Posts Tagged ‘poetry’
messages on a still winter day
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intentions
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snow, crystal-quiet
a sluggish breeze
riffles the woodland
sunrise lost in a rose sky
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listen to the rustle
of paper on wood
the mutter of unwritten lines
birch-bark, deckle-edged
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tatters and shreds
sorted by a sluggish wind
words I meant to write
letters ready for the mail
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misplaced
behind parcels
wait for postage
brown paper and string
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Copyright Jane Tims 2013
collecting glass animals
Today, I cleaned my collection of glass animals. Cleaning them takes a long time since I don’t clean them often. I wash each piece in soapy water and air dry it on a towel. As I work, I enjoy their sparkle and I think about how I got each piece. Since most of them are second-hand, I think about the unknown people who owned them before me.
Most of the animals in my collection belong in one of three categories: covered dishes, candle holders and dresser jars. A couple of the pieces belonged to my Mom. A couple of them are pieces she gave me as gifts. The rest, I found over the years at antique stores or auctions.
The covered dishes are mostly hens or chickens…
My favorite hen dish is a funny round chicken in clear glass…
I also have a rabbit in this collection…
and a duck…
I have a few glass birds of various colors. Each bird has a berry in its beak, and a hollow in its back to hold a candle…
I’ll show you some of my dresser jars in the next post.
Do you have a hen dish among your dishes?
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Parting the Collection
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1.
to collect: to gather together
these prisms
of glass and light
took a lifetime
what will become of them
when what becomes of me?
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2.
collect: a short prayer
from a mouth like dust
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I bid for each
between Limoges and Occupied Japan
with a steady hand
and a palpitating heart
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3.
sapphire
feathers pressed into glass
bird in the house
at the window
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cut crystal
edge of flight
from the menagerie
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ruby swan
amethyst bee
topaz duck
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glazed eyes
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4.
lenses rise in your throat
siliceous gasses
burst from your beak
as a berry
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past and future
transparent
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shards of glass
shared among
my daughters
do not understand
the meaning
of collection
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do not know
a Sybil
rises in your beak
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Published as ‘Parting the Collection’, The Antigonish Review 95, Autumn 1993
Revised
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Copyright Jane Tims 2013
dear deer
This year, I moved our feeders to our front yard.
They are not so easy to see from the house, although I have a good view from the window of our library.
The deer have liked the new feeding station. We see them almost every day. They empty the feeder too quickly and also visit the compost pile. We don’t deliberately feed the deer, but they visit the feeders anyway.
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deep and delicate, hoof print
evidence, this space is shared
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deer, eat peelings by moonlight
one floor up, we sleep, unaware
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lulled by winter carbs
carrots and potatoes in the supper stew
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Copyright Jane Tims 2013
featuring a 1941 International truck
I have had a few poems accepted for publication recently. These include ‘abandoned resort hotel, Devil’s Head’; ‘Berries in Cellophane’; and ‘1941 International K-4’. They appear in Issue 10 (Spring, 2013) of The Lion’s Head Magazine (online). You can have a look at these three poems at http://lionsheadpress.blogspot.ca/
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‘Berries in Cellophane’ is from my manuscript on growing and gathering local foods.
The poems ‘abandoned resort hotel, Devil’s Head’ and ‘ ‘1941 International K-4’ are both part of a series, not yet completed, on abandonment. This series began my interest in abandoned churches, and lead to the novel I am now working on – ‘Saving the Landing Church’.
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The poem ‘1941 International K-4’ was inspired by an old International truck, seen in a wood lot in southern New Brunswick in the fall of 2011. It was set up on steel drums and looked like it was no longer used. Rusted and out-of-commission, she was still elegant to behold. The poem came easily, written in the ‘voice’ of the truck, recalling its various adventures.
Have a look at the poem in Lion’s Head Magazine and let me know what you think.
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Copyright Jane Tims 2013
a moment of beautiful – icicles
the space: drip line of a house on a winter day
the beautiful: icicles
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On the day after an increase in temperature, when the snow from the roof is melting, the front of our house, on the south side and in full sun, is always dripping and making icicles.
They glitter and sparkle, sculptural wonders of frozen water.
