to express childhood wonder—or teenage angst—was mostly private outlet. But the verses stepped out of my personal reveries and the locked pages of my diary when I contributed a piece to my high school poetry journal. Then a teacher asked me to read another of my poems to the class. And later, my college creative writing teacher read a poem of mine to her class.

In those situations I realized how the rhythm and rhyme, the sound and sense of a poem can connect writer, reader, and hearers in a shared experience, shape a shared vision.

As a young adult, when a friend moved away, I was asked to write a poem and read it at her going-away party. Later, for my sister’s birthday party, I composed and read a poem.

When I had a family of my own, our Thanksgiving tradition became one where each family member brought something creative to the dinner table to share: a Thanksgiving or Fall themed poem, a scripture or psalm, a picture colored for the occasion.

Through the years I got busy with church work, music ministry, freelance writing, and family. But poetry was a gift that stayed in the background and came to the fore to help me express my emotions during times of loss and grief, as well as times of wonder and joy. I sometimes shared them with friends. Then I began submitting poems to publications. Here’s an example of one that was published:

There came a time when it dawned on me I had a pile of poems produced in all stages of my life (up to then). I had published a novel and more than one nonfiction book of my own—and numerous book for other authors. Why not publish a collection of my poetry? I arranged the poems in reverse chronological order, from the most recent all the way back to that 5th grade poem from Junior Joys. So many memories!—some easier than others to recall. I titled it Remembering Softly: A Life In Poems. It included colorful art by two creative young granddaughters.

Book Cover: Remembering Softly: A Life In Poems

The book garnered positive reviews. And it fostered togetherness. For instance:

  • One niece told me she was reading the poems to her boyfriend.
  • My father, who was about 90 at the time and experiencing dementia, kept the book on his chair-side table to pick up and read now and then. He was convinced that the picture on the cover was me! I couldn’t change his mind on that, but I decided that was okay if it helped him feel closer to me (since I lived hundreds of miles away).

When you’re a poet and/or a lover of poetry, you talk with friends about poetry. Here’s a pic from a video of me chatting with a friend about her poetry:

When I’ve had opportunity, I have taught others about poetry, to help them appreciate its depths and treasures, and to help those who want to communicate through poetry to learn poetic techniques. This happened mostly at writers conferences.

Poetry readings also bring people together around the sharing of poetry. At this local literary event, I read from Remembering Softly to an audience of all ages. It was a new experience for me to not personally know a single person in the audience:

You just never know where and to whom your poetry will go. Here is a friend and loyal fan, Jim. He lives in Texas where his local B&N store held open mike nights. He took my second published book of poetry, Glimpsing Glory, and read from it to the assembled bookstore cafe crowd!

Glimpsing Glory came out at the same time as the Covid pandemic. One reader, a businessman, frustrated with lockdown and online meetings, shared this poem with a Zoom group:

Screen time in spring is deadening,
though perhaps necessary.
But more needed is the feel
of mountain breezes in your lungs,
a rocky trail under your feet,
the velvet of unfurling leaves
sweet scents of new-mown grass
and just-turned earth,
the taste of first strawberries.

Book signing events happen, too, now and then. My husband, Larry, and I participated in this event in Denver where I signed and sold books, including the illustrated Christmas story-in-verse, Something Is Coming To Our World.

You might even find your dog enjoys your poetry. (We know cowboys sing to their cows.) Here my dog, Jasper, seems to be engrossed in the anthology, The Animals In Our Lives, to which I contributed a poem about taking Jasper for neighborhood walks: “Canine Social Media.”

This humorous poem is the one that won me an award from The Dog Writers Association of America:

Meanwhile, poems keep coming to my heart and mind. And as I share them, they bring people together. I invite you to join the reading community of my latest poetry collection:

I wish you happy and meaningful poetry reading and sharing!

