Weather as inspiration

Almost anything can inspire.  I take that back.  Anything can inspire.  After all inspiration is getting ideas from something that you come in contact with, something that makes you think, do, create.

Well, putting my child to bed tonight, we listened to the rain on her skylights.  The following was inspired by that experience, by the sound of the drops, by her trying to settle down to sleep.

Julia’s Rain

By Kimberly L. McClune

May 18, 2011

Trying to sleep

The low lit room was alive

With fresh, soft sound.

Rain tapped

Pita-pat on her window,

Roof,

Skylights.

Listening

Her body became the rain

Her feet, tiny dancing droplets

Her legs, big fat drops,

Splat

Her body, mist clinging to the air

Suspended

Her arms, great sheets of rain

Attacking sideways

Her head,

The sound itself.

Echoing in her ears

Cotton balls

Fairies feet

Drum roll

Fingers tapping

No rhythm

No pattern

Nothing sensible

It filled her completely,

Embodying the rain

Falling purposefully,

At first slowly, softly,

Then fearfully,

A weight.  Averse to landing,

She cuddled closely in the soft blanket.

Feeling the rain push onward

Press down,

Caress her consciousness

Lulling,

Cradling,

Hush.

Taken by the rain,

She slept.

New Spring Poem

Was inspired yesterday morning by the fresh clean air and started to compose this.  I hope you enjoy it and that it brings you to the same place I found myself.

 

New Morning

By Kimberly L. McClune

May 13, 2011

 

Long cool shadows

Stretched across the sleek, glossy lawn.

Speckled sunlight

Illuminates dewdrops

Clinging to bud and blade.

 

Chirp embellished breezes

Whisper through

Newly dressed branches.

 

Crisp, clean and fresh

The air envelopes my arms, my shoulders,

My hair.

 

Pungent with recent rain

The air is full and sweet.

Old, empty billows

Slowly creep toward the horizon.

Clean, blue sky follows,

Brightened by the new sun.

Faerie Dance

O.K. Have been terribly uninspired in last few months.  However, tonight I was struck by the sound of the rain on the windows and skylights in my daughters room.  Images came into my head and words took up the nooks and crannies.  As soon as I got her settled, I came to my computer and penned the following little item. 

I hope you enjoy it and that it brings images to you as well.

Faerie Dance

By Kimberly L. McClune

April 26, 2011

Faeries and pixies dance,

Prancing in a whirling dervish on my roof tiles.

Swirling with their partners,

Their crystalline shoes, tap, tap, tap

Out joy and delight.

The night air is filled with the rollicking

Lilting dance.  Tap, tap, tap

Go the tiny delicate feet

Of the mystical sprites.

Dreamily I lay awake, listening,

Wondering at their celebration.

Imagination soars to distraction.

Visions of shining, almost impossible figures

Swing and sway in fanciful patterns across the pavement.

Up against a window,

In and out of corners and along tree branches

From leaf to leaf,

Flying on the wind, the flashes twirl

Shaking off the cares we clothe ourselves with each day.

Oh to be as unfettered as Heavens cleansing dew.

To unabashedly shed the woes and weights

Of this worldly existence,

To reach the heights of carefree exultation

On spritely feet

Tapping and spinning across the sky.

Loss of a friend, Kirk.

While no poem has come to me yet about this loss, it has shaken me very much.

Interesting emotions have come over me since learning of Kirks passing on Friday afternoon.

 

It has always been interesting to me why we cry when someone else has lost their life.  It seems selfish to cry when I am still here.

Or perhaps I should be jealous that my loved one has been able to leave the trials of this life behind and go to be with their creator. 

As a Christian, I believe that when my spirit leaves this life, I will join my Lord, and stay with Him forever in the life He has made for me

with Him.

 

With this spirituality in my heart, I should be joyful that my dear friend, Kirk, is no longer on earth, suffering through his illness.  His body gave way and his spirit has moved on.  In my belief, he is in a better, peaceful, lovely place where he can rest and exist in a painfree heaven.

 

Despite this spiritual belief, I have still had trouble with tears.  Are they truly selfish, or are they tears of joy that his suffering has ended? 

With all I know of grief, this is one thing I have not come to terms with. 

