Monday, December 21, 2015


empty canvases
brushes, pencils, mug of tea

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2015


  1. That moment before writing ... silent magic ...

    1. In this case, the moment before art...but the feeling's the same.

    2. Sounds like you are in for a perfect day! I hope we get to see what you create! Enjoy!

  2. Love the quiet clutter, almost as if the desk was murmuring...

    And tea with milk? How enlightened. :)

  3. Shared this via Twitter with a photo of said bread.

    dark bread
    homemade chévre
    from Thorsen’s goats
    even the creek the beavers
    dammed floats
    shards of gray ice
    in the reflected sky
    i owe much
    to this day

    steve peterson, 2015

    1. Every day should begin and end with

      "i owe much
      to this day"

    2. Steve, such a collection of moments. Totally agree with you Mary Lee. Writing in this community this month has made me be still and appreciate. I want to print out, or maybe do some kind of art these two lines, as well as "Must be present to win" and put them somewhere as my "life theme" for next year.

  4. Mary Lee, your clutter is conducive to provide the inspiration to write. My desk is beyond belief at this time of year. (just an aside) Your poem speaks to me this morning as I continue to gather the poems, quotes, music, and love to design Autumn's Palette. Anticipation says it all!

  5. Steve, your poem is a perfect celebration for #CelebrationMonday. It has provided me with an additional reason to start my day off with poetry.

  6. I have three this morning. One a tanka (kind of), that started with the tree poem from yesterday, then two more haiku. I didn't publish the last one on my blog.

    black gray brown rough smooth
    branches, divide, intersect
    rope swing, tree house, crooked ladder
    nests, carefully hidden
    so many stories live here

    (C) Carol Wilcox, 2015

    Sunday Afternoon Conversation with My Mom
    "Twenty-two years ago
    today dad died," she says.
    "Seems like yesterday."
    (C) Carol Wilcox, 2015

    "To My Sons"
    You demand groceries,
    roof, cars, respect and money.
    You reject my love.

    (C) Carol Wilcox, 2015

    1. Carol,
      These are such powerful poems (and three! I might add, is super impressive!!) The first, so quiet and filled with memories and stories, some clear, some untold or half-remembered, perhaps? For some reason, those nests really got me. I imagine how they saw such activity this summer and now their quiet is a visible sign of change.

      "Sunday Afternoon" is so poignant and plaintive, yet also so matter-of-fact.

      And "Sons"? How powerful is the direct address -- "you". I can hear my mother saying similar words, perhaps, when I was a young man and pushing my way out of the family space to dry my wings for flight. Your words help me see things more layered and complex.

      Thanks for all three, so different in tone and feel, but all important for me to read this evening. Thanks!