Joy and peace,

 


If you appreciate my posts and poetry, I hope you’ll read my books! If you want to send some quick encouragement for me to keep on keeping on, then here’s something else you can do:

Much appreciated!

 

 

 

Where All Things Meet, Mirror & Mingle

Greetings to past, present (and continuing) friends of Cladach Publishing… from beautiful Colorado! Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Larry and I are giving thanks for each of you and for all God’s blessings.

I am thankful that lately, as I am doing less editing of our other amazing Cladach authors, I can catch up on my own writing. With joy and gratitude I am announcing …

My new poetry book has just taken wing!

I think my readers will find these 70 poems on nature, the faith life, and love both provocative and encouraging. One pre-reader said these poems helped them “connect their experiences and challenges to meaning and purpose.” Hearing that gives me joy.

Written during the strange, difficult years of 2019-2025, the poems don’t shrink from hard issues. But, as in all my writings, I seek to continually bring us back to hope, wonder, and courage.

Earthy metaphors sprouted up in my heart and mind to paint word pictures of the sacred in everyday moments.

I think you’ll find that the whimsical art and color photos add to the beauty and experience of this book (My thanks to John Timothy Watkin, nature photographer, for the cover photo). And at the back of the book are 12 pages of notes that cast some light on the contexts in which each poem came to be.

FUN FACT:

Dragonflies will wing up the the book’s margin as you flip the pages!

The paperback is available now for $14.00. Click to order (buy one for yourself and one as a gift):

Thankfully,

p.s. As you taste and savor this offering of poetry, may you be renewed in wonder and courage to exclaim with me …

As sapling roots seek communion in intertwined, forested place;
As a smile resolves into laughter, a touch melts in embrace;
As a honeybee homes in on colony after foraging far, alone,
Caught in storms but again re-orienting, hoping against hope—
I flow to You, reach for You, fly into You.

(last stanza of the poem “You In Me and I In You” from WHERE ALL THINGS MEET, MIRROR & MINGLE.)

 

This Wide and Wonderful Land Needs a Rebirth of Soul

We are a nation of immigrants and descendants of immigrants. The voices and stories of immigrants remind us of our history. They can give us perspective (and hopefully wisdom) as we move into the ever-renewing future. My friend Alice Scott-Ferguson immigrated to America from Scotland as an adult. About her roots, she writes:

“In a land of deep class divides, my parents were not from the nobility or elite or formally educated. They were people of the land and sea in the farthest reaches of the United Kingdom, the Shetland Islands, where the sun never sets in summer and the aurora borealis dances in the long, dark winter skies.”

Many of my ancestors also came from the Scotland, Ireland, and England—but way back during the Colonial period. They crossed the Atlantic to the New World for economic opportunity (survival?) and for religious and personal liberty. Each generation moved steadily westward across the expanding frontier, seeking new beginnings and opportunities, until they reached the Pacific Ocean. And now some of us have moved back eastward. My ancestors include farmers, preachers, teachers, homesteaders, soldiers, and laborers. Many generations of blood, sweat, and tears have soaked into this land from shore to shore.

We are America. “This Land is My Land” we have sung with gusto. But I wonder: Does our subjectivity make it hard—even impossible—for us to take an objective look at our country, our land, our nation? Have we become full of “hubris,” as Alice has penned (in her poem below)?

I think the voices of immigrants, who continue to choose to come to “America the Beautiful” to seek life and opportunity and freedom, are voices we need to hear and heed if we want to “trade our hubris for humility,” as expressed beautifully in this poem:

America the Beautiful

Pilgrim from a more restricted place
to America, the parent
of my progression
land of my adoption.

Country of limitless opportunity
for me and my progeny,
ever grateful
sometimes sad
land divided
in agony
in greed
in need
of a re-birth of soul
into a vibrant whole
not of uniformity
but of unity
in our differences
in our sameness
with the world
though still we hold
that glorious space
of being
a framework
of freedom.

Wide and wonderful land
open your arms of welcome
let us love one another
let us not fear one another
let us harness the love
and discover fire again.