 

No matter how many tears I cry when someone I care about passes, I have less and less fear of dying myself.  The older I get and the more of life I experience (wanted to say endure) the thought of my own death is not frightening.  Part of this is my faith and part is my desire to be in a better situation.  (No I am not suicidal)

 

So, as I process and come to terms with the fact that I will not see my dear friend on this earth again, I will continue to have tears, enjoy the flood of memories that come and miss him deeply.  Once his body has been laid to rest, I know that my heart will be more at ease, but the loss will be felt each day, as with all the other loved ones that have gone before him. 

 

So, I pray gently to my God that He is holding Kirk closely and guiding him to the rest he so deserves.

There will never be another to come close to the friend that I found in Kirk.

 

For those reading this, always remember the loved ones that have left this earth.  Keep their memories close in whatever way you will.  The pain of loss is less when we keep the light of our loved ones shining in our hearts.

 

God bless you my friends.

 

 

 

 

 

Rejection

Well, it's a good thing I had low expectations of being accepted for publication when I made my very first ever poetry submission to a publisher.  I sent two poems in to Poetry Quarterly, Smoke and Newsreel.
They gave no reason or comment as to why the rejected these two works.  However, I am not feeling down.  I know that I enjoy writing when I get the chance and that others find enjoyment in my word combinations.  This is enough for me.  Publication is a dream that may yet come true if I work hard and keep trying.

Reposting both submitted poems here now.  Hopefully you will find some value in them.

Smoke

Revision November 7, 2010

Kimberly L. McClune

Clinging to the air, fluctuating,

Gradient translucence shifts in silent grace.

Amorphous fog, ethereal silk

Drifts away then subtly coils and spins.

Spinning, wispy

Slithering threads bend and twist,

Swirling into dancing clouds.

Stretched and pinched,

Gossamer pinwheels insinuate

Enigmatic spheres.

Stirred by invisible forces,

Unfocused, aimless,

Free and unfettered existence

Finally dissipates into nothingness.

Newsreel

Kimberly L. McClune

January 12, 2011

Memories are the treasured moments on the newsreel of your heart.

They come image by image, feeling by feeling,

Thought by thought.

Even scents, sights, and sounds bring them back.

Turn on the newsreel.  Hear the clicking of the film.

Watch it, feel it, hear it, and see it.

Cherished memories are the newsreel of your heart.

More poetry

Again, I apologize for the delay in posting.  Pipe burst in basement of new townhome last month and am just getting house back to normal.  Being a claims adjuster in my work life sure does help sometimes.

So Have been inspired to do some writing.  Now need to get to my notes for bunches of other poems and get them finished.  Hope you enjoy these two new ones.

This was written when considering a photo of heavy snowfall on limbs outside my window last spring.

Late Spring Snow

By Kimberly L. McClune

March 7, 2011

The weighted limbs sagged beneath the burden of layer upon layer of frozen crystals.

As they fell, dancing easily to the earth, the crystals had no volume.

When arriving, they joined one to another until their bulk swelled.

Linked together, they formed a weighty mass.

Pressing down, they bent limbs and stems both young and old.

When they melted, at first dripping, then flowing, then rushing, they found their way together, easily dancing again.

This was inspired by the Canadian geese that congregate neara my office about a week or so ago.

Winter Geese

By Kimberly McClune

March 5, 2011

A curious line of Canadian geese, like ants, followed one another to a round dirt patch in the field.

Standing in a loose clump, all stared in unison across the dried brown grass considering their next destination.

After quiet contemplation, a large synchronous group lifted off without warning.

The remainder watched intently as the others winged away toward a nearby pond.

Finally after watching their brethren, the last of the geese lifted off as one.

Winging swiftly, they alighted to the cool water, reuniting.

New Post

Welcome.  I apologize for the long delay in posting.  Have not written much poetry in the last month or more.  Have been busy and not inspired, to be honest.  Had an epiphany tonight and wrote this.  Hope you enjoy it.

 

Last Night

By Kimberly L.McClune

January 10, 2011

 

A sheer veil overlaid the sun and

Softened its brilliance.

 

The Earth's brim, overtaken by a titian haze,

Cut a distinct profile

 

The radiance that adorned the perse, grey nebula

Gently diminished.

 

Hues faded and silhouettes transformed

As the twilight advanced.

 

A murky tint obscured the sun

Its last sliver sinking into dusk.