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ice storm
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for three days
freezing rain and willow
have hung uncertain magic
along the river
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ice in layers
laid on the bones
of the tree tops, branches break
candy-coats crack in the sun
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I refuse the sparkle
resist the awe
worry
the bones will not recover
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© Jane Tims 2009
snowfall and summer
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envy
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in the hammock
the snow rocks
gently, enthralled by
whispers
of fireflies
owl calls
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wind harasses
the pines
mutters them miserable
snow fall ceases
stars punctuate
indigo sky
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snow dwindles
shrinks and sublimates
the hammock cradles
a frail cadaver, swings
in obedience to
winter storm
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Copyright Jane Tims 2013
in the circle of the evergreen wreath
Every year, during Advent, I either purchase or make a wreath of evergreens to celebrate the coming of Christmas. Last year, making the wreath, I had a little help. Zoë decided the perfect place to perch herself was within the circle of the wreath.
Our wreath materials were all obtained on our lake property. The species we used for our wreath were:
- White Pine (Pinus Strobus L.)
- White Cedar (Thuja occidentalis L.) also known as Arbor Vitae
- Balsam Fir (Abies balsamea (L.) Mill.)
- Common Juniper (Juniperus communis L.) -the variety we used was too prickly and I won’t use it again.
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At this time of Advent, we wait in the darkest days of the year for Christmas. The wreath is one of the most endearing symbols of this wait. Made of evergreens, it speaks to the concept of everlasting love. To count down the Sundays before Christmas, we light purple and pink candles to symbolize ideas of Hope, Peace, Joy and Love. The lighted candles also represent bringing light into the world.
The wreath is another of those symbols borrowed from pagan times, when the circle represented the ever-changing seasons and the circle of life. The evergreen stood for the part of life that survives the winter season and candles symbolized light shining through darkness.
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gathering green
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in the space between solstice
and the whisper of stars
in a herded sky
daylight shrinks, always one hour
short of rested
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in the thicket we gather
armloads, garlands of green
fragrances of cedar and pine
red dogwood twigs
stems of red berry, alder cones
curved boughs of fir
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flexible as mattress coils, piled on ground
to rest, await brief
overlap, longest night
and feathering of angel down
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watch, through the trees
the struggle
planet light
and pagan fire
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© Jane Tims 2012
how high the snow?
Last week, we had our first substantial snow. My husband is happy because he plows driveways with his tractor. I am happy too because the snow makes everything clean and white.
Both of us wish we knew how much snow will fall this winter. Even the weather station does not make any attempts to guess the snowfall in the coming months.
However, I enjoy the old ways of prediction … my Dad used to say the snow would be as high as the wasps built their nests. Last week, while walking one of our trails, my husband found a wasp nest at chest height. Last year, in 2011, there was a wasp nest in our arbour, at a point just above our heads. Therefore, we have concluded… this year we will have less snow than last.
By April, I should know if this method works!!!!
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prediction
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had a lengthy meeting
before the Queen OK’d the plan
and started the nest – concise, globular,
paper contract with winter
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she ordered us to work,
to strip wood from
the human house next door,
chew the pulp, publish the bulletin
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takes stacks and layers of paperwork
to predict with certainty
where home will be safe and above
the snows of December
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the secret in fine print,
on paper walls –
light grey from the patio fence
dark grey from the shingles
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Copyright Jane Tims 2012
a moment of beautiful – November leaves
the space: the November sky
the beautiful: oak leaves, not yet fallen
The oak is one of the last trees to give up its leaves in autumn.
I love the look of oak leaves against the sky. Individually, their deeply lobed pattern is striking. As a group, the leaves make a kind of randomly tatted lace.
These leaves are a frail, ineffective barrier to rain and snow, but to me, they are a statement of defiance against the coming winter.
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password
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my palm
and its splayed fingers
against the glass
defy the cold
demand the secret word
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the way the oaks construct
tattered shelters against
November chill, cling to
their leaves, whisper
misinformation
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Copyright Jane Tims 2012
tough to follow
In high school, in Nova Scotia, I belonged to a history club. We did an interesting project in about 1971, tracing the route of an old stagecoach trail through the woods between Lower Sackville and Fall River. We were able to follow the road since it had been raised above wet ground. We also found old culverts still intact. One of the things we made was a relief map of the area, with the hills built up in plaster and the old road marked in red. The project created, for me, a lifelong interest in old roads.
old trail obscured by a Bracken understory
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tough to follow
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the old road at the edge
of the hill is tough to follow
no clues, no footprints, no bent twigs
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eventually all familiar ways
grow over
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a layer of bracken
covers the track
like a cloth over biscuits
at the dinner table
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primo-canes of bramble
claw you back
your mother reminding you
to wear your sweater
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better to look up
follow the ribbon of sky
marked by the absence of branches
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Published as ‘tough to follow’, Canadian Stories 15 (85), June 2012
Copyright Jane Tims 2012
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