Let us trade our hubris for humility,
thee and me.

~Alice Scott Ferguson

(excerpted from Pausing in the Passing Places)


Photo credit: Original Oil Painting by Amy Whitehouse

Go a Wandering on Paths of Discovery

“I love to go a wandering upon the mountain track, and as I go I love to sing, my knapsack on my back…”* My sister and I learned this song in school as children. Living near the Sierras or Coastal Ranges of California, we would sing it together whenever we hiked up a trail.

Warm sunshine, wildflowers, scent of pines, and glimpses of wildlife delighted as we made our way up a winding path to our destination of mountain lake, trout stream, or lookout point.

I still like to trek trails and walk paths, and as I go I love to sing … or pray, or compose poems, fueled by the enchantments of the natural world around me and a sense of awe and companionship with God or with a friend.

… (Continue reading this post at my new, personal blogsite: https://prayerandpoetry.com/ )

Clouds of Glory

An unseasonably warm winter day (here in Colorado) yesterday prompted my husband and me to go out birding. We took our nature-loving granddaughter with us. We drove toward the mountains west of us, into a little canyon formed by a ridge along which a small creek flows, where an American Woodcock has been spotted (a common bird in some states but a rare visitor in Colorado).

Our granddaughter suddenly exclaimed, “There’s a rainbow cloud. I love rainbow clouds.”

I looked out the car window, and sure enough, all the colors of the rainbow were displayed in this cloud against a blue sky. I’d never before taken notice of such a cloud. Sometimes at dusk the Colorado sky is rimmed all around with clouds glowing orange and pink. This was about 2:45 p.m., thoughnot even close to sunset. The day was sunny, warm (for February), and dry. Yet this one, lone cloud contained a rainbow. We quickly and excitedly took pictures with our phones. (See photo above.)

The three of us shared a moment of awe and wonder.

I recently read an old book by the Scottish writer and minister, George MacDonald, The Hope of the Gospel. In it, he quoted the poem by William Wordsworth

(To continue reading this post go to my On Paths of Prayer and Poetry blog. This post has been moved there.)

 

Life As a Journey

“Does the road wind up-hill all the way?”

“Yes, to the very end.”

“Does the day’s long journey take the whole long day?”

“From morn to night, my friend.”


This poem by Christina Rossetti has often given me encouragement to keep stepping onward and upward on my own life’s journey. Just recently, Rossetti’s poem came to mind again— when I noticed that many Cladach book titles allude to various aspects and dimensions of this journey called ‘life.’ For instance,

that up-hill road will be an adventure that requires us to WALK, taking one step after another:

Walk the Land: A Journey on Foot

As we walk, we will inevitably need to TRUST:

Walking In Trust

The Journey will require COURAGE:

BRAVE: A Personal Story

We may need to RUN (turning from SHAME and toward LOVE):

Scandalon: Running from Shame and Finding God's Scandalous Love

Our journey may provide ESCAPE and NEW BEGINNINGS:

Stories of Escape from Sudan to Israel

Our journey may be fraught with DANGERS:

The Dangerous Journey of Sherman the Sheep

Our journey will involve SEARCHING and FINDING:

Searching for the Sacred On Kitten Creek

We will COME to oases that bid us to STAY awhile, be REFRESHED, experience HEALING, and CELEBRATE:

Come Stay Celebrate!

The journey provides stretches of solitude for PONDERING, CONTEMPLATING, and REMEMBERING:

Remembering Softly: A Life In Poems

The journey includes places to PAUSE, let others pass by, and find RENEWED PERSPECTIVE:

Pausing in the Passing Places

Along the journey we may find ourselves PRAYING, PRAISING, even LAMENTING:

I Cry Unto You, O Lord: poems

Opening our hearts, we will experience Renewed WONDER and Freer IMAGINATIONS:

Glimpsing Glory: Poems of Living & Dying, Praying & Playing, Belonging & Longing


And the rest of Christina Rossetti’s poem:

But is there for the night a resting-place?

