Last Thursday morning a Rosella slammed
into my bumper.
Blinded by the fog
It bounced on the road like a beach ball.
I turned back hoping it wouldn't be squashed by a yellow logging truck.
Dodging cars, I picked it up and placed it onto my denim hat.
It lay there looking as though it was resting
Its chest was warm and I was hoping I could I hear its heart
Its feathers were as soft as my possom skin pillow, where I felt like laying my head.
I wanted to have it at home with me and to not leave it abandoned and lonely on the road.
I'm always hoping to entice Lorikeets down from the Cedars with birds seed so I can get a closer look, instead of just an occasional flash.
And here was one spring gift
"Be careful what you wish for when you ask for the tinderbox to be opened."
Walking and watching the Tui drink and chime
in the cherry blossoms of the Japanese garden,
swooping over sticks, with names of loved ones.
Tell me you don't believe in miracles
"But for the grace of God
there go I"
says Granny in one ear
Always have clean underwear
in your top drawer
in case you
go suddenly, says Nana in the other
It made me smile even though the occasion was sombre
The Galleries in Hamilton crammed with bird
sculptures and pictures held
no crosses that day as a memorial for my dead parrot
I would be making one of my own.
On the way home in the heavy Waikato rain and fog with the
wipers clicking and the subliminal slimming tape droning on I felt its peaceful spirit float around me
This small rainbow body on my back seat
had nothing to fear about having clean underwear
Its feathers were still bright
This rainbow of hope is
buried under the lemon tree in my Japanese Peace garden.
The lemons will grow bigger, brighter and more juicy now and its spirit will live on.
Long live and God bless the Rainbow
Here is my one of my favourite poems
Can you turn a sad event into a poem?
Try it. It can be cathartic and a good way to express your emotions.
A snail is climbing up the window-sill
Into your room, after a night of rain.
You call me in to see, and I explain
That it would be unkind to leave it there:
It might crawl to the floor; we must take care
That no one squashes it. You understand,
And carry it outside, with a careful hand,
To eat a daffodil.
I see, then, that a kind of faith prevails:
Your gentleness is moulded still by words
From me, who have trapped mice and shot wild birds,
From me, who drowned your kittens, who betrayed
Your closest relatives, who purveyed
The harshest kind of truth to many another.
But that is how things are: I am your mother,
And we are kind to snails.
Creative Quote of the Day
And when it rains on your parade, look up rather than down. Without the rain, there would be no rainbow.
Gilbert K. Chesterton
Decorate and write out your favourite poem in my studio on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday mornings.
Phone Janet Keen 346-3435 or email firstname.lastname@example.org for details
Chinese, Japanese and Korean people welcome.