A Room Of My Own

Without Further Ado I present H.D. Amaranth       I Am I blind alas, am I blind I too have followed her path, I too have bent at her feet, I too have wakened to pluck amaranth in the straight shaft, amaranth purple in the cup, scorched at the edge to white. Am I blind? am I the less ready for her sacrifice? am I less eager to give what she asks, she the shameless and radiant? Am I quite lost, I towering above you and her glance, walking with swifter pace, with clearer sight, with intensity beside which you two are as spent ash? Nay I give back to my goddess the gift she tendered me in a moment of great bounty. I return it. I lay it again on the white slab of her house, the beauty she cast out one moment, careless. Nor do I cry out: "why did I stoop? why did I turn aside one moment from the rocks marking the sea path? Andromeda, shameless and radiant, have pity, turn, answer us." Ah no - though I stumble toward her...

Karen Solie was born in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan where she grew up on the family farm. She currently resides in Toronto, Ontario, of which she supposed jokingly, “You will love Toronto more if you can get out of it.” Her bio has an interesting work history; it states she worked as a farm hand, an espresso jerk, a groundskeeper, a newspaper reporter/photographer, an academic research assistant, and an English teacher. Karen has steadily become one of the key players in Canadian literary academia. In 2007 she was one of the judges for the Griffin Poetry Prize . My post ‘Poetry Brigade’ scribbling about Karen at the Kingston Writersfest has her as a poet that stood up and stood out at her reading. She was wonderful to listen to, her work was original on many levels and she really connected with the audience. During an open discussion with the other poets there, including Lorna Crozier (the moderator), Kevin Connolly and David O’Meara, she recalled a quote that she repeated to us affection...

Oh my...inspiration. I personally met Lorna Crozier on September 26/09. She was delightful. Upon first seeing her, I thought her a frail, small, being. She walked into the Writersfest wearing a long brown peasant skirt, a belted top, a colourful long scarf, and her boots stole the show. She moderated the Poets Brigade beautifully- no boring questions, she was interactive and engaging. Lorna Crozier’s voice has the grace and confidence her life experience has earned. The three attending poets, Karen Solie , Kevin Connolly , and David O’Meara , were great company for the much admired Lorna. As the Poetry Brigade wrapped up she announced with sass “Poetry rocks”. I met with Lorna at the close of the Poetry Brigade. She was handing each of the mentionned poets back her copy of their own books and requested that they be autographed. She asked them to dedicate the books to ‘Lorna and Patrick as we share everything’. I found this admirable. Lorna is accessible, generous and fun. Physically, ...

Change your thinking Let new experience Be your torch Chloe liked Olivia Your torch now lit Let this experience Change your world Take the torch With courage tell it Forge ahead of all Chloe liked Olivia She will forge further With courage tell her How to take her torch Take truth and freedom Your mind to the edge “Fullness of expression” Chloe liked Olivia Full of expression Step out to the edge Freedom equals truth Quote from A Room of One's Own, Virginia Woolf Freedom to express, try The NaiSaiKu Challenge

The golden rod has returned To the lambent field It stretches high, higher everyday, waiting In the lambent field As the golden rod has returned The NaiSaiKu Challenge Janet

As I sat at the piano Counting my fingers through The basic notes I felt someone with me It was Hannah Schmitz And she was counting her words To The Lady With the Little Dog It was the same. Her young lover was teaching her. Again, same. Now, I am on my own As she was on her own And I am finding 'the' on the piano.

I feel You gazing at me What message do You scribe From what divine source do You abide Uriel, sitting with St. Peter, amidst the heavens From Your divine source I shall abide The message You do scribe Feel me staring back at You Janet Still gazing at The NaiSaiKu Challenge

(dreamer by neslihans) Summertime, a favourite past time The favourable past we attempt to live by Which haunts us so We icon against Marilyn herself What was done, has been undone It's undoing now done And so I, too, am done. The favourable past, which must be left in the past As now IS our favourable time to live by ...summertime. The NaiSaiKu Challenge http://naisaiku.blogspot.com/

