Mothers, daughters…International Womens’ Day 🧡

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Moon for Our Daughters       by Annie Finch

 

Moon that is linking our daughters’
Choices, and still more beginnings,
Threaded alive with our shadows,

These are our bodies’ own voices,
Powers of each of our bodies,
Threading, unbroken, begetting

Flowers from each of our bodies.
These are our spiraling borders
Carrying on your beginnings,

Chaining through shadows to daughters,
Moving beyond our beginnings,
Moon of our daughters, and mothers.

 

photo Rose Cook

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The chance of humming…Rumi

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A
man
standing on two logs in a river
might do all right floating with the current
while humming in the
now.

Though
if one log is tied to a camel,
who is also heading south along the bank – at the same pace –
all could still be well
with the
world

unless the camel
thinks he forgot something, and
abruptly turns upstream,
then

uh-oh.

Most minds
do not live in the present
and can stick to a reasonable plan; most minds abruptly turn
and undermine the

chance
of
humming.

 

~ Rumi
translation by Daniel Ladinsky
from Love Poems from God

 

 

photograph by Rose Cook

On Looking At The Beginning Of A Lifetime

On Looking At The Beginning Of A Lifetime

 

All night, a growing sound

which opens the door

to allow a body through.

 

The day you were born

a mist rose from the river.

Seven swans flew over the bridge

their wings sounding damp air.

 

How can I write for you?

My heart is rapt, listening

to your soft breath.

We are still coming to ground.

 

 

poem and photo Rose Cook

(poem from Taking Flight by Rose Cook, pub Oversteps Books 2009)

Thanks to Rebecca Gethin who has taken time to feature my new book ‘Hearth’

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Rose Cook is the latest poet to be featured here. Hearth is her newest collection, her fourth and like Notes from a Bright Field is published by the discerning Cultured Llama.

And the poems? Well, I don’t know what to say because they all give me goose pimples and it’s hard to be articulate about something that does that. Rose has a way of writing about personal experiences in a totally unsentimental way, while being characteristically frank. By employing simple but precise language each poem pierces your heart. She writes about motherhood, her son’s fall, her grief for the loss of her own mother presented through everyday actions like folding sheets, seasons, plants and wild creatures (in particular hares) and all are bound together by her distinctively observant eye, her compassion.

I think it’s her acceptance of life’s precariousness and what our bodies know about us that is a strong binding thread.

Read more on :

https://rebeccagethin.wordpress.com/2017/11/12/rose-cook-hearth/