#Susan Glassmeyer

[bodyalive]

Photo by Valentin Balan on Unsplash

* * * *

This beautiful poem is one way to express how glad I am for my work. It is a privilege to help people in this life and to have learned skills and [more importantly] ways of being and living that taught me the value of helping other people. It is almost 50 years for me having graduated an unusual college. In that space I was taught and nurtured by many extraordinary beings. It was truly an education of both heart and mind.  After college the learning and the teachers continued.  They continue all the way up to this present day.  I’ve been reflecting on the singular people who have been my teachers over the years. I hope I have given back some small portion of what I have received.

I Tell You (excerpt) I could not predict the fullness of the day. How it was enough to stand alone without help in the green yard at dawn. How two geese would spin out of the ochre sun opening my spine, curling my head up to the sky in an arc I took for granted. And the lilac bush by the red brick wall flooding the air with its purple weight of beauty? How it made my body swoon, brought my arms to reach for it without even thinking. * In class today a Dutch woman split in two by a stroke - one branch of her body a petrified silence, walked leaning on her husband to the treatment table while we the unimpaired looked on with envy. How he dignified her wobble, beheld her deformation, untied her shoe, removed the brace that stakes her weaknesses. How he cradled her down in his arms to the table smoothing her hair as if they were alone in their bed. I tell you - his smile would have made you weep. * At twilight I visit my garden where the peonies are about to burst. Some days there will be more flowers than the vase can hold. ~ Susan Glassmeyer ~ (The Incomplete Litany of Untold Stories) :: [Echoes of Panhala]

[dk-thrive]

Some days there will be more flowers than the vase can hold.

I could not predict the fullness of the day. How it was enough to stand alone without help in the green yard at dawn. How two geese would spin out of the ochre sun opening my spine, curling my head up to the sky in an arc I took for granted. And the lilac bush by the red brick wall flooding the air with its purple weight of beauty? How it made my body swoon, brought my arms to reach for it without even thinking.

*

In class today a Dutch woman split in two by a stroke - one branch of her body a petrified silence, walked leaning on her husband to the treatment table while we the unimpaired looked on with envy. How he dignified her wobble, beheld her deformation, untied her shoe, removed the brace that stakes her weaknesses. How he cradled her down in his arms to the table smoothing her hair as if they were alone in their bed. I tell you - his smile would have made you weep.

*

At twilight I visit my garden where the peonies are about to burst. Some days there will be more flowers than the vase can hold.

—  Susan F. Glassmeyer, “I Tell You” from Body Matters. (Pudding House Publications, 2009)

[finishinglinepress]

FINISHING LINE PRESS FEATURED AUTHOR OF THE DAY: Bucky Ignatius Bucky Ignatius is a semi-reformed hippie who has spent most of his 70 years in or near Cincinnati where he currently lives, tending a large garden and a small cat. He has been writing most of his life, with a focus on poetry sharpening over the past 20 years. https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/5050-by-bucky-ignatius/ 50/50 Fifty Under Fifty by Bucky Ignatius $12.49, paper “When we are hungry, there is a tendency to gobble down the little appetizers served before the main meal. Don’t let these small poems fool you. They are a nourishing meal in themselves. Savor them slowly. There is space around them for a reason. Digest the distillations of one man’s deep engagement with the every day world. You may begin to recognize a hunger for paying attention to what your own life is feeding you.” –Susan F. Glassmeyer, poet and founder of Little Pocket Poetry “It would be easy to say that in this age of short attention spans, Bucky Ignatius’s poems reflect such curtness, but on the contrary: Fifty Under Fiftypresents us with either resonating images, good to linger over, or thoughts worth mulling for a time. One of the great qualities of poetry is its ability to slow us down and invite our close attention. These acutely observed and reflective poems do just that.” –Richard Hague, Poet, Writer and Teacher “Fifty Under Fifty reads like a verbal improvisation–short, short movements played out in tight free verse and form. Sounded over musings on love of nature, romance, creativity, and both the big and little things of everyday life, the specifics catch the mind’s ear and eye. There are alliterative bloodroot blooms and wisteria tendrils as wiry flouters. A lost earring goes on the lam in the vinca. Goldfinches dress down in winter khakis while pajamas will wear lilac after being line-dried. The moon is an old pearl. A beloved cat peeks out from behind the words now and then and elsewhere Pope Francis channels in his inaugural homily Otis Redding’s song, “Try a Little Tenderness.” This book contains a rich interplay of image, sound, and color that absorbs the reader like a performance while inspiring meditative thought.” –Claudia Skutar, Poet and Professor, University of Cincinnati Rating: ***** [5 of 5 Stars!] https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/5050-by-bucky-ignatius/ #poetry

[ronovanwrites]

Introductions

Introductions #poetry #identity #presence #self

How do we see ourselves? How do we introduce ourselves, as we stretch out our hands to greet another? Do we acknowledge and embrace our whole selves in all spaces? Or do we censor who we are in some?  What is your self-identity? So here’s a little… um, challenge from me. If only to ponder :-)   Introductions Let’s not say our names or what we do for a living. If we are married and how many times.…

[radiatingblossom]

I Tell You

I could not predict the fullness of the day. How it was enough to stand alone without help in the green yard at dawn. How two geese would spin out of the ochre sun opening my spine, curling my head up to the sky in an arc I took for granted. And the lilac bush by the red brick wall flooding the air with its purple weight of beauty? How it made my body swoon, brought my arms to reach for it…

[bodyalive]

* * * *

This beautiful poem is one way to express how glad I am for my work. It is a privilege to help people in this life and to have learned skills and [more importantly] ways of being and living that taught me the value of helping other people. It is almost 50 years for me having graduated an unusual college. In that space I was taught and nurtured by many extraordinary beings. It was truly an education of both heart and mind.  After college the learning and the teachers continued.  They continue all the way up to this present day.  I’ve been reflecting on the singular people who have been my teachers over the years. I hope I have given back some small portion of what I have received.

* * * * *

Echoes of Panhala I Tell You (excerpt)

I could not predict the fullness of the day. How it was enough to stand alone without help in the green yard at dawn.

How two geese would spin out of the ochre sun opening my spine, curling my head up to the sky in an arc I took for granted.

And the lilac bush by the red brick wall flooding the air with its purple weight of beauty? How it made my body swoon,

brought my arms to reach for it without even thinking.

* In class today a Dutch woman split in two by a stroke - one branch of her body a petrified silence, walked leaning on her husband

to the treatment table while we the unimpaired looked on with envy. How he dignified her wobble, beheld her deformation, untied he

shoe, removed the brace that stakes her weaknesses. How he cradled her down in his arms to the table smoothing her hair as if they were

alone in their bed. I tell you - his smile would have made you weep.

* At twilight I visit my garden where the peonies are about to burst.

Some days there will be more flowers than the vase can hold.

~ Susan Glassmeyer ~ (The Incomplete Litany of Untold Stories) Photo by Valentin Balan on Unsplash

Echoes of Panhala