Student Poems-Three

/ Juliana Lightle / 1 Comment

Three poems follow:

Nature

Nature is

a beautiful place

so start

kicking that

can all over

the place

we will

we will

rock

you

Ethan Singletary

 

As I am laying at home

I hear a loud thunderous noise

The sound startled me out of my seat

I looked out the window

There was a giant funnel

I heard the tornado siren

As the trees were coming out of ground

I run downstairs to take cover

The storm was ruling the land, but

I was safe from the natural catastrophe.

Makenna Byrd

 

The Grip

As the wind blows and the storm flows through this

Desolate wasteland

As you wonder the numbing thunder puts you at peace

As the wind whips and the storm grips the desolate ground

As it whirls and twirls bringing wreckage

to the sky

Someone brings a tractor to clean up

this decay

For this storm may bring sorrow but all through

the hollow the great sorrow is met with a great

peace

As the family sifts among the rubble and

finds on this trouble at least they are in

one piece

Corbin McKinney

 

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Student Poems-Two

/ Juliana Lightle / 1 Comment

Here is the next set:

 

The Beauty of Nature

 

Nature is everywhere

It teaches you how to share,

God created nature

With beauty you can always capture,

Without it there will be no peace

Everywhere will soon cease,

Nature includes some of the biggest animals

Like the awesome looking camel,

Nature has everything from Willow Trees

All the way down to bumblebees,

Nature is everywhere.

 

Jaci Allen

 

life vs. nature

 

spring, summer

winter, fall

these are the seasons of the year

nature’s crazy

nature’s fun

nature has something for everyone

it can be scary

not so sweet

life’s like nature scary and fun

when times are tough rivers run

we may cry laugh and smile

life’s emotions drive me wild

 

Jordin Arnaud

UT_Cougar05

 

 

Student Poems–One

/ Juliana Lightle / 2 Comments

After reading nature poems by Denise Levertov and Wendell Berry, the students wrote their own nature poems.  Ten wanted me to post their poems on my blog,  As as consequence, I will post two student poems each day.  Here is the first set.

 

In late fall evening

There are leaves falling

and they are crunching

under your feet

as the birds fight

for the tree with the

most leaves My family

watches football in

the warm cozy house

of ours.

 

Trey Matthews.

 

 

Nature is beautiful

and helps you see,

the wild is suitable

for you and me.

Nature helps you grow

in strength and mindset,

and helps you realize

your true assets.

Look around and see

the beautiful world God made for me.

 

Bailee McAlister

 

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Beauty

/ Juliana Lightle / Leave a comment

Once I was married to a man who sarcastically commented that I could find beauty anywhere.  It’s probably true.  Taking a hike in semi-arid country, I find tiny flowers, hidden lichens, cactus the size of my thumbnail.  I keep thinking of the miniscule lavender flowers near the rock walkway by the garage.  They only appear briefly in the spring.  They are so tiny, tinier than my pinkie nail.  How can I see them?  They stand out so brightly against the rocks, they’re hard to miss.  Well, hard for me to miss.

Every natural place has its own beauty.  I can only think of one place I’ve been where I questioned this:  a place on the Interstate east of LA next to the Arizona border.  In June when it was 118 and the hot wind nearly knocked me over, I recall asking myself, “How can anyone live here?”  Yet I’ve seen photos of the same desert carpeted with hot pink flowers in the spring.

Every natural place has its own beauty.  You just have to be open to seeing., feeling, experiencing  its magic.

 

Note:  This essay was part of an assignment for a writing class from the Story Circle Network.  The assignment is to write six minutes each day using just one word to get you started and writing about that word. You can make a list of topics or just pick a word out of a book.  The teacher is Yesim Cimcoz. It would seem I never took of photo of the tiny flower mentioned above.  Below are photos of native flowers taken around my house.

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The World in One Room

/ Juliana Lightle / Leave a comment

 

Four jaguar heads stare at me,

Mexican, Costa Rican.

