After the War (from Poems for Hungry Minds)

   A Ukrainian serviceman walked amid the rubble of a building heavily damaged by multiple Russian bombardments
near a frontline in Kharkiv, Ukraine (Photo by Felipe Dana/Associated Press)

     

The world watches, the free world hopes for Ukraine's freedom from struggle against its oppressor.  The following poem is one of my contributions to the new anthology, Poems for Hungry Minds. - CK

After the War

The time will come when we will be able to sleep,

but it will be after the war, after the victory.

                                 – Ukraine President Voldymyr Zelenskyy

  

When things get quiet again,

we will take a walk.

We’ll find a street

like that one off Weldon’s Circle,

with the coffee shop

next to the record store

where we first heard Tuxedo Junction

sung by The Manhattan Transfer.

Surely, there will be a street

like that one again.

 

We will remember a time

when the pieces fit –

when we could imagine

building a home of our own.

 

I took those years for granted

until they stretched into a decade

of dull routine –

the everyday greyness

of riding to work,

shopping for groceries,

watching the Nightly News.

 

We could numb ourselves

to rumors of war

until the missile strikes lit the night.

Crumbled concrete cascaded

from buildings to sidewalk

and into the streets.

Roadways crowded

with newly awakened refugees –

homebodies turned migrants.

 

Twisted bridges

bombed out buildings

neighborhoods in rubble –

we had seen it before on the Nightly News,

always in some distant land

until the war machine shattered our lives.

 

Baldwin Street! That was it –

The one off Weldon’s Circle.

The one with the record store.

We’ll find it again

after the war.

 

                       ~ Charles Kinnaird

  

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Poems for Hungry Minds, by the Highland Avenue Poets, is available on Amazon and at Barnes and Nobel.

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Monday Music: Georgia on My Mind (Billie Holliday)

Billie Holliday's 1941 recording of the song by Hoagy Carmichael (music) and Stuart Gorrell (lyrics). Of all the recordings I have heard of this song, I think her phrasing of the lyrics is the best.

 

From the YouTube notes:

"Georgia on My Mind" is a song written in 1930 by Hoagy Carmichael (music) and Stuart Gorrell (lyrics). It is the official state song of the U.S. state of Georgia. Gorrell wrote the lyrics for Hoagy's sister, Georgia Carmichael. However, the lyrics of the song are ambiguous enough to refer either to the state or to a woman named "Georgia". Carmichael's 1965 autobiography, Sometimes I Wonder, records the origin: a friend, saxophonist and bandleader Frankie Trumbauer, suggested: "Why don't you write a song called 'Georgia?' Nobody lost much writing about the South." Thus, the song is universally believed to have been written about the state. 

The song was first recorded on September 15, 1930 in New York by Hoagy Carmichael and His Orchestra with Bix Beiderbecke on muted cornet and Hoagy Carmichael on vocals. The recording was part of Bix Beiderbecke's last recording session. The recording was released as Victor 23013 with "One Night in Havana". Billie's accompanied by Shad Collins tp; Leslie Johnakins, Eddie Barefield as; Lester Young ts; Eddie Heywood p; John Collins g; Ted Sturgis b; Kenny Clarke ds. Recorded in New York City, March 21, 1941. (OKeh Records)

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Saturday Haiku: A Birder's Haiku

             

       my autumn bird friends
bring comfort when I see them –
they've been here all year

___________________

Photos by Charles Kinnaird

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"The Shooter" A Poem for Another Day of Mourning

Mourners hold candles during a vigil at a makeshift memorial to mark

the weekend mass shooting at a gay bar, late Monday, Nov. 21, 2022,

in Colorado Springs, Colo. (AP Photo/David Zalubowski)

The litany of shootings continues. We've had school shootings like the one in Uvalde, Texas, a church shooting in Vestavia Hills, Alabama, and yesterday, another club shooting. I woke up way too early this morning and wrote another poem.

The Shooter

 

There is a shooter among us.

He steps in unexpectedly

to disrupt our equilibrium.

We create safe places

for ourselves –

        schools

        churches

        community bars.

We make a circle of belonging

where we can find the security

to be ourselves.

 

Then comes the shooter.

What discord does he bring?

(It's always a "he" isn't it?)

Why is he so off-kilter

that he cannot tolerate

someone else's circle of belonging?

Can he not recognize the sacredness

of a safe place

        to learn

        to pray

        to play

        to celebrate ourselves?

 

For the sake of the fallen,

For the sake of humanity,

For the sake of our longing for safe places,

We will never stop offering

our circles of belonging,

even if that circle (for now)

is the best place to weep.

