From the Heart -- Dear Ancestor

                                      [Photo Source: Google online images – see photo for credit]
 

(14 NOV 2011 – This poem that I found on the internet spoke to a tender place in my Heart.  I have been researching my Family History since June 2009, and it has been a Journey filled with Tears and Joy as I follow the lives of my forebears and learn about some of their challenges and successes.  I feel honored to be a part of my Family and those that have passed before me laying the Path upon which I tread.    Dorothy Hazel Tarr)

DEAR ANCESTOR--

Your tombstone stands among the rest;
Neglected and alone.
The name and date are chiseled out
On polished, marbled stone.
It reaches out to all who care
It is too late to mourn.
You did not know that I exist
You died and I was born.
Yet each of us are cells of you
In flesh, in blood, in bone.
Our blood contracts and beats a pulse
Entirely not our own.
Dear Ancestor, the place you filled
One hundred years ago
Spreads out among the ones you left
Who would have loved you so.
I wonder if you lived and loved,
I wonder if you knew
That someday I would find this spot,
And come to visit you.

[- Author Unknown]

GRAM'S LARGE APRON PENNY

[PHOTO: Mary Elizabeth "Betty" Bennett Scott (born 1897 Missouri - died 1980 Oregon) holding my daughter Rebecca (born 1964) on the Higinbotham Farm in Central Point, Oregon, in August 1966.]

Submitted by: Dorothy Hazel Tarr. 

(I found this wonderful tribute on the Internet and it touched my Heart where memories of my BELOVED Maternal Gram live with her LOVING and gentle ways.  The picture of Gram that I carry in my Heart is one with her in her large apron penny that she always wore over her day dress.  When I 'helped' Gram, she would put one of her very large apron pennies on me, and roll up the waist to shorten it to fit me and use safety pins to hold it on my shoulders.  It was a REAL HONOR to wear one of her aprons!  When we wore those apron pennies, the world was a magical place!  In our apron pennies, we challenged yard chickens for their eggs, battled weeds when gardening, tussled with the dust mop when doing morning chores, dodged thorns when collecting fresh flowers for the farmhouse, and avoided spills-n-stains while doing kitchen duty.)

Grandma's Apron

When I used to visit Grandma.
I was very much impressed,
by her all-purpose apron,
and the power it possessed.
For Grandma, it was everyday
to choose one when she dressed.
The strings were tied and freshly washed,
and maybe even pressed.
The simple apron that it was,
you would never think about;
the things she used it for,
that made it look worn out.

She used it for a basket,
when she gathered up the eggs,
and flapped it as a weapon,
when hens pecked her feet and legs.
She used it to carry kindling
when she stoked the kitchen fire.
And to hold a load of laundry,
or to wipe the clothesline wire.
She used it for a hot pad,
to remove a steaming pan,
and when her brow was heated,
she used it for a fan.

It dried our childish tears,
when we'd scrape a knee and cry,

and made a hiding place
when the little ones were shy.
Farm produce took in season,
in the summer, spring and fall,
found its way into the kitchen
from Grandma's carry all.
When Grandma went to heaven,
God said she now could rest.
I'm sure the apron she chose that day,
was her Sunday best.

[~Author unknown]

REMINISCING A DISTANT DREAM

                                      [PHOTO SOURCE:  GOOGLE online images]

Submitted by:   Dorothy Hazel Tarr.

(I wrote this on 12 Sep 2011, a day just so full of thoughts about WHAT WAS, WHAT I HAVE NOW, and WHAT THERE COULD HAVE BEEN.  Now, who among you can say you have NEVER traveled down the PATH of — Could-a, Would-a, Should-a !)  [dht-2011

How innocent and hopeful my bosom –

Overflowing to Love's Waltz.

Rescued moments caught in Heart's Webb –

Blurred now by Time's Hand.

As the years drop away –

Just once more to savor Youth's Day.

Never more the flicker of Youth's pleasure –

Or taste of Youth's hopeful zeal.

Long past – Now –

Just Reminiscing a Distant Dream – AGAIN!

[dht-2011]

LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM

Submitted by: Dorothy Hazel Tarr 

(I wrote this on 12 Sep 2011 at my kitchen table, looking out at my backyard.  The day is overcast and gray, with a soft breeze, and a pleasant 72 degrees – such a perfect day for quiet reflections.)

