Penlark's Pages

Thoughts for the free in mind and spirit.

Lunch Break on a Windy Day

     by Penlark

The wind wants to greet me,

Play hide-and-go-seek with me,

   But I am unmoving.

My thoughts are thunder

   Chasing and wrapping around

   The idea of thought

   And thoughts with words, special words

   For you and for me.

 

"I'll have two cheeseburgers with ketchup,"

   orders a woman with the voice of routine.

Tomorrow: Two cheeseburgers with ketchup

Wednesday: Two cheeseburgers with ketchup

Friday: Two cheeseburgers with ketchup

   How monotonous it is to write it...

 

My food can be words

(at least for right now)

And my mind zaps!

   The OED unabridged.

 

 

"A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds..." -Emerson

 

posted by: penlark at 19:50 | link | comments |

posted by: penlark at 13:27 | link | comments (1) |

 

(where is Peachtree anymore?)

when the desert sun set on you

colors of growing up became vivid and sharp

(as if the sky turned hi-def)

and the baseball flew in the air

and the horizon turned pink

as I fought against time and twilight

(when my brother was still shorter than me

and his lips were still blue from ice-pops)

and I begged for one more hour,

just one more hour

as bats fluttered wildly about the aluminum light-posts

and bit by bit stars appeared

twinkling in a flawless Nevada sky

(starlight dimmed by casino lights, the

Luxor “You can see it from space!” light)

forgive me, Peachtree, for thinking Hite street

was far better, or Harrison Avenue-

(I never rolled over Rockaway’s rocks with my rollerblades)

the black-top was wide, with room to grow

dotted with invisible cooing doves

accustomed to the rhythms of the desert

and when the rose bushes bloomed on the corner

I smelled them everyday

just as night closed her palms over the world

and bid Peachtree goodnight.

 

posted by: penlark at 19:56 | link | comments (1) |

 

Haiku

 

Oprah on my tube

I watch her at four o’clock

The oven is hot

 

posted by: penlark at 09:07 | link | comments (5) |

A fat sparrow landed in my front yard. To me, he seemed harried, like the late bird searching for scraps.

He hopped from place to place. He was quite good at hopping. I observed him; the way he moved was his finest quality, I thought.

And his small head pecked at the ground. Tall grass blades dotted with dew surrounded his small, light body. Through my porch window I saw him look up and stand completely still; he stood poised as nature's feathered statue. His beak then pointed to the sky. The morning light grew stronger.

And a noise came out of the fat sparrow. It sounded like a growl. Yes, if I could use any word to describe the sound, it would be "growl."

So as the fat sparrow hopped from one tuft of green to another, he occasionally growled.

And I guess that was his morning; perhaps he'd awoken on the wrong side of his nest.

I did not consider a growling sparrow to be a good omen for the day...

posted by: penlark at 09:25 | link | comments |

     My two friends Nicole and Josh own a Beethoven bust. He sits on top of a tall bookshelf in their dining room, looking down at all the residents and visitors with a very determined look (or, he's constipated- but that's impossible because he's just a bust...). While I munched on the scrumptious squash, I looked up at Beethoven and asked him why he looked so frownish (telepathically, of couse. I mean, if I started talking to the bust out loud, I'd lose my friends, and I happen to like them). So, he replied quite promptly that he was not frowning, but thinking very hard on a symphony he wanted to write. "I- I just can't finish it," he stammered in frustration.   So I suppose that's why his plaster eyebrows were bent- not in anger or disapproval, but in deep concentration. Very well. Then, he added, "Plus, I haven't eaten in over 175 years and look at me! I don't even have a stomach for it!"  But then, very quickly, I decided to change the subject, hoping to lighten the mood. Thinking up a question, I passed the squash.

      "Beethoven, I think you should be happier," I suggested. He may not like what I said, but what could he do? Climb down with his teeth and bite me? "After all, you've been resurrected....somewhat....and you're living in a beautiful home with real people. In your previous life, you must've been surrounded by individuals who were not always themselves, and on top of that, didn't know how to cook. Well, Mr. Beethoven, you've got the best deal in town here, and I for one am proud to be amongst true friends."

       Somehow, the squash made full circle and ended up in front of me. Before I scooped out another helping, I secretly glanced at the musician. For a split second I thought I saw him nod in agreement, and then smile. Maybe he found the right notes to his symphony. Or perhaps he realized that his new place in the world was a good one, and the sweetness of the moment caught him by surprise.

posted by: penlark at 06:10 | link | comments (2) |

Last night (early this morning), Jupiter and the Moon were no-shows. I took my binoculars to work with me, hoping I'd be able to catch a glimpse of Jupiter passing behind the lunar surface, but clouds covered the sky all night long. Interestingly, this event just happened to coincide with the anniversary of my Grandma Bev's birthday, which is also today. She passed away over four years ago after a long struggle with cancer. And so I think about it... Jupiter and the Moon. On her birthday. How apropos. So eventhough I couldn't physically see any stars in the sky last night, I still knew they existed. And although Grandma Bev is not physically here with me now, I still know she's alive. I am smiling. Happy Birthday, Grandma Bev.

posted by: penlark at 11:44 | link | comments (2) |

Penlark's Tribute to Walt Whitman and the Stars in the Sky

When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer
When I heard the learn’d astronomer,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.
                                                      Walt Whitman, 1819-1892

Here's a fun astronomy activity for night-owls, shift workers, or people who somehow find themselves awake between 11p.m.-5 a.m. on the morning of December 7th.  Jupiter is very close to the moon right now. On the morning of December 7th, Jupiter will pass behind the moon, popping out on the other side an hour later (check skyandtelescope.com for exact times when this event in the cosmos will happen where you live).  The moon will rise, and gradually through the night, move closer to Jupiter. You will need strong binoculars or a telescope (preferred) to see Jupiter slip behind the Moon's bumpy lunar surface (which will be phenomenal), but only the naked eye will be required to see the giant planet reappear.  So, if someone ever asks you if you've ever seen a planet move behind the Moon, you can say, "Well, yeah, I did!"  I recommend you find a spot to view this spectacle in an area with a relatively low east-southeast horizon, since the moon and Jupiter will be between 20 and 30 degrees up in the sky. Also, with a telescope, you will be able to see 4 of Jupiter's moons: Callisto, Ganymede, Europa, and Io, which are always located at different points around Jupiter every time you look at the planet. I will not provide any astronomical data or graphs and charts, fearing there may be any Walt Whitmans reading my blog; but to simply walk out and bask in starlight and wonder sounds just as rewarding and delightful. 

 

posted by: penlark at 05:01 | link | comments (2) |

     "To be nobody- but yourself- in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else- means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight, and never stop fighting" -e.e. cummings

     Give yourself a break from social pressure to fit in. Be yourself. Follow that natural childlike instinct that is often snuffed by being too busy, too afraid, too out-of-touch. Speak your mind. Wear something that reflects the spirit inside of you. Walk outside without regard to the what another person on earth may think of you. Honor your individualism.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                                                          

 

 

 

 

posted by: penlark at 11:06 | link | comments (3) |