(Syrup and honey by 6eternity9 via devantArt) We soften each others fears Allusions, illusions Aimlessness, lives together Twin brain, twin soul, soul mate Aimlessness lives, together Alluded, illuded We soften each others fears Still 'illuded' by The NaiSaiKu Challenge http://naisaiku.blogspot.com/ Janet

(CityGirl by monislawa via deviantArt) The weakness comes in waves When it washes I am faced with two choices, swim or succumb. Do I endure or cave to my own desire? The latter is pure instant pleasure So I succumb The need subsides – temporarily The weakness creeps in again I can see it watching me I feel it poking me, tempting me I taste it as I swallow I know it is there, stalking me It can be overwhelming All encompassing Insurmountable The weakness comes in waves Sometimes we bend the rules...The NaiSaiKu Challenge http://naisaiku.blogspot.com/ Janet

(via deviantArt) Say you are a bird Bare your mind and body free There are no limits Be open to your imagination and your visions There are no limits Bare your mind and body free Say you are a bird By the way, and certainly related, I recommend to anyone watch The Notebook again. Still 'open' to The NaiSaiKu Challenge http://naisaiku.blogspot.com/ Cheers Janet

(via deviantArt) Ravenous Unfulfilled hunger Desiring Visceral semblance Lascivious look Desiring Unfulfilled hunger Ravenous Janet Jarrell

Poetry is important to me. When I read poetry, my mind is at peace. I liken it to a form of personal meditation as I find myself quite focused. I am able to be quiet. There are few things in life I do where I can say that. Once during a skiing lesson, my instructor stopped me, held my gaze and simply said ‘Try to keep your body quiet.’ This may sound strange to some, but I knew exactly what he meant and then I proceeded down that mountain unintentionally making a lot of noise. More practice required there. Thankfully, staying quiet comes quite naturally for me while reading poetry. I have read a few poems of late by Octavio Paz. In his lecture Poetry and Modernity he speaks of his passion for poetry and expresses “Poetry has been for me not only an everyday task and an invincible affection but also a vice, a fate, and ultimately, a cult, a personal religion.” I feel his passion in his words. A wonderfully beautiful poem of his worth reading is titled Sunstone – it is quite lengthy an...

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more . ~George Gordon, Lord Byron, Childe Harold's Pilgrimage Celebrations for this day are unearthing all across Canada, the United States and if you check your local listings, somewhere in your neck of this World too. Book Launch This Wednesday, April 22 7:30 p.m. at Books & Co. 289 Main Street, Picton, Ontario, we are commemorating Earth Day with the launch of a new book " Stand up women: Heal Mother Earth ". This project, spearheaded by Roz Bound, began with written contributions of local women in and around Prince Edward County. It was introduced at the Town Hall in Bloomfield, Ontario in March on International Women's Day, and now the book is borne. Books & Co. is a beautiful, welcoming and bustling gem in the downtown core. There will be refreshments provide...

Laughter lading in the labyrinth of lust The lucent ladybird lands for luck Lamenting low labial love Love abundant Lovelorn Lovesome Leaving Loved Loquacious languid lyricisms by Janet Jarrell We two are to ourselves a crowd. Ovid

April is Poetry Month Acid In Jakarta, among the vendors of flowers and soft drinks, I saw a child with a hideous mouth, begging, and I knew the wound was made for a way to stay alive. What I gave him wouldn't keep a dog alive. What he gave me from the brown coin of his sweating face was a look of cunning. I carry it like a bead of acid to remember how, once in a while,you can creep out of your own life and become someone else- an explosion in that nest of wires we call the imagination. I will never see him again, I suppose. But what of this rag, this shadow flung like a boy's body into the walls of my mind, bleeding their sour taste- insult and anger, the great movers? Mary Oliver

Our perfect August Our lambent time The hour, month, season Hast thou passed so Suddenly Nay, in time You have naught but slept Wake now thee love See how it has suffered Under your euphoric spell Comfort creates the nest Complacency settles in (…poem interrupted by life) With Love On Love Janet

I, Mother Earth Cradle thee tenderly Offer up my breast Feeding naturally I, Mother Earth Raise thee up high Open thy mouth Release thy cry I, Mother Earth Bounty give to thee Embrace my gift Engorge and set free I, Mother Earth Innate and free Hold in my womb Dominion of fertility With love Janet