OH, sweet dreams of youth --

Come lightly and ease Day's Tears --

As I slip into Nether's World --

Succumbing to well-traveled Dream's promises. 

Illusions of Love swirl about --

Seizing a Heart by deceit --

With promises pledged --

Of a faithful Heart. 

Fading echoes of endearment --

Mock Winter's shadows --

Smile's frequent visit to my lips --

Lost now -- Absent by misadventure. 

Only the sunrise and sunset --

Turn the pages of Life --

As one day meanders into next --

Whispers of Love's Young Dream – that never was.

[dht-2011]

[Photo Source: Google online images]

BY WHAT NAME

[PHOTO SOURCE: Google online images – fractal]

***************

 Submitted by: Dorothy Hazel Tarr.

(I wrote this, 6 Sep 2011, thinking about what I did Yesterday and what I need to address Today.  All the while, I know there will be 'left-overs' that will not be done Today, and will have to be done sometime in the Future.  I speculated upon what keeps me from completing all the things on my 'DO TODAY LIST'?  Is it --  the over whelming tasks, energy levels, health issues, emotional baggage, AND/OR fear that I won't have anything to do when the 'list' is done?  Chuckles!  -- There are ALWAYS things to do on the
'DO TODAY LIST' !!!  )

BY WHAT NAME

By what name the Past --

    be Yesterday

By what name the Present --

    be Today (Now)

By what name the Future --

    be Tomorrow

[dht-2011]

BY WHAT NAME -- TRUTH

*** BY WHAT NAME -- TRUTH ***

(On 30 Aug 2011 — Just thinking about the many perceptions that exist within my logic and Heart; then thinking about the many perceptions of others through Time and the Ages. What is absolute for one in a Time, can be known by a different name by another. "Truth" is but a myth transported by Time and borne on the 'wings' of Eternity.)  
[dht-2011]  


Truth — is as old as God —
His Twin identity
And will endure as long as He
A Co-Eternity —

And perish on the Day
Himself is borne away
From Mansion of the Universe
A lifeless Deity.
[~Emily Elizabeth Dickinson, #836]

"Yet, Truth and God exist on a different 'Plane',
Whence Time and Nature portent."
[~ dht-2011, DNA Cousin of Emily Elizabeth Dickinson]

(SPECIAL NOTE:  Emily Elizabeth Dickinson is my DNA Maternal Cousin)

World Within Words – Unraveled

(I wrote this tangle, 24 Aug 2011, while trying to order my thoughts and realizing there are so-o many mysteries in Life's vast Realm that can never be understood, from the hollow pledges of others to the strange 'ports of call in the waters along our Life's Journey'. One thing is constant, though, and that's the 'last port' is the same for all. [dht-2011])

*** World Within Words – Unraveled ***

Day's Mysteries an intricate knot,
Whence attempts to unravel,
Prevail ere unresolved eclipse,
Whence nag Troubled Heart,

Whether confidences of Others,
Shared kindnesses of Kindred Spirits,
Whether hollow pledge spoken,
Or pledge rendered as token,

We yet go forth our Ports of Call,
Whence the Herald's Call,
We know the Tune,
Whence Journey's End looms.
[dht-2011]

[PHOTO SOURCE: GOOGLE online images]

AUGUST'S CANTICLE

In 21 Aug 2011, I was thinking about the poem #1068 written by my DNA Maternal Cousin Emily Elizabeth Dickinson.  There are many documented versions of this poem, and I have posted one version here. 

Since discovering my Family connection to Emily (we share the same many Great Grandparents Moses Payne (1581-1643)  and  Mary Benison Payne (1585 – 1616)),   I have been reading her writings and about her life and times.

Below is a short 'reply' to the poem #1068, that I wrote as if it were to be part of a letter that I would send to Emily.  As I have been reading her writings, I find them affecting me in different ways, and frequently I feel that she is writing to me, for our lives are similar in so many ways.  Anyway, here is the 'reply' that I would include in my letter to her.

"As August cools, Haunting Dreams of wild imaginings burn as blue flames, Memories ripe, cannot Ferment fast enough for the intoxicant Day Dreamer."