A third guards the mantel,

partially hidden in tropical plants,

attack ready, tail raised, jaws open,

teeth bared.

 

My feet rest on a coffee table

carved in Kashmir.  I look at the photo

of the young man whose family made it.

He took me home to meet his mom,

to the floating market.

Once peace reigned there.

Now I wonder if he is safe, alive.

 

The Hoop Dancer raises his arms,

the Acoma pot exudes ancient

black on white beauty, painted

by the tips of yucca stems.

The Thai Spirit House begs

to appease evil spirits.

I should put food and flowers there;

I never do.

 

Corn plant of life–for Navaho, Hopi,

me, painted, growing up my wall,

blue and red birds flitting through

the stalks, singing ancient songs.

Corn Maiden rug hanging on the wall;

an Isleta Pueblo girl won a contest

with its design.  Four Corn Maiden

Kachinas watch the room.

Corn everywhere–Sacred Corn.

 

Three Ethiopian crosses, St. George

and the Dragon, Frida Kahlo doll,

Argentinian Madonna, Tohono O’odham

baskets, a painted cow skull, Nigerian carved

wooden elephants, including a Chieftains chair,

the stained glass transom window from the house

where my dad lived from birth to ten.

 

In a room filled with windows, there

is little room for paintings, yet–

purple bison glide across the prairie,

an Iraqi woman flies through an azure

sky filled with dark blue birds,

a 15th century mystic, Kabir, tells

a tale in poetry, Navaho spirits,

pumas walking toward me–

my obsession.

 

Rugs scattered–Kerman,

an unknown Persian city, Afghani,

Egyptian, Indian, Zapotec, scraps of old

Turkish rugs sewn together.

 

In one cabinet, Grandmother’s china,

Mom’s Czech crystal–a wedding present

decades ago, Grandson’s painted art,

the silverware Dad gave Mom on their

first wedding anniversary,  Mom’s

everyday dishes–flowers blooming.

I use them every day.

 

These objects–a testament to who I am:

World wanderer, seeker, citizen.

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What’s in a Name?

/ Juliana Lightle / Leave a comment

Juliana!

Internet tells me I am Jove’s child.

I’m a goddess??!!

Where I grew up, no one had

my name.

The Queen of Holland had my name.

I wondered why?  A Spanish name.

Research explained:

Holland once ruled Spain.

It did not go well.

 

Juliana!

Internet tells me I am

Aspirational

Benevolent

Honest

Inventive

Original

Is this true?

Maybe. Probably.

Does a name create who

one becomes?

If I had a different name

would I be someone else?

 

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Note:  This poem came out of an assignment in a class I am taking with the Story Circle Network, an organization that promotes women writing and telling their stories.   The instructor, Yesim Cimcoz, lives in Turkey.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Italy–a day in Naples

/ Juliana Lightle / Leave a comment

Naples is big; it is old; it contains stark extremes.  How old?  The New Castle was built in the 13th century; yes, that one is the new one.  Coming from Sorrento one first sees the ship yards, huge apartment complexes where the less fortunate dwell, industrial areas.

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Some said they thought it looked dingy.  I laughed to myself.  These buildings are old and near the sea.  Will anything built in the US last this long?

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IMG_4505Then we drove up higher and higher into another part of Naples.  You can see Mt. Vesuvius in the background.

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The island to the right in the distance is Capri. More on Capri in a later post. In this part of Naples it is obvious that some people live very well there.

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Then we went lower again driving along the seafront and parked where we could walk to the oldest part of Naples.

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A very old cathedral in the background to the left.  We wanted to go in but it was closed until later in the day.  To the right of this photo, a large group of protestors were shouting slogans, etc. through loud speakers. Military were evident in the square.

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A city government building.  The statues are of various famous people in the history of Naples.

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Looking across the square from the church steps.

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The oldest opera house is in Naples.  Operas are still performed here.

