sharing a poetic LIFELINE with the world

write-picI’m a poet with a particular point of view. In these next blog posts I’ll post poems on different subjects from my point of view. Each poem is an expression, through me, of inspiration or Spirit or emotion. What you see in this light is what you bring to the poem.

Home is where the heart is. Home is where you hang your hat. Whatever your definition of home is, I’d like to hear it. Here is one of mine. Like a snapshot, it’s more of a fleeting impression than a textbook definition.

My Town

Above the hum of machinery
the sound of cars rushing by
I can hear the birds
in defiance.

There are still bugs
despite all the disinfectants,
weed-killer, napalm.

Dogs roam free
in our neighborhood.
They come up to say hello
or bark their freedom
at their fellows behind fences.

There are more slugs every year
it seems like.
The rain brings them
in the morning, in the grass
a convention.

And the deer
not hunted here
in this unnatural setting
eat weeds next to the post office
four of them, a family portrait.
Frustrated hunters
with gun racks in their trucks
have to stop
as they cross the road.

© Anne Westlund

Photo by Chris Westlund

Photo by Chris Westlund

Come back on Friday, June 28th for Make Visible: Childhood

“Make visible what, without you, might perhaps never have been seen.”~Robert Bresson, French Film Director

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Comments on: "Make Visible: Home" (6)

  1. Very nice poem Ann… sweet photo too. 🙂

  2. Thank you, Sala!

  3. Dorthy O. Chan said:

    by Sister Joan Metzner, mmI believe there is Someone waiting for me, Waiting to say :” Welcome Home ! “Someone I have never seen, but whom I will recognize in the depths of my heart because He has lived there since the beginning of time.Someone who has never doubted my return,never failed to still my doubts about my return.I believe there is Someone who knows me so intimately,loves me so totally, that joy will spark spontaneouslywhen we reunite in the land of immortal Birth.Tears will be wiped away;Sadness and fear will disappear as mist when it meets the morning sun.This is whom I seek, seeks me.He has never left me alone.For He is Self of my self,Soul of my soul,Life of my very life.

  4. annewestlund said:

    Beautiful!

  5. Defining what is good art is really tough. We would have to establish what “good” means. I don’t think that’s very easy, if at all possible, so I will use good as in enjoyable. “Good” is often used as if the determination is objective. If it is, I haven’t heard a proper definition, especially in terms of art.

  6. Hey reading your poem, i memorize my old one that i wrote an year ago. even i use the term fences when i renovated my garden and i was so obsessed that one day i slept there only at night and my family was looking for me,I would love to share few lines,
    Not in the room, not in the house,
    ‘where have you been, oh my mine..!
    resting on the fences, in my garden,
    my wife was shouting, i was saying pardon..!!

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