[-dht-2011, DNA Cousin to Emily Elizabeth Dickinson]

AND, below is Emily's poem #1068

Further in Summer than the Birds
Pathetic from the Grass
A minor Nation celebrates
It's unobtrusive Mass

No Ordinance be seen
So gradual the Grace
A pensive Custom it becomes
Enlarging Loneliness.

Antiquest felt at Noon
When August is burning low
Arise this spectral Canticle
Repose to typify

Remit as yet no Grace
No Furrow on the Glow
Yet a Druidic Difference
Enhances Nature now

[-Emily Elizabeth Dickinson, Poem #1068]

---------------

When also thinking of August, one of my favorite songs comes to mind, "Scarborough Fair", a hauntingly beautiful ballad with powerful lyrics that are larger than a single voice, expressing a special message only the Heart hears.  [dht-2011]

Song History and Lyrics link

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scarborough_Fair_(ballad)

  

YouTube link

Scarborough Faire Canticle - Simon and Garfunkel {SONG and HYMN}

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SfqpAWPx6T4

[PHOTO SOURCE: Renaissance Fair 1975 California with my daughter and myself dressed "haute couture"]

MEMORIES OF THE HEART

(I wrote this, 11 Aug 2011, thinking of my Life's Journey as a course with a beginning, middle, and ending, with each port in the course full of joyful and sad memories that I hold close in my Heart, each port in the course holding its unique essence—the whole making up the phases and faces of my Life.)

*** MEMORIES OF THE HEART ***

MEMORIES laced with Joy and Love tease,
as if having a tendresse for my Heart.

A smile of remembrance countered,
a faint melancholia, not wholly concealed.

TOO SOON Spring's Essence
so lush with rainbow delights,
melds into Summer's threshold.

Fall's Bounty yields a Harvest resplendent
at Winter's Tranquil possession.

The course complete—now
only MEMORIES OF THE HEART.

[dht-2011]

---------------

[PHOTO SOURCE: GOOGLE online images]

[Photo Notes: CAN YOU FIND ... ?
Look closely at this photo to see if you can find
an elder male in Winter's shroud,
a grim reaper,
a young girl in Spring's delight,
a youth taking leisure,
5 shy Spring observers,
5 shy Winter observers,
a village,
some ships,
and two in a boat.]

LAVENDER SENTIMENTS

(On 11 Aug 2011, I wrote this thinking of all the special moments in my Life that I took for granted at the time of their reign; and now in the twilight of my Life at the last juncture, I look longingly at those passed moments WISHING I knew then what I know now. Perhaps if I make a WISH on a dandelion, the seeds would drift into another dimension where VISITS are permitted to Special Moments—even if only in Day Dreams.)

*** LAVENDER SENTIMENTS ***

While Sentiments against a Lavender sky reveal,

the meaning of enchantment commands my senses

with uncustomary frenzy.

As composure challenges the Dimensions of temptation,

strange depths affirm my Fey's Obsession.

Whether in the pale mist of morning,

the heat of Noon, or the cool of the Night,

Mystic Fey Voyagers find nuances in contented accord.

In a place out of time, a small sadness,

long buried surfaces in my Heart,

at knowing I would Never See these Moments again.

[dht-2011]

 [PHOTO SOURCE: GOOGLE online images]

WHERE DREAMERS WALK

(I wrote this, 10 Aug 2011, thinking of remembered days gone by and yet to come, where the DREAMS and hope of youth were full of sinew and vigor, enough to withstand the frailty of today, if I hold THEM close.)


*** WHERE DREAMERS WALK ***

 In the dark mist of night, my DREAMS are alive,
where sweet Promises of Love and Romance thrive.

 As a welcome visitor, I walk pathways of lore,
where once Life's Promises held treasures galore.

In the light of day, my DREAMS survive,
where day's bitter struggles threaten, yet revive.

 As Tomorrow draws near, I hold dear to my heart,
where once wistful reflections, delayed my start.

In the nostalgia of days bygone, my DREAMS mourn,
where hope's bounty deep, so spent on morn'.