   A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.

May not the darkness hide it from my face?

   You cannot miss that inn.

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?

   Those who have gone before.

Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?

   They will not keep you standing at that door.

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?

   Of labor you shall find the sum.

Will there be beds for me and all who seek?

   Yea, beds for all who come.


Courage!

“March on, my soul, with might!” (from “Deborah’s Song” – Judges 5:21b)

Sometimes I see a need but hesitate to step in and try to help. After all, who am I? Just little ol’ me. Sometimes I believe I have received a word from the Lord. But would others believe me or accept the word if I shared it?

Then I contemplate a favorite biblical heroine: Deborah (whose story is told in Judges 4 and 5). To me, she is an epitome of faith-filled courage. Deborah acted in ways unheard of (or at least highly unusual) for women in her time. She rose up and provided leadership when male leadership was fearful and hesitant. She had doubters and detractors, I’m sure. But she is immortalized and remembered for her devotion, wisdom, bravery, and leadership.

Deborah is the only female judge of Israel mentioned in the Old Testament. People would come to her for counsel and avail themselves of her wisdom and insights. Evidently, she knew how to listen for God’s “voice.” When she heard from God, she believed and acted with God to respond to a need.

Deborah confronted Barak, the general of the Israelite army, and told him God wanted him to go forth and defeat Sisera, leader of Jabin’s army. Barak, no doubt recognizing and admiring her ardor and courage,  answered that he would only fight if she would go with him. Deborah went … and inspired the Israelites to a mighty victory over their oppressors. And, as a musician and poet myself, I love that her rejoicing overflowed in song.

I admire women who let their experience with God embolden them to step into challenges, unfamiliar and perhaps hostile domains, and speak and lead courageously, effectively, and fruitfully. And I respect the men who listen to these women and “ride to battle” with them.

I wrote this poem (below) about Deborah. We can turn to Deborah for inspiration and strength to take courage and do what God is calling us to do, working with God in a way that flows out of our love for God and others.

DEBORAH

A fierce and beautiful woman
who inspired courage in men;
Sought out for wisdom and judgment;
trusted to lead and to win.

A woman who listened and let God
beat on the drum of her heart;
Marching to danger with faith,
speaking God’s words from the start.

Not full of self—neither loathing,
nor doubt nor concern—but aligned.
Giving and going and serving
in front of, beside, and behind.

Sure in times of uncertainty,
faithful when others despair;
Lifting the flagging to valor,
singing the victory aire.

~Catherine Lawton (from Remembering Softly: A Life in Poems)

Image: A 13th Century depiction of Deborah and Barak in the French National Library. Public Domain.

 

 

The Truth of Nature

“That particular moment will never come again.” –Claude Monet

When I attended the wonderful exhibition of Monet paintings at the Denver Art Museum (fall 2019), I enjoyed viewing up close the originals of many of Monet’s famous paintings. He is known, in part, for painting the same scene in different light, different seasons, and from different angles. You may recall his many colorful and dreamy paintings of his water lily pond or of the haystack series (a few of which are pictured above).

“Above all I wanted to be truthful and exact,” wrote Claude Monet in 1880. “For me a landscape hardly exists at all as a landscape, because its appearance is constantly changing… You have to know how to seize just the right moment in a landscape instantaneously, because that particular moment will never come again, and you’re always wondering if the impression you got was truthful.”

Monet’s observation and intuition describes, in a way, how I feel about the seasons of life and nature. I want to live each day being present to and attentive to the subtle changes of light and shadow, color and shape. I want to let them speak to me, let God speak to me through the truth of the moment, always also watching expectantly for the possibilities of the next moment.

I feel this way about writing a poem as well. The desire to be accurate to the feelings and truth of a moment, to seize and distill it in just the right “colors” and interplay of words to give an impression that expresses truth of “that particular moment” that will never come again in the very same light but which speaks of both the imminent and the transcendent.