                           

                            ~ Charles Kinnaird

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Monday Music: Georgia on My Mind (The Peter Frampton Band)

The legendary Peter Frampton bends the strings on his wailin' blues guitar with this Hoagy Carmichael classic.

 

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Saturday Haiku: Taking Flight

 

the sound of bird wings
sifting through the morning air
inspires like a song

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Photo Credit: Rich Keen / DPRA (courtesy of flickr)
A flock of birds takes off one morning at Rocky Mountain Arsenal National Wildlife Refuge.

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Lines Composed on a Birthday

I keep forgetting that I wrote this. It was about six years ago when someone on Facebook suggested I write a few lines on my birthday. At the time I called it "a first draft stream-of-consciousness let-the-words-fall-into-place attempt." It was composed on Facebook, and for a while, it only existed on Facebook. I am re-posting it on my blog today as I make one more complete circle around the sun.

  

Birthday Lines

Years are passing
Sights are fleeting
Thoughts are bleating
In the meadow.

Days are ending
Someone calling
Night is falling
In the glen.

Forward looking
Sometimes seeming
Like the dreaming
Of a lark.

Looking back
Across the lake
The foaming wake
Disperses soon

In the moment
Breathing deeply
Nothing cheaply
Enters in

Moving forward
Careful choosing
No sense losing
In the flood

In the circle
All is counted
Faith comes mounted
On a steed

Quiet times
Though days are numbered
Unencumbered
Spring rolls in

Finding grace
When time is swirling
Love’s unfurling
Fills the day.

                       ~ CK

 

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Photo: Shades Creek, Birmingham, Ala.
Credit: Charles Kinnaird



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"Defiance" A New Poem from Poems for Hungry Minds

"Poetry slows the urgent world and grants a focus on life within it. The discipline practiced by these authors has occasioned a kind of communal joy - poems that reflect a community of compassion for the world."

My friend, Tom Gordon, reads one of his poems from our new anthology, Poems for Hungry Minds, by the Highland Avenue Poets.

    Sometimes, I have something to say, and poetry is a way for me to say it.

                                                                                                        – Tom Gordon

 

"Poetry slows the urgent world and grants a focus on life within it. The discipline practiced by these authors has occasioned a kind of communal joy - poems that reflect a community of compassion for the world."

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Monday Music: Political World (Bob Dylan)

 

 

Political World

by Bob Dylan 

We live in a political world
Where love don't have any place
We're living in times where men commit crimes
And crime don't have a face

We live in a political world
Icicles hangin' down
Wedding bells ring and angels sing
And clouds cover up the ground

We live in a political world
Wisdom is thrown into jail
It rots in a cell misguided as hell
Leaving no one to pick up the trail

We live in a political world
Where mercy walks the plank
Life is in mirrors, death disappears
Up the steps into the nearest bank

We live in a political world
Courage is a thing of the past
The houses are haunted, children aren't wanted
Your next day could be your last

We live in a political world
The one we can see and feel
But there's no one to check, it's all a stacked deck
We all know for sure that it's real

We live in a political world
The cities are a lonesome fear
Little by little, you turn in the middle
But you're never sure why you're here

We live in a political world
Under the microscope
You could travel anywhere and hang yourself there
You've always got more than enough rope

We live in a political world
Turning and a-thrashing about
As soon as you're awake, you're trained to take
What looks like the easy way out

We live in a political world
Where peace is not welcome at all
It's turned away from the door to wander some more
Or put up against the wall

We live in a political world
Every thing's hers and his
Climb into the flame and shout God's name
But you're not even sure what it is

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Saturday Haiku: Indian Summer

 

a season extends
as cold winds are delayed 
and butterflies dance

________________

Photo by Charles Kinnaird

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We Have a Republic, Ya'll

U.S. Capitol Building at sunrise (Shutterstock photo)

In the political world, it looks like we're stuck with each other. If you grew up with siblings like I did, there were probably those times when your mama said, "Yall are just going to have to work it out – don’t keep running to me!"

The day after Election Day, even as votes were still being counted, it was clear that there was no “red wave,” just as there was no “blue wave” in 2020. No party is going to sweep the board and make things right, nor will they burn the place down. At least for now, we see that public sentiment is not to have things go to either extreme. I was surprised to hear one of my work colleagues say, "I just voted for every Libertarian I saw on the ballot – I'm fed up with all those folks!"

The voters appear to be saying, "Ya'll are just gonna to have to work things out and get some things done for the country."

