The earth is happier now
I can see it in the sky
Bluest cerulean days
Inkiest, stariest nights
From California to China
fine particulate matter plummets
Wild boar roam Madrid
A peacock struts through Dubai
For the first time from Punjab
the snow peaks of the Himalayas
come into view
And Venetians look clear to the bottom of canals
to see that their houses really are
built on sand
© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni
Thursday, April 30, 2020
Monday, April 27, 2020
Artists in isolation
No one visits Monet today.
Sun rising and setting
on gothic cathedrals and vast fields of wheat
without any witness to the heavenly palette
of sherbet-like oranges and pinks.
No one visits Degas today.
Jockeys restless for action while dancers
bronzed and oiled
balance on pointe and peek around curtains
into dark and echoing hallways.
No one visit Magritte today.
A cricket, a pipe and blue sky raining down men
just ordinary objects suspended in time
in a surreal, lonely exhibit of
art imitating life imitating art.
© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni
Sun rising and setting
on gothic cathedrals and vast fields of wheat
without any witness to the heavenly palette
of sherbet-like oranges and pinks.
No one visits Degas today.
Jockeys restless for action while dancers
bronzed and oiled
balance on pointe and peek around curtains
into dark and echoing hallways.
No one visit Magritte today.
A cricket, a pipe and blue sky raining down men
just ordinary objects suspended in time
in a surreal, lonely exhibit of
art imitating life imitating art.
© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni
Friday, April 24, 2020
Wednesday, April 22, 2020
That's the life
A house cat prowls
from room to room
sleeping
eating
playing
pooping
looking for affection
no big plans
no outings on the horizon
just the quest for the perfect indoor spot
to curl up in the sun.
We used to say, man, that’s the life.
Maybe not.
© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni
+++
Our perfect new indoor cat is definitely loving the quarantine life. Hoping to learn some things from her.
from room to room
sleeping
eating
playing
pooping
looking for affection
no big plans
no outings on the horizon
just the quest for the perfect indoor spot
to curl up in the sun.
We used to say, man, that’s the life.
Maybe not.
© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni
+++
Our perfect new indoor cat is definitely loving the quarantine life. Hoping to learn some things from her.
Sunday, April 19, 2020
This sun-drenched day
If it wasn’t for the dead and dying
and the news of the dead and dying
and the risk of being dead and dying
If it wasn’t for not having a calling
that puts me with the dead and dying
I would bask in the afternoon sun
warming the long walk through quiet neighborhoods
sparkling through just-washed windows
streaming across the book propped on my chest
If you are among the dead and dying
or you love someone who is dead and dying
Please forgive me
Alive here soaking in the sun
getting swept away by a glorious day
that just shouldn’t be
© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni
+++
I really enjoyed Krista Tippett's interview with Ross Gay, author of The Book of Delights (highly recommended), while I walked through the sunny streets today. A good reminder that it isn't selfish or disconnected to experience joy in sad and difficult times. It's human.
and the news of the dead and dying
and the risk of being dead and dying
If it wasn’t for not having a calling
that puts me with the dead and dying
I would bask in the afternoon sun
warming the long walk through quiet neighborhoods
sparkling through just-washed windows
streaming across the book propped on my chest
If you are among the dead and dying
or you love someone who is dead and dying
Please forgive me
Alive here soaking in the sun
getting swept away by a glorious day
that just shouldn’t be
© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni
+++
I really enjoyed Krista Tippett's interview with Ross Gay, author of The Book of Delights (highly recommended), while I walked through the sunny streets today. A good reminder that it isn't selfish or disconnected to experience joy in sad and difficult times. It's human.
Saturday, April 18, 2020
The things I say
I wrote this on day 3 of my daily poem challenge. Two weeks later my admonishments are still constant and the same. I quarantined this poem for 14 days and it hasn't changed.
The things I say
Stop touching your face.
Wash your hands.
Walk way around them.
Don't hug grandpa.
The things I say in love these days.
The things I say
Stop touching your face.
Wash your hands.
Walk way around them.
Don't hug grandpa.
The things I say in love these days.
Thursday, April 16, 2020
Poem for a sunny day
Despite waking up to a ridiculous blanket of snow yesterday, it's been a pretty lovely Spring. Here's a poem I wrote a few days ago capturing the stunning display in my neighborhood.
Peep show
"Beauty is not caused. It is." —Emily Dickinson
All at once
the earth is strutting its stuff like a floozie.
Forsythia a shrieking canary,
Dogwood draped with white boas
and every facet of emerald
sparkling in the morning sun.
It doesn't matter what we do or
don't do.
The earth is going to go on being magnificent.
So, stop convalescing.
Throw open those windows
and look around.
© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni
Peep show
"Beauty is not caused. It is." —Emily Dickinson
All at once
the earth is strutting its stuff like a floozie.
Forsythia a shrieking canary,
Dogwood draped with white boas
and every facet of emerald
sparkling in the morning sun.
It doesn't matter what we do or
don't do.
The earth is going to go on being magnificent.
So, stop convalescing.
Throw open those windows
and look around.
© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni
Tuesday, April 14, 2020
Stay-at-home school
Today I learned about the life cycle of Eastern brook trout,
the geographic features of Denmark,
and how to write percussion notation for concert band.
Then I explained it all to my son,
with repeated prompts, questions and
gesticulating
while he pointed out a cardinal on the bushes
and the mail truck parked outside.
He'll watch all the videos his teachers post
and click around on real estate sites
like a viable home buyer.
But he'll fling himself on the table top
like a scorned lover, all sighs
and tears,
if asked to add double numbers
or recall the purpose served by a noun.
Today, though, I marveled that he knew
the seas in the Netherlands would be salty,
that a trout is an organism and a group
form a population, and when to rest his drumsticks.
No telling what I'll learn tomorrow.
+ + +
My sister and I have been writing and sharing with each other a poem a day during this strange time of quarantine and social distancing. Today marks day 17. It's the most consistently I've ever written poetry. Dare I say that I'm beginning to even feel like a real poet. Maybe it will lead me to to become a real blogger again as well.
the geographic features of Denmark,
and how to write percussion notation for concert band.
Then I explained it all to my son,
with repeated prompts, questions and
gesticulating
while he pointed out a cardinal on the bushes
and the mail truck parked outside.
He'll watch all the videos his teachers post
and click around on real estate sites
like a viable home buyer.
But he'll fling himself on the table top
like a scorned lover, all sighs
and tears,
if asked to add double numbers
or recall the purpose served by a noun.
Today, though, I marveled that he knew
the seas in the Netherlands would be salty,
that a trout is an organism and a group
form a population, and when to rest his drumsticks.
No telling what I'll learn tomorrow.
+ + +
My sister and I have been writing and sharing with each other a poem a day during this strange time of quarantine and social distancing. Today marks day 17. It's the most consistently I've ever written poetry. Dare I say that I'm beginning to even feel like a real poet. Maybe it will lead me to to become a real blogger again as well.
Friday, April 10, 2020
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