May 8, 2011 In inspiration, intelligence, poetry, words and language By Patricia Saxton

Celebrating Mom

Carolyn Naught Saxton / 1920 - 1980

When I was a little girl, my mother was “my world”.

She did all the things you’d expect a Mom might do, like hold your hand, read you a story, fix meals, teach manners, dry tears, cheer you up and on.

As I grew, I saw that she loved to give. And that she loved to laugh. She loved people and loved life, and tried to worry only on Tuesdays.

Lucky for us, she also happened to be an accomplished poet. Her works appeared in anthologies as early as her teens, and her last, perhaps greatest work, was the collection of sonnets published in her book The Pine and The Power.

My mother left the world much, much too soon ~ but she left gifts. Treasured, timeless words; gifts from the heart, mind and spirit.

So on this day reserved for mothers, I’d like to share some of those words. I share them, as I did last year, in honor and life-giving celebration of mothers near and far, here or remembered. Happy Mother’s Day!

…………………………..

God help our children to transcend the dark

And walk the earth with dignity and cheer;

God help them seek the mountains, persevere

The road that twists through thorn and tanglebark,

Ascending finally where eagles mark

Their point of vision. Help our children find

Two masters ~ one the spirit, one the mind ~

And rediscover constancy of heart.

Help us to find cathedrals in the skies,

A will to walk the long uncharted mile;

(The will to find in winter’s legacy

The ochre sands from which the lime trees rise!)

Help us to know the measure of the child ~

To live in time and in eternity.

© Carolyn Naught Saxton

…………………………..


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April 11, 2011 In appreciation, art, communication, design, inspiration By Patricia Saxton

A Plethora of P's / #16: "Poetry"

proactively punctuating life with the plausible, powerful possibilities of positive thought presented through a plethora of “P’s”.

– ♥ –

Whitman, Yeats, Kipling, Dickinson, Angelou, Gibran, Frost, Sandberg, Tolstoy, Cummings, Wilde, Shelley, Rumi, Shakespeare, Wordsworth….

When I hear these names, eloquence comes to mind.

Eloquence, combined with deep understandings of nature, love, and the human condition; poets have a profound ability to both explain and move our hearts.

Granted, I may be biased towards poetry. I’m a poet’s daughter, spoon-fed the deliciousness of words. From an early age I came to appreciate the beauty ~ and the power ~ of language.

So, bias aside, I realize that not everyone appreciates poetry. But I do think that everyone who does, experiences an expansion of heart and mind. Good poetry is arresting. It’s elevating. Some even say intoxicating. Like being dipped inside a rose, the senses enveloped.

It’s also demanding. It requires your attention. Using only words, poetry engages first the mind, then cuts through to the heart.

And though wrapped in prose, it’s probably the most directly communicative of the arts. In its purity, perhaps the most artistically vulnerable. No visual props, no chords to set a tone. A play of words forming emotional shapes, it’s a meeting of pen, mind and spirit; music and painting put to words.

Poetry has many faces, runs the gamut from simple to complex, lyrical to abrupt. Like song, it’s often a matter of taste. But it’s worth a savoring, magical, thought-provoking, reverent taste now and then. It’s the language of love. It’s the language of life, of loss, of longing and lifting up. It nourishes the mind; it’s a tonic for the soul.

A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul. ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

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December 27, 2010 In poetry, words and language By Patricia Saxton

"Snow Day"

 

“Snow Day” by Billy Collins
Today we woke up to a revolution of snow,
its white flag waving over everything,
the landscape vanished,
not a single mouse to punctuate the blankness,
and beyond these windows 

the government buildings smothered,
schools and libraries buried, the post office lost
under the noiseless drift,
the paths of trains softly blocked,
the world fallen under this falling.

In a while I will put on some boots
and step out like someone walking in water,
and the dog will porpoise through the drifts,
and I will shake a laden branch,
sending a cold shower down on us both.

But for now I am a willing prisoner in this house,
a sympathizer with the anarchic cause of snow.
I will make a pot of tea
and listen to the plastic radio on the counter,
as glad as anyone to hear the news

that the Kiddie Corner School is closed,
the Ding-Dong School, closed,
the All Aboard Children’s School, closed,
the Hi-Ho Nursery School, closed,
along with — some will be delighted to hear —

the Toadstool School, the Little School,
Little Sparrows Nursery School,
Little Stars Pre-School, Peas-and-Carrots Day School,
the Tom Thumb Child Center, all closed,
and — clap your hands — the Peanuts Play School.

So this is where the children hide all day,
These are the nests where they letter and draw,
where they put on their bright miniature jackets,
all darting and climbing and sliding,
all but the few girls whispering by the fence.

And now I am listening hard
in the grandiose silence of the snow,
trying to hear what those three girls are plotting,
what riot is afoot,
which small queen is about to be brought down.

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May 8, 2010 In inspiration, intelligence, words and language By Patricia Saxton

Honoring Mother, Celebrating Life

Carolyn Naught Saxton, circa 1940's

On this day reserved for mothers. I thought I’d share some words from my own mother.

My mother was, of course, “my world” when I was little, and a role model as I grew. She did all the things you’d expect a Mom might do, like fix meals, teach manners, dry tears, cheer you up and on. She was always there for her family, She was involved in her community. She loved to laugh. She loved to give. She loved life and tried to worry only on Tuesdays. (or was it Wednesdays?)

Like many mothers, she was an unsung hero.

But she was also a poet. Her works first appeared in anthologies as early as her teens. Later, perhaps her greatest work, was the collection of sonnets published in her book titled The Pine and The Power.

My mother left the world much too soon ~ nearly 30 years ago ~ but she left gifts behind. Treasured, timeless words; gifts from the heart, mind and spirit.

It was hard to choose just one selection ~ but I share this in honor and life-giving celebration of mothers near and far, here or remembered.

Happy Mother’s Day!

♦

…………………………..


God help our children to transcend the dark

And walk the earth with dignity and cheer;

God help them seek the mountains, persevere

The road that twists through thorn and tanglebark,

Ascending finally where eagles mark

Their point of vision. Help our children find

Two masters ~ one the spirit, one the mind ~

And rediscover constancy of heart.

Help us to find cathedrals in the skies,

A will to walk the long uncharted mile;

(The will to find in winter’s legacy

The ochre sands from which the lime trees rise!)

Help us to know the measure of the child ~

To live in time and in eternity.

© Carolyn Naught Saxton

…………………………..

♦

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