cronechronicler

You don't know where you are going. You don't know how to get there. And you arrive just the same. Ghanaian saying

Haiku: Fall House Cleaning

Muse has been drowsing
Beneath life’s daily matters
Awakening now

Cleansing rain falling
Breezes create refreshment
Words begin to stir

Family heart work
Enters time of fruition
Now space for my soul

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Haiku: Writer’s Block

Morning clouds depress
Inspiration happy thoughts
Sun comes out hurrah

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Haiku: Exploring Everyday Life

For five years or so
I sought and found poetry
Alive all around

Once fertile places
Barren of inspiration
Poetic muse fled

World news tells stories
Unjust uses of power
Death and climate change

Writing unconquered
More essential than ever
Has stories to tell

My bailiwick calls
Ordinary life a poem
Alive within self

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New Math

My life no longer balances
Clutter on my calendar
Stifles what I care about
Time to sort the mess

Addition equals frittering
Subtraction brings tranquility
Peace and beauty come with space
I can do the math

Give me the moon in a darkened sky
Sunbeam silhouettes on my wall
Raindrops’ gleam on windowpane
Leaves attune to season’s change

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Clearing Fog

Clear darkness of the sky
Last night a quarter moon
Summer creatures sing a serenade

At dawn a fog rolls in
Only light the yellow beam
Shining from the hardware store

Blue water of the swimming pool
Now obscured for winter months
By tarpaulin just as blue

I welcome the change
Summer a hard and anxious time
Fear for health of son’s beloved wife

With now the worst behind
As a family they move on
Life reshaped but ever closer drawn

I return to simpler ways
Where poetry lives in daily life
And remains my nourishment

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Challenging Time

When first I began posting crone chronicles
Enriched by Word Press 101 prompts
I sat at my computer catching ready-made stories
Tumbling from a lifetime of rich memories
Lovely to go back and re-member the past

Seems as if now life around me is changing
Much new is good, much more terrifying
Past seems an irrelevant line drawn in the sand
The who I was then needs refurbishment
What I live and write now creates  past for my future

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Requiem

Exploring the poetry of everyday life
More easily said than done these days
Time to reset and center myself
Face facts that changes warping the world
Seem to be settling in for a long haul

Poetry is not dead Heaven forbid
This lifeblood of humans flows deep in our veins
Hidden beneath horrors spewed out in the news
Goodness and glory in shapes still unseen
Kindness and God’s grace yet will prevail

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Adjustments

My blog announces I’ll explore
The poetry of every day
Newly I have found alas
My everyday has changed

First I blamed my muse
Lazy creature distant
Unavailable to inspire
Or to awaken me

The tree outside my window
And the view
Clouds in dawning sky
Tell me no tales

Family life is bubbling
A stew of new developments
Demands attention
And my energy

Changes unpoetical I think
Call for language spoken best in prose
Stories full of life and real
Ah, my muse awaits me just off stage

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Enscribing the Heavens from This side

My son Donovan chose these words as the title of a book containing the first two years of my Cronechronicler posts that he collected and had published in 2016. The poet David Whyte used them in his poem Journey in his book The House of Belonging. Whyte writes that “sometimes it takes a great sky to find that small, bright and indescribable wedge of freedom in your own heart”.

For two years more I have searched that sky and found inspiration in the poetry of everyday life. I have found freedom to trust my muse and the words that come to me as I look at the colors of the dawn clouds or enjoy watching a squirrel couple build its nest. I hope in time to collect my Haiku and create another book. For interested readers my original book can be found at https://www.amazon.com/Enscribing-Heavens-This-Side-cronechronicler/dp/1530407133.

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Haiku: RX For An Introvert

Holidays over
Return of reality
Time for stock-taking

People-filled moments
Exciting rich nourishment
Stuffed me to bursting

Moorings abandoned
Flying carpet crash-landed
Lost touch with myself

Crave balm of silence
Time for quiet introspection
Awaiting my words

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