One year I made a practice of taking a photo of my pollinator-friendly xeriscape garden, from the same angle every month of the year, to document how it changed, and how differently it presented itself and spoke to me. Some plants come up earlier, some later. Some flowers bloom only in spring; others begin flowering in mid summer. Different species of birds visit the feeders and water bowl in different seasons. The colors of the birds’ plumage changes from duller in the winter to vivid in the spring. Light plays differently on tree leaves and pine boughs as it shines direct and bright from above or paints a golden glow from lower in the sky. One season or time of day does not tell the whole truth of the garden. Just as one visit in one setting doesn’t tell you all about a person or a group of people.

God will speak to us in all seasons and show us different perspectives about the situations, events, and people around us. Take time to consider whether (as Monet said) “the impression you got was truthful.”

I had Monet’s words and my own experiences and observations in mind when I wrote this poem:

NATURE DOESN’T LIE

Nature’s truth presents in facets, angles of

perspective,

changing light,

filtering seasons.

Observe in stages or you won’t know its truth.

You cannot know with

one passing click or

fleeting look.

It doesn’t show you its whole self all at once, so

be still,

listen,

feel.

Recognition, Respect, Revealing come in

mutuality….

Knowing

happens there.

Be present to a flower, tree, or pond, and

gradually it will

be present to you

in truth.

~Catherine Lawton

(poem excerpted from the book, Glimpsing Glory: Poems of Living & Dying, Praying & Playing, Belonging & Longing)

Photos/Art: Wikipedia/public domain

Dogs, Humor and Poetry?

My dog Jasper loves taking walks and spending time with me in my gardens. He doesn’t even know he is mentioned in some of my books and poems, but I think he would approve. He would also approve of this fun thing that arrived in the mail this week: a recognition for a humorous canine poem in my mostly otherwise serious collection of poetry, Glimpsing Glory.

Do “humor” and “poetry” go together in your mind?

Well, we might ask, why do we write and read poems, anyway? I found a few famous answers to the question “why poetry?”:

“Poetry calls upon us to probe our deepest emotions and longings.” ~Sharon Olds
“A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a love sickness.” ~Robert Frost
“People who pray, need to learn poetry.” ~Eugene Peterson
“To elevate the soul, poetry is necessary.” ~Edgar Allen Poe

I think most of my poems in Glimpsing Glory do reflect “a homesickness, a love sickness,” they “probe deepest emotions and longings,” and express a kind of “prayer.” But sometimes we need our hearts lifted and loads lightened as well as our souls elevated, something to help us tilt our heads and look at circumstances with a different perspective. Sometimes everyday experiences cause my sense of humor to erupt in fun poems. When these are included in a volume of poetry, they are like lucky limericks teasing Irish elegies or perky wildflowers surprising in cultivated gardens. These things I find delightful, and I hope my readers do also.

Do you have a favorite humorous poem that brings a smile to your face and quickens your step? Perhaps it’s a folk song or ditty, or a poem like this one for which I received the above recognition:

CANINE SOCIAL MEDIA

My dog, Jasper, reads
pee mail with his nose.
And he’s a dexterous texter
as he lifts four toes.

Some moms dole out tech time;
but me? I give trek time.
Each bush, post, and bench
offers doggy wifi.

When he wiggles and whines
and starts to holler,
I lace up my shoes, click
the links of his collar.

When he meets other dogs, it’s
‘Will you be my friend?
Follow me in the net-erhood,
my hashtag’s a trend.’

Dogs carry screen names
on their behinds;
Cuz that’s where they sniff,
their profiles to find.

With his nose he scans lawns
for the latest chatter
from cute Lily on the corner
or Bruce the Irish Setter.

–Catherine Lawton

Here’s to soul-elevating and prayerful, as well as playful poetry!

~Catherine Lawton