Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" When the bored gods close a door, they open a window. And that's how that ugly wasp got in your shower stall.
Some people will feel that we at "The Gods Are Bored" are rather irreverent when it comes to religious feeling. Yesterday was Imbolc, for the love of fruit flies, and we made light of it. (pardon the double entendre)
It's our position here at "The Gods Are Bored" that even heaven can be humorous and that what makes us laugh makes us lighter. We're not big on solemnity here, and we don't prefer heavens that accent the devotion and eliminate the emotion.
We also can't write poetry. Our example in the previous entry proves it. We got two lovely lines, and then we had to turn the thing over to faeries to finish. On a Friday. After a long week of work.
Fortunately, we at "The Gods Are Bored" do read other bloggers. Two of them, both Appalachians with all the gifts that word implies, created awesome Imbolc poems. Here's the entry from Buddy Don, the Wandering Hillbilly:
Brigid
Upon a day that legends say hog shadows can fortell
The ending of the hoary winter season,
A child was born one early morn between heaven and hell,
Between the warmth of spirit and cold reason.
The year was old, the winter cold, yet tiny shoots of grass
Still bravely pierced the hardened frosty rime –
Their shoots unbowed they stood the vow that like the newborn lass
The spring would quickly grow and reach her prime.
For from that start twixt head and heart a small girl bathed in milk
Would grow to be the saint of three great arts –
She would exalt distiller’s malt, weavers craft, poet’s ilk –
All treasures from the soul’s liminal parts.
Our faith is clear in times most drear, when earth is bleak and frigid –
The gods did send a guide, a friend, to all in lovely Brigid.
I don't know about the rest of you, but I hear Appalachia all over this. Beautiful.
I encourage my readers to visit Buddy Don at "Wandering Hillbilly." When he's not posting poems he's posting photography or political commentary, all of it right nice stuff.
Not to be outdone, another of my favorite daily reads, Tennessee Jed, took a coffee break from his job repairing lights on a big bridge and wrote this charmer:
Some people will feel that we at "The Gods Are Bored" are rather irreverent when it comes to religious feeling. Yesterday was Imbolc, for the love of fruit flies, and we made light of it. (pardon the double entendre)
It's our position here at "The Gods Are Bored" that even heaven can be humorous and that what makes us laugh makes us lighter. We're not big on solemnity here, and we don't prefer heavens that accent the devotion and eliminate the emotion.
We also can't write poetry. Our example in the previous entry proves it. We got two lovely lines, and then we had to turn the thing over to faeries to finish. On a Friday. After a long week of work.
Fortunately, we at "The Gods Are Bored" do read other bloggers. Two of them, both Appalachians with all the gifts that word implies, created awesome Imbolc poems. Here's the entry from Buddy Don, the Wandering Hillbilly:
Brigid
Upon a day that legends say hog shadows can fortell
The ending of the hoary winter season,
A child was born one early morn between heaven and hell,
Between the warmth of spirit and cold reason.
The year was old, the winter cold, yet tiny shoots of grass
Still bravely pierced the hardened frosty rime –
Their shoots unbowed they stood the vow that like the newborn lass
The spring would quickly grow and reach her prime.
For from that start twixt head and heart a small girl bathed in milk
Would grow to be the saint of three great arts –
She would exalt distiller’s malt, weavers craft, poet’s ilk –
All treasures from the soul’s liminal parts.
Our faith is clear in times most drear, when earth is bleak and frigid –
The gods did send a guide, a friend, to all in lovely Brigid.
I don't know about the rest of you, but I hear Appalachia all over this. Beautiful.
I encourage my readers to visit Buddy Don at "Wandering Hillbilly." When he's not posting poems he's posting photography or political commentary, all of it right nice stuff.
Not to be outdone, another of my favorite daily reads, Tennessee Jed, took a coffee break from his job repairing lights on a big bridge and wrote this charmer:
The sun fell away autumnal
So your forecast is worth
When your view is successful
Vernal sun of spring birth
Oh bone aches are dreadful
Small creature humble in Earth
Solaris cure this head full
Weather provide me my mirth.
If you want you some righteous poetry, just ask a hillbilly, wandering or otherwise.
(I didn't ask Jed if I could use his poem, I hope he doesn't mind.)
FROM ANNE
THE MERLIN OF BERKELEY SPRINGS
3 comments:
i am touched that ye honord that lil pome by postin it. mostly i am touched in the hed, but also the hart.
thankee! tiz as appalachyun as it gits, too, witch thats whar i larnt my wordsmithin.
Me too.
Not a bit, in fact I am humble and delighted. Thanks for everything. I tried to make all the lines have five words to put some mojo on it.
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