As ever faith in Future's turn, I yearn for that missed,
where museful pondering, render potential's remiss.
[dht-2011]
 

[PHOTO SOURCE:  GOOGLE online images]

After the Storm – Come the Tears

(I wrote this, 10 Aug 2011, thinking of the many losses in our life—Loss of youth, health, money, safety, privilege, prestige, respect, honors, LOVE, spouses, children, and family -- as a special tribute to those in my circle who feel their loss so keenly.)


*** AFTER THE STORM – COME THE TEARS ***

The poetical world is as a lyrical preface to Life's SCRIPT,
where light illuminates the STAGE,
with a jewel-like iridescence,
flickering over the richly embroidered PLAY.

A sadness imbues the atmosphere
with a sense of time and space,
whispering of generations past and lost
and PREVIEWS of generations to come.

The PLAY rages in a tempest at Life's Zenith,
as the Storms of Life forge a Path,
leaving behind loss of Love and Hearth in their wake.

As of a sudden, the Storm passes
and the Tears fall as gentle rain upon the SET.
After the Storm – come the tears.

[dht-2011]

[PHOTO SOURCE: GOOGLE online images]

KINDRED SPIRITS – SPINNING A TALE

 (I wrote this, 7 Aug 2011, thinking of two little boys -- Grandsons of My Kindred Spirit.)


*** KINDRED SPIRITS – SPINNING A TALE ***

TWO KINDRED spirits Spinning a Top,
with all earnestness
of apprentices learning an Ancient and Mystical Art.

A World of Wonder and Delights, swirls around them
in a kaleidoscope of Adventure,
in a Magical place where ordinary Cares dare not venture.

As if in a shared Dream, yet apart,
secret Treasures are revealed on imaginations' edge,
where thoughts of the Future mix
with Today's Mercurial Delights.

[dht-2011]


[PHOTO SOURCE: GOOGLE online images]

A MERMAID'S TALE

(I wrote this, 6 Aug 2011, on the closing of a beautiful warm summer day, with cooling breezes softly caressing the tender leaves in my Dry World—no rain today!)


*** A MERMAID'S TALE ***

IF I were a Mermaid, I would sit on a coral perch
and tend my garden of waterweeds.

Perceptions of the Dry World above  -- Mute,
as the serene waters enclose me in my liquid cocoon.

My Cousins flashing silver among the coral,
as they dance a water ballet to the trumpeting music of seashells.

IF I were a Mermaid -- Safe and Happy
and Content in my Watery World.

[dht-2011]


[PHOTO SOURCE: GOOGLE online images]

Frolic and Tittering Waif-Flies

(I wrote this, 4 Aug 2011, as the close of a beautiful day drew neigh, thinking of all the butterflies in the garden that were done with their busy day, and were seeking their rest and maybe some storytelling with their neighbors -- purely fantasy of course.  ‎"... as falling leaves absent tree boughs ... "; this is a poet's way of saying leaves are falling. Takes a bit more thought and attention to "wordsmithing".  With that phrase, I FIRST wrote it in plain English -- "as the leaves fell off the tree branches". THEN, I wordsmith'd it so it would sound more FEY and OLD ENGLISH! (chuckles) Hope you liked it!  IT WAS FUN -- like doing SCRABBLE!   By the way, "WAIF-FLIES" is a name I made up, because I thought "butterflys" JUST DID NOT DO IT for the tale.)



*** FROLIC AND TITTERING WAIF-FLIES ***

There was a certain warm lavender peace
in the Dawn shadows,
from whence a Fey Dreamer watched unobserved,
as Waif-Flies frolicked
on soft breezes.

Time's gentle hands,  pause Future's Passage for the nonce,
while the Fey Dreamer eavesdrops
on Their discreet Titterings
in an Auburn Wonderland
enshrined in Autumn's embrace.

Reality's illusions drop away
as falling leaves absent tree boughs,
as secrets are revealed
to Whimsey's delight.

[dht-2011]

[PHOTO SOURCE: Google online images]

Just A Candle's Aura

(I wrote this, 15 Jul 2011, thinking about how bright Future's venue from my youth's portal.  The visions of hope from my girlhood, were tarnessed and faded by the reality of Life with all its challenges, disappointments, and distractions.  Now, in the winter years, the bright aura of my youth does not burn as blue a hue.)

There gathered a sense of sharp anticipation
as I stepped through Folly's Door,
to find Future's Embrace.