Most of the extreme Trumper candidates lost on election night, which gives me hope that Trump might start to fade away without the political turmoil of an indictment or a second Jan 6. Democrats will likely lose the house, but not by much. There was no clean sweep on anyone's part.

As distasteful as it may seem, we’re just gonna have to work together, ya'll. The bigger picture may be that we are living in a pivotal time and trying to make life work using outmoded systems, but for now, we can only do the best we can.

Rest well, Democrats, you held the course on an even keel. Be glad, Republicans, you live in a democracy where every voice counts. To paraphrase Benjamin Franklin, we have a republic – if we can keep it.

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Highland Avenue Poets Release Second Anthology

“Highland Avenue Poets offer a world bursting with loves and losses, boats and baseball, and shining remnants of truth and beauty. In this anthology, nine Southern poets capture in verse their personal experiences and wisdom.”

I am very proud to be a part of this group of writers. We call ourselves the Highland Avenue Poets. Our second anthology of poetry, Poems for Hungry Minds, is now available on Amazon and at Barnes and Nobel.

Our first anthology, The Social Distance, was in response to the COVID pandemic which sent us from meeting in person to workshopping by Zoom.  Our new anthology speaks to a broad range of topics and life events from nature to family and personal connections, from community engagement to wartime, from early life stages to final goodbyes. 

From the Preface:

This anthology gathers the voices, wisdom, community, fellowship, and longing for a better world through awareness, deep examination, and the joy of poetry. The HIGHLAND AVENUE POETS are a long-standing community of southern poets meeting monthly to workshop, edit and collectively refine their work.

Poetry slows the urgent world and grants a focus on life within it. The discipline practiced by these authors has occasioned a kind of communal joy - poems that reflect a community of compassion for the world.

You are invited within.

Why We Write 

The Highland Avenue Poets share some thoughts on why they write poetry:

Poetry chooses each of us; the only question is how we choose to express it. Poetry connects me to this world through a song of honesty, joy, pain and appreciation that resonates and reverberates – because I need to sing it as much as I hope there are ears open to hearing it.

                                                                                                      – Mel Campbell

I write poems because they are not as long as novels or even short stories, but even so, allow the writer to share his perceptions of life.

                                                                                                      – Jim Ferguson

Sometimes, I have something to say, and poetry is a way for me to say it.

                                                                                                    – Tom Gordon

My writing of poetry through the years has been like a spiritual journal, tracking my thoughts and responses to loves, losses, friendships, politics, and life events.

                                                                                                   – Charles Kinnaird

Only metaphor gave Noah a place to land.

                                                                                                  – Shannon Webster

To release the power of imagery and idea from words

                                                                                                  – Steve Coleman

I write poetry to reconnect to myself, to decipher and unravel the conflicting voices in my head, to broaden and grow my self-awareness and my appreciation of life, to engage and love my family and friends, to nurture a poetry family and community, and to develop my spiritual vision. Full seeing seems to take most of our lifetime.

                                                                                                 – Roger Carlisle

I love the discipline of pushing words around in an effort to line them up to make lovely sounds and to express a thought in a succinct manner. 

                                                                                               – Chervis Isom

I’m not much for dancing, and it’s too windy to throw rocks.

                                                                                              – Anonymous

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To take a peek at the first pages of our volume, check out the site at Amazon here.

Books may also be purchased at Barnes and Noble here.

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Monday Music: For What It's Worth (Buffalo Springfield - Bluegrass Cover)

 A fine bluegrass cover of Buffalo Springfield's For What It's Worth by Del McCoury Band and friends (courtesy of the Del McCoury YouTube channel).

 

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Saturday Haiku: Turning Leaves

 

leaves turn to signal
shortened days and cooler nights
as dry winds gather

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Photo by Charles Kinnaird

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The Day the Dead

The Day of the Dead (El Día de los Muertos) is a custom that would have seemed strange or even offputting to many in the American South when I was growing up. With the growing Hispanic influence in the U.S. today, we are being introduced to many new customs that we "anglos" can benefit from. For example, in American society, we tend to push death back. We don't really want to think about it. Even in the medical field, we are much more attuned to life-saving measures than we are at end of life care.

In Birmingham, Alabama, this year marks the 20th celebration of El Día de los Muertos.

Setting aside some time to think about the dead need not be a maudlin or grim occasion. It can be a time to celebrate the lives of loved ones who have died. Having a day to recognize our mortality can certainly be beneficial in giving us a healthy perspective on life. 

With each passing year