Just filled up on oatmeal with dried apricots and peanut butter rolled into it. Yea, and a couple of cups of coffee and here I am. That’s my prep for this post today and then the darkness fading outside helps. I have been thinking about poetry and this poet that Steve-O has dropped into my life, our lives, Ted Kooser.
In the Wayne Dyer book that I finished reading last week there were some words praising poets as people who see possibilities that might not be apparent to us in our normal everyday existence. You know we studied poetry in school and it was more about the different forms and the mechanics. I can’t recall spending much time on the stuff Dr Wayne is talking about.
Of course a lot of the Old Testament of the Bible is free verse. The Psalms, for instance are good examples. This is the stuff Our Catherine wants to study and I am warming to the idea. Maybe all these things are coming in at the same time for a reason. Hmmm.
Anyway, maybe back to poet Ted. I need to get you a little background on him because his story dovetails with my story, at least about working with cancer is concerned. Here is the preface to the book paraphrased by me:
“In the autumn of 1998, during my surgery and recovery for cancer, I began taking a two mile walk each morning.”. I was told by my doc to stay out of the sun so I walked early. I hadn’t been reading or writing for a long while as I was “feeling miserably sorry for myself”. As the fall turned into winter my health began to improve and I started walking. One morning I tried my hand at a poem and I have been writing since. So, this book is one hundred of these morning visions.
Yea, I can relate to that. And maybe poetry is a better way to express some of the occasions that are involved with “battling cancer” and the “end of life” experience. Perhaps this is something to explore for old Felipe.
My oldest friend from Buffalo, NY that I grew up with in the 1950’s will love to hear of me on this path. He is a big poetry buff. He can be so enthusiastic about it that it’s catchy. I remember him saying that some poetry you have to live with like when a horse rubs on the boards of his stall and wears big dish shaped concavities in them. You have to sort of gnaw on it over time real close and personal to grasp it in all it’s levels.
I talked about this with My Rebecca who writes poetry in binges and whose words and easily understood with a form that rhymes. That’s her style as a word person. I think I am of a different school although I enjoy her writing and thoughts. And I can’t imagine being as prolific as she is but maybe.
Just my thoughts on a Friday morning before going off to the big city with Our Jennifer. Off to “battle cancer”, alperfect, love you, Felipe.
Buenas Dias Felipe!
Yesterday was my first full “back to work” day following my hip replacement surgery. Glad to step up on the quarter deck and report All’s Well, Sir!
Lots of poetry gets to me, and some of it doesn’t. When I want to be amused by poetry, I rely on Baxter Black, the Cowboy poet. If you’re not familiar with him, try him out. I’m sure his humor is more humorous to me because of the ranching connection, but he’s funny to many who have never stepped into a cow pie.
And, found this just yesterday and I thought it was appropo for both you and Annie.
“Give yourself a perfect day. Do what makes you happiest. Look upon what gives you joy. Speak to those who warm your heart. Listen to that which lifts your spirit. Surround yourself with sights and sounds and people who give you pleasure. For all the happiness you give to others all year long, give yourself a perfect day” ~
You have wished the same to us for ever.
Gracias,
PFJ
PFJ ~ so glad to hear that you are up and around. I know when I am not moving I get real grumpy dumpy. Yes, am familiar with Baxter Black, he is a hoot. Around here we have fisherman poets, similar.
I got the tired, need a nap. Always, thanks for your thoughts. Felipe.
Love it! Yes, the perfect day. What can I say, my days are filled with the beauty captured on film of both Vashon Island and of Spain and France. My days are filled with Phil’s voice laughing, cracking up, choking up, and Rebecca, speaking from the heart, always from the heart. My days are filled with the kind words of strangers, who write to me to thank me for Phil’s Camino, and of course, ask after the man himself <3 Can't wait until our paths cross, PFJ, and can't wait to walk with you again, Felipe. Til then, I carry you in my heart. Life is so very sweet with you in it.
Annie ~ thank you for all that you do and all you do for us. You keep it all moving. You keep it all inspired. I am looking forward to finding Farmer John with you and holding him down for tapas. Love to you, Felipe.