LightenUp Online

My light poem, "A Different Art" is online today at LightenUp Online HERE.


My apologies to Elizabeth Bishop . . .

Of Ink and Blood

Photo by ellirra (123rf.com)

Bequeathal

For Caitlin and Steven

Unlike the lilac bush that knows

its spikes will weather winter’s snows,

I’ve yet to find the wherewithal

to rightly come to terms with fall.

In forests full of empty nests,

withered boughs, November guests,

I seek but find no feathered thing,

no green remembrances of spring.

All that I have, now summer’s gone,

are love notes from a lexicon.

My gift to you, this fragile bud —

inheritance of ink and blood. 

(by Catherine Chandler, first published in The Raintown Review, December 2008)

Thank you for this day . . .

Missing you.

6th Pushcart Prize Nomination !

My sonnet "Avaritia: If the Shoe Fits" has been nominated by the editors of The Raintown Review for a 2012 Pushcart Prize.

This is my sixth nomination.

Thanks, Anna and Quincy!

Avaritia: If the Shoe Fits

They say Imelda owned three thousand pair
of shoes. The ones with Duracells would flash
as she merengued on the dance floor. She
would buy, with tidy sums of laundered cash,
Gucci platforms, pumps from Givenchy,
Ferragamo flip-flop leisurewear;
not to mention Halston golden calf-
skin spike-heeled boots. Her size, eight-and-a-half.

She ran the Beatles out of town, pell-mell,
then fled herself, accused of gross misdeeds.
Back in Manila now, she struts, undaunted,
in cap-toe slingback sandals by Chanel.
Lennon was right. Love’s all one really needs.
Perhaps that’s all Imelda’s ever wanted.

(by Catherine Chandler, from "SALIGIA: Seven Deadly Sonnets", originally published in The Raintown Review, 2012)

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Thanksgiving Song (sung by Mary Chapin Carpenter HERE)
 
Grateful for each hand we hold
Gathered round this table.
From far and near we travel home,
Blessed that we are able.

Grateful for this sheltered place
With light in every window,
Saying “welcome, welcome, share this feast
Come in away from sorrow.”

Father, mother, daughter, son,
Neighbor, friend and friendless;
All together everyone
in the gift of loving-kindness.

Grateful for what’s understood,
And all that is forgiven;
We try so hard to be good,
To lead a life worth living.

Father, mother, daughter, son,
Neighbor, friend, and friendless;
All together everyone,
let grateful days be endless.

Grateful for each hand we hold
Gathered round this table.

14,000 and counting!

The Wonderful Boat

In the past six months, visits to my blog have doubled, from 7,000 to 14,000. 

My most loyal readers are from the United States, Canada, the United Kingdom, Germany, Russia, Indonesia, France, India and Australia, though I've had visitors from all continents.

Thank you, readers!

"November is a season all its own —"

Late afternoon sky over my front yard, November 8, 2012 (Catherine Chandler)

November

by Catherine Chandler

November is a season all its own —

a month of saints and souls and soldiers. Snow

will soon white-out a fallacy of brown.

It is a month of waiting, lying low.

November is a season all its own —

a time for turning back the clock as though

it’s useless to pretend. A dressing-down.

Thin ice entices me to touch and go.

November’s neither there nor there, but here

in dazzling dawns that dissipate to grey;

here in the tilting asymmetric branch

and sharp note of a towering white pine where

the pik and churlee of a purple finch

can either break a heart or make a day.

Click HERE to hear the lovely song of the purple finch

November Sky

"The thinnest yellow light of November is more warming and exhilarating than any wine they tell of.  The mite which November contributes becomes equal in value to the bounty of July."

 
-   Henry David Thoreau  

"Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?"

Election Day
by William Carlos Williams (1940)


Warm sun, quiet air
an old man sits

in the doorway of
a broken house—

boards for windows
plaster falling

from between the stones
and strokes the head

of a spotted dog



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