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We walked to another area and went inside this building which is filled with restaurants and shops, many with very high end clothing.

IMG_4532As we left, I noticed the bay was filled with tiny sailboats.  It was very windy and I thought they were very brave.  Later, I learned that these tiny boats are training boats, the ones you use when you are first learning to sail.  It looks daunting to me. I have only sailed on boats much bigger.

Why do so many people still live so near a non-dormant volcano?  Someone asked this question.  The response was:  Why do people live in Florida, Houston where there are hurricanes rather often.  Why do people live where there are tornadoes, earthquakes, mudslides? At least Vesuvius provides a beautiful backdrop.

 

 

Italy–Spaghetti with Lemon Cream Sauce

/ Juliana Lightle / 1 Comment

My favorite pasta dish in Italy was like none other I have eaten anywhere.  The first time–and the best dish–was in a little restaurant along the side of a narrow street in Amalfi.  The Amalfi Coast is famous for its lemons and where they create the best limoncello.  Therefore, it is not surprising that they created a pasta dish featuring lemons.  When I returned home, I experimented to recreate it.  First, the spaghetti–yes, they called it spaghetti–was considerably thicker than spaghetti in the US.  I guess it was homemade.  I did find a reasonable substitute here, bucatini from Italy.

Here is my recipe for two people:

1/2 lb. bucatini made from durum wheat semolina

1 lemon

heavy cream or half and half

lemon essential oil

butter

Cook the pasta as directed on the package.  While the pasta is cooking, using a potato peeler, peel strips from the rind of the lemon and cut into small pieces. If not using lemon essential oil, juice the lemon.  After the pasta is cooked and drained, place back in the pot with a couple tablespoons of butter and stir until butter is melted.  Add the lemon rind and lemon juice or essential oil to taste.  Add the cream carefully–just enough to make a little sauce.  Serve and grate parmesan or asiago cheese on the top.

Serve with a nice green salad.

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Farther up this street just below the school, we found the restaurant where I ate the spaghetti with this sauce.

 

 

The Christmas Tree

/ Juliana Lightle / Leave a comment

My grandson and his girlfriend put up and decorated the tree for me this year. I did put on the lights. Merry Christmas to all my followers and friends!!

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In childhood, no fake tree for us.

Just after Thanksgiving, the family search transpired.

Mom and Dad preferred Douglas fir, six feet tall.

Dutifully, we kept the tree holder filled with water,

never used real candles.  We put on lights, big ones,

blue, green, red, an inch long, then carefully hung on delicate,

colorful, round balls.  The most difficult task: the icicles,

long, silver, reflective.  They had to go on just so.

Years later, children gone, Mom and Dad bought an

artificial tree, fake Douglas fir, incredibly real in appearance.

When they left Missouri for Arizona every winter after harvest,

they abandoned Christmas trees, gave me the fake Douglas fir.

I still have it.  How long?  Decades, several at least.  State of the art

when they bought it, it requires work, assembly, strings of lights.

Every year, I tell myself it is time to get one of those new trees with…

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Italy–Sirens’ Song

/ Juliana Lightle / Leave a comment

As we drove along the Amalfi Coast, the guide told us the mythological story of the Sirens.  My daughter took a photo out the window of the Sirens’ islands.

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Later I wrote this poem remembering the travails of Odysseus.

 

The melodious Sirens’ song

lured Odysseus

begging to be untied from

the mast.

Even the roaring sea’s

voice whispered in

comparison.

They sang honeyed

love songs to starving

sailors, longing for a woman’s

touch, a kiss, ecstasy.

With knife claws, they

ripped them asunder,

crunching bones, blood

erupting.

Satiated, they sang,

eternal, etherial, deceptive.

 

 

Several days later at a shop in Sorrento, while my daughter was looking for a medusa cameo, the owner, a cameo artist, brought out Siren cameos.  He insisted the Siren’s have been terribly misunderstood.  I wanted clarification but unfortunately other customers appeared and I remain mystified.