Beth Camp's Blog, page 7

NaPoWriMo April 26: Do Not Go Gently . . .

I never expected to be here,poised at the beginning of my ninth decade,somehow surviving all that came before.I am not ready to rage at darknessor the end of days. I would rather take your hand, to walk along a woodland trail,knowing this simple act connectsus all, the round of seasonsblending past with nowand what will come.Image by Vincenzo Modica from PixabayToday's poetry challenge from David

NaPoWriMo April 25: When do dreams . . .

When do dreams begin? Even at night, fantasy or nightmare,somehow a dream brings the possibilityof change, not always welcome,that line of needy ghosts or vampiresthat tap and tap at the door,at the window, wanting in.All we can do as childrenis to run crying down the hall,sometimes to be held in that darkest night.I wait for dreams to come,now dressed in memories of purest blue sky,an elephant

NaPoWriMo April 24: On Puzzles . . .

Pick up another piece: How does it fitinto the picture we're so slowlyassembling? Or where?Colors, shapes, images -- all a mystery,rather like life. Today, chaos.Maybe tomorrow, harmony,the pleasure of finishing just one small thing.Then, the sheer delightof tearing those pieces apart, putting them away in their proper box, just so.Would that life were so tidy.Image by Hans from PixabayJust

NaPoWriMo April 23: On gardens . . .

In these first few weeks before Springreally begins, I feel drawn to the garden,any garden will do. Actually, I don't have a garden.I walk past houses, their gardens hidden,maybe a stone path leads around that house;first flowers decorate the front lawn,daffodils in a neat row, hyacinths,white and purple, edging up from mulch.My friend likes to spend time in her garden,surrounded by the scent of

NaPoWriMo April 22: Painting Dreams

Now she wants llamas,penguins and dragonsto decorate her walls. I can paint these for her, now that she is at the edge of becoming herself.She wants the biggest blue sky,a mountain in the background,unfettered tomorrows.I wonder what walls she will paintone day, what mountains she will see,what dragons she will tame.For now, I nod and smile.I can give her this today.Image by Stefan Keller from

NaPoWriMo April 21: Spring is coming . . .

In the park, the wind tearsanother wound in spring, colderrain saws at my hopeas willows lean and bow,their buds barely formed.Just another week or two,we tell each other.Spring is coming.Spring in Manito ParkToday's poetry prompt comes from David Brewer, of Writer's Digest fame, who kindly challenges us to write a poem of only 6 words OR using all 6 words. The 6 words are: bow, lean, park, saw,

WEP & NaPoWriMo April 19: Life Is Beautiful . . .

When I was a kid, I remember hidingand running away, dark nightswhen I woke alone, or the house wasfilled with people talking and laughing and drinking,and in the morning, ashtrays to clean,bottles to throw away. I learned to stay absolutely quiet,to fear a slap or blow.Then, my mother was beaten,her eyes so swollen she could not see.We moved.And moved again. And again.When my stepfather broke

NaPoWriMo April 17: Safari memories . . .

Safari in Tanzania, Africa, just two weeks, perhapsnot enough time to know this land, this culture, these people.But we went. Our tour took us by jeep over rocky roads to unexpected vistas:a mama lion tending her cub by water's edge,a Cape buffalo staring at us, trying to figure out:were we friend or foe?A herd of thousands of wildebeest trekking north, crossing the river,jumping over the

NaPoWriMo April 16: A Penguin's Path

I've seen penguins before. They're cute.They waddle and dive into the water as ifthey could find a fish or two in this little pond at the zoo.Once, on a trip around the Horn, we stopped at Punta Tombo,to see the penguins who lived there.Uncaring of humans, they carried onas if we were invisible. Signs told us to: Stay on the Path! Those penguins couldn't read. Deep in moulting season,with

NaPoWriMo April 15: The Gift of Gardens

Each spring, the cherry trees bloomaround the pond at Manito Park; such a pleasure simply to walk alongthese carefully tended paths, seeing anewwhat the turn of seasons brings:even the birds seem quiet here,golden carp swim in peace,stone statues await the change of light,tall pines rise to the spring sky,and I'll sit in one of the carefully placed gazebos,each corner inviting repose,or I'll