verlie burroughs

Pagoda Garden Mae called me  wu-li   at the chinese cafe where I worked for chips and gravy (on special days chicken chow mein) Day 21 prompt: muse on your name and nicknames you’ve been given  

  Raven In Kwakw a k a 'wakw legend  it was Raven who first  brought light to the world Raven the trickster, the creator! Lifted the lid of the wooden box  with his powerful beak And released the Sun  Once when I was driving    in my car on my way home to the beach I looked up and saw a pair of them  flying side by side, ahead of me For a few miles we were travelling  at about the same pace  It was lovely!    And for a moment  I felt like they were accompanying me I’ve seen them gathered at the grave yard,   after a burial,    just standing around like guests Are you paying your respects ? I ask But the Ravens don’t answer me . I’ve had the privilege to see some beautiful artwork depicting the Raven creation story in prints and carving made by Kwakiutl artist Calvin Hunt at his Copper Maker gallery, in Fort Rupert BC.   Our Land | Our People | Living Tradition, The Kwakwaka'wakw Potlatch on the Nor...

  Flora Sweet Alyssum ~  Worth beyond beauty Azalea  ~ Temperance Balm of Gilead  ~ Cure    Relief Bay Tree  ~ Glory Bluebell  ~ Constancy Camomile  ~ Energy in adversity Cedar Leaf  ~ I live for thee Chickweed  ~ Rendezvous Chicory  ~. Frugality Coreopsis  ~ Always cheerful Crocus, Spring  ~ Youthful gladness Crocus, Saffron  ~ Mirth Day 19 Prompt: pick a flower or two (or a whole bouquet, if you like) from this online edition of Kate Greenaway’s  Language of Flowers . Now, write your own poem in which you muse on your selections’ names and meanings. If you’re so inclined, you could even do some outside research into your flowers, and incorporate facts that you learn into your work.

I went down to Tilbury Town looking for Poetry I heard she used to work at the fish factory But it had been awhile since she’d been seen I fancied myself a new age Don Quixote  My Rocinante an old Barracuda  with an ashtray (and a potato for gas cap) And that’s what got me in trouble They stopped us at the ferry dock You cannot board like that !  (they hadn’t noticed on the way over) You’ll have to find a gas cap And that was that I could not cross over the wine dark sea to continue my search for Poetry I’m in exile now in Tilbury Town  And Poetry is not around Sancho and I are parked at a garage where we    wait  until a new gas cap arrives Maybe Tuesday                                                         ~ to be continued                        ...

Skirting the Cape          ~ visiting the lighthouse (reading your poems Julia) It is still beautiful (all these years later) The rock is sun-warmed where we lounge propped up on elbows watching the waves crash below Ron is reciting behind his binoculars  Naming the familiar fishing boats by their colours as they cut through turbulent waters skirting the Cape  On Saturday we go to town in the life raft (to take me back) We    see some of those same folks at the dock And some stop and chat                                   …about firewood, gooseberries and foundation posts, And when you get home, you write a poem  about it (of course you do)                  a conversation,    [you] take home           like a bunch of flowers            ...

Springtime    steady on   full speed ahead  Wild strawberry    running on    running on springtime Mother nature sets her watch  by the angle of the sun Yesterday the blue muscari  Tomorrow the wild cherry My garden    telling me telling me    it’s springtime! Day 16 prompt: In “Ocean” Robinson Jeffers delivers an almost oracular, scriptural description of the sea not just as a geographical phenomenon, but a sort of being – old, wise, profound, and able to teach those who want to learn. Today, try writing a poem in which you describe something that cannot speak, and what it has taught or told you.