The brilliant Aura of Youth,
now harnessed by Life's Distractions
and Time's Passage -- fades
until No More.

The Ending of the Day,
has mellowed to a fine Hue,
the sharpness of a stormy Passage.

There a momentary madness
burning high in Youth's Abode,
Now extinguished in Elder Days
of unrealized Wishes, Hopes, and Dreams.

The moment –
Nothing more remains --
Just A Candle's Aura!

[dht-2011]

[PHOTO SOURCE: GOOGLE online images]

WHERE ONLY SHADOWS DANCE

(I wrote this, 13 Jul 2011, in a gray frame of mind, all too frequently occurring.  The "good times" in my life so far removed and their memory fading, seemed to go by too quickly.  Only now as I re-play those favorites,  do I feel I was not prepared to savor the precious few bright and clear moments. With misty eyes and wet checks, I try to recall happier times, despairing at the barriers that the 'bad times" cloud with melancholy.  SPECIAL NOTE --  My own writing offerings, I call " The Unrhyme Prose Poem Style". It is often serious, whimsical, thoughtful, fanciful, full of shadows and light, and of course Nature (birdies, flowers, and such). 

"Which of us, in his ambitious moments, has not dreamed of the miracle of a poetic prose, musical, without rhyme and without rhythm, supple enough and rugged enough to adapt itself to the lyrical impulses of the soul, the undulations of the psyche, the prickings of consciousness?”
[~ Little Poems in Prose, Charles Baudelaire])


The days at times are shrouded 
in unremitting shades of gray.

Dark shadows obscure
the corners of my life.

MELANCHOLY is as a shroud
that allows only gray scales of color –
NEVER the rainbow
rues of LOVE, JOY, HOPE, BELONGING...

The edges of memories blur –
their shape and texture mute –
with a blink of the mind's eye –
they recede.

How strange it seems
they happened Just As Quick
in their Time.

Now replaying those moments
over-and-over,
thoughts drift through Barriers
 NOT even Time's Gate Keeper can Deny.

The vast darkness
 so dense at times, 
the light cannot invade the Expanse
WHERE ONLY SHADOWS DANCE!

[~dht-2011]


[PHOTO SOURCE:  GOOGLE online images]

JUST DAY DREAMING

The skyline is a Mocking reflection
of my Day Dreamer's Passage.

My thoughts wander
chasing butterflies
in the Garden of my mind.

Graceful waves of ferns
emote a welcome greeting
on my Sojourn.

Glimmers of blue and green
sparkle at the edges of my Dream
off the cool waters
catching the sunlight.

My Day Dreamer's thoughts
feather to nothing,
burdens of the day,
easing the Signs of worry
from my brow.

A brilliant smile lit from within,
hints of the whimsical fancies
that dance to a tune
only this Day Dreamer hears.

Mysterious thoughts
challenge and inspire
and excite my Day Dreamer's Nature.

Lack of coherent order
releases the Bonds
that shroud the Boundary
of my senses.

Reflections of a secret romantic,
flicker as patterns of mist and fog,
smoke and shadow,
sun and moonbeams,
and fall across
my Day Dreamer's imaginary Landscape.

Warmth, laughter, and LOVE --
all welcome ingredients
for Today's Illusions
and Tomorrows Hopes.

And, the polly wogs in the Pond
all turn into Princes,
as the Day Dreamer's interludes
slip by-the-by.

The drab sparrow drops its cloak,
revealing beneath its brightly feathered finery
in a Peacock's plumage; 
But, Beware
the hidden heart of a Hawk!

A profusion of flowers
array in drooping sleepy splendor
along the Day Dreamer's Path.

Candle flames dance merrily
into the evensong of the Sunset.

Flickers of moonlight
beckon the Day Dreamer
to witness its play
on the garden Steps.

Overhead the stars in the night lit heavens,
shine as celestial beacons,
softly guiding this Nocturnal Traveler.

Whispers of a soft summer evening
drift on a gentle breeze,
ruffling the rhythms of my Flight.

Such are the Meanderings of my mind.

I am – A DAY DREAMING TRAVELER!

[~dht-2011]

***************

(Just being and writing on 11 Jul 2011, for some days are just easy and made for lazy-ing around and JUST DAY DREAMING about your Life, Yesterday, Today, and pondering Tomorrow!   My life is a river that flows, I know not where, With eddies for reflecting, and swift currents gone too quick, Past the 'Shores' of my life. Yesterday's youthful dreams, Today's hopeful goals, Float on the water without anchor, Toward Tomorrow's Destiny.) [~dht-2011]


[PHOTO SOURCE: GOOGLE online images]

Everyday Words - Everyday Thoughts

Your thoughts don't have words every day
They come a single time

Like signal esoteric sips
Of the communion Wine

Which while you taste so native seems
So easy so to be

You cannot comprehend its price
Nor its infrequency

[~ Emily Elizabeth Dickinson, Poem #1452]

***************
DEF: "esoteric" Adjective: Intended for or likely to be understood by only a small number of people with a specialized knowledge or interest.

***************

In this poem, my Maternal Cousin EMILY Elizabeth Dickinson (10 Dec 1830 - 15 May 1886), says to ME that there are NOT words enough to describe every feeling and emotion that float through my mind every day. Moreover, that the meaning of some thoughts is confusing to some who do not know my circumstance or me. In addition, some 'words' when said or written have a 'price' that is a toll paid by the author for their effect on the emotions and attitude of self and others.

EMILY did not follow the typical path of a woman of her time for she never married. She lived a solitary life in her parent's home taking care of the household and her parents during their lifetime and illness and after their deaths living alone in the homestead in Amherst, Massachusetts. She spent many hours in conjugating the mental processes and writing down some of her feelings and thoughts about her life, nature, faith, love, death, and other topics. In over 1700 poems and writings, that are known about, she recorded on paper by hand (no computers or MSWord) her thoughts in 'words'. Today she is considered a genius with the use of words, and there are college course, books, museums, and historical societies that are dedicated to reading her 'words' and analyzing each punctuation, phrase, topic, and nuance.

For myself, I believe EMILY'S 'words' and her poetry and writings can be best enjoyed when applied to my own life and experiences. In this way, I am internalizing her whispered words that murmur to my heart and that put a 'period' to my feelings and thoughts. Sometimes, I find that by reading something she has written, I am better able to gain clarity on a point in my life. Clarity helps remove the confusion and shadows that intrude and hinder the 'walk of life'. There are enough 'boulders' and 'rough seas' that make the journey difficult!

I am reminded of a time that a DEAR FRIEND helped me to reach clarity at a time, a couple of years ago, when I was baffled and confused. My friend listened to me describe my status and said that it sounded like I was experiencing DEEP GRIEF. This was a welcome realization and helped me put into perspective the many confusing feelings and thoughts that floated through my mind and heart and fell softly on to my wet cheeks. Grief is a personal process that no 'words' can explain, but 'words' in a Poem, a Prayer, or from a DEAR FRIEND can help the healing process through the solitary feelings from loss of loved ones.

[~ DOROTHY HAZEL TARR, dht-2011]


[PHOTO SOURCE; GOOGLE online images]

DANCING DANDELIONS

(As I was walking, 6 Jul 2011, on the 'Beaver Pond Walk' in the Senior Community where I live, there was the softest breeze that teased the wild grasses and and swayed the blooms of the yellow Dandelions that bordered the walking trail. It was a magical moment that I enjoyed and captured in several photos.  I could almost hear the 'Waltz' in the air that the blooms were dancing to.)

Yellow Dandelions border the trail,
their blossoms dancing merrily
to a tune only Nature plays. 

Suddenly Day's Passage changes the blooms
to white seeded spheres. 

Be QUICK to make a WISH
and use your BREATH
as the feathery seeds fill the air. 

Watch in wonder
as the seeds take flight
and drift far and wide
on a summer breeze.

[~dht-2011]

***************
A few WEB SITES for DANDELION info:
http://www.wildmanstevebrill.com/Plants.Folder/Dandelion.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taraxacum
http://nccam.nih.gov/health/dandelion/



***************

               [PHOTO SOURCE:  My photo, My Camera, 2011 on 'Beaver Pond Walk']

[AND, here is a short video of the DANCING DANDELIONS

 that I took with my camera on this walk. ~ dht-2011]