Monday Morning Musings:
“Seven to eleven is a huge chunk of life, full of dulling and forgetting. It is fabled that we slowly lose the gift of speech with animals, that birds no longer visit our windowsills to converse. As our eyes grow accustomed to sight they armor themselves against wonder.”
–Leonard Cohen, The Favorite Game (1963)
“Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That’s all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth
I look at you, and I sigh.”
William Butler Yeats, “A Drinking Song”
I spend days writing,
then sighting and fighting
others’ dreadful prose,
I dream then,
want again,
wonder and poetry–
a moonship sleeps through time
dreaming of a glowing goddess
cool, with diamond eyes,
from her starry throne,
she lets a storm moan
and I,
seeing lights from the sky.
watch as mist sprays
plays melodies on garden stones
dances in the light,
a thousand fairies
diamond-eyed.
I spend days writing,
then sighting and fighting
more dreadful prose,
I watch a morning sparkle and gleam
and dream of conversing with the birds,
how it would be to sing their songs,
flowing thoughts and soaring words?
I wonder of what my slumbering cats dream
(perhaps nothing is what it seems).
Do cats and dogs, do cows
as they graze under the boughs
understand the birds’ songs
moo in harmony, sing along?
I spend days writing,
then sighting and fighting–
again, that dreadful prose!
And I wonder
why is there such hate
that negates
joy, hope, and reason
that seasons
life with tears and fears?
Why men would rape out of boredom
(Boredom!)
and why a woman,
or a man,
need to be taught a lesson
stressing
what?
What lesson has been taught?
That someone has been caught or bought?
that life is fraught,
so do not dream of what you could be, or brought
about with books and words and second thoughts?
I wonder who could hurt a child,
can their minds ever be reconciled—
the dreadful deeds and daily doings,
the demons in their souls?
no controls, no goals
lives brutal and bleak
do, die, never speak.
Do they never dream of a goddess glowing
her tresses silver and flowing,
or wonder how to converse with a bird?
heard their songs in morning air
happy to be alive, aware?
Where does the wonder go?
Does anybody know?
I spend days writing,
then sighting and fighting–
yes, more of that dreadful prose,
correct the errors, insert a phrase
(my eyes glaze)
then I wonder—
isn’t it time for some wine?
so we go, sit near grapes in the sunshine,
enjoy the beauty of the day
stay
as chatter and music play
in waves around us.
We drink wine,
red and luscious
(no, don’t rush this)
loving it,
loving you
I lift the glass to my mouth
I look at you, and I sigh.
wonder how and why we found each other
created two astonishing daughters
enjoyed days of blues skies and laughing waters,
realize I have found the music and the poetry
in life, in you, in birds, and trees
And though I cannot sing with birds,
I can wonder, dream, and write these words.
Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings 
The beautiful meaning of ‘wonder’ 🙂
Thank you. 🙂
🙂
And so the mind ruminates. I too look at the actions of people sometimes and wonder how such a thing could ever come to be. ( Ok, every day actually.) We are lucky in so many ways. Here’s to cats and birds and moons and stars and the humans who share our lives…(K)
Thank you, Kerfe. Yes, here’s to all that!
Lovely, Merril. You have a way with words!
Thank you very much, Cindy!
I will be so relieved when you are free from the clutches of “sighting and fighting
more dreadful prose.” Fortunately you have cats and birds and husband and wine to balance out some of this craziness.
To the wonder of life!
You are so sweet to be relieved for me, Marian! Add chocolate to your list. 🙂 The chapter I was reading was worse than I thought. UGH!
Here’s to the survival of everything except the will to fight war.
xxx Massive Hugs Merril xxx
Thank you, David. Hugs back to you!
This is so beautiful, Merril. Wonder-filled. 🙂
Thank you, Robin! 🙂
And now Monday is complete after reading this! Especially the last few lines! And I’m sure you can sing with the birds!!!
Ahh–thank you, Damien. You make me smile. 🙂
Ditto kiddo!!
🙂
Oh , Merril, I can feel the drudgery of that “sighting and fighting..dreadful prose but also the balance of all that wonder around you. Lovely!
Thank you so much, Kathy!
CATS!!!!!!!!!!! They light the spirits, for sure. There is a poem in Doll God about a murderer, and to write that poem I had to inhabit that the mind of a cold-blooded killer. What I discovered is something akin to boredom–a dullness and deadness of the spirit that feels like boredom where the afflicted will do anything to make himself feel alive. SCARY THAT.
Are you finding any of that in the rape stuff?
Thanks, Luanne. I will have to go back and look at that poem.
I was reading an article on what they call “streamlining”–gang rape in S. Africa. Men will plan to rape a woman (sometimes the girlfriend of one of them) out of boredom or to teach her a lesson for not behaving the way they think she should. It’s chilling. And the bus driver in India who thought the woman who was gang-raped (and died) on the bus was asking for it. And Brock Turner blaming his behavior on the party culture at Stanford. . .
This is all chilling. And each event has a chilling effect on women, too, I’ll bet.
Yes, and some events have a chilling effect on men, too.
Ha! I loved how you ended your lovely, wondering poem with wine. 😀 The fun and joyful photos say it all…. “When holding wine makes me wonder…. why I ever want to hold anything else?”
Aw, your sweet cats!
Thanks so much, Rose. 🙂
What incredible synchronicity — I am currently reading “Mozart’s Starling” (by Lyanda Lynn Haupt), musing on exactly the same thoughts–conversations with birds, and, in Haupt’s words, the notion that “the earth and its beings are extravagantly wild, full of unexpected wonders. It is time to turn from our textbooks and listen to the birds.”
This is a lovely poem. You capture so beautifully the things that ground us in love, that help us live in a world that is sometimes so horrifyingly unlovely.
Thank you so much, Tracy! I love synchronicity. 🙂 Someone else mentioned “Mozart’s Starling” at one point. I think perhaps I read an excerpt at one time.
Typical thoughts of many but written with feeling and balance. Many of my thoughts too, but the wondering about the cats was awesome!
Thank you, Frank. 🙂
I love how the second half of this evolves, that contrast of realized contentment of having someone who loves and respects you for who you are.
Thank so much. Yes, sometimes we–or at least I–have to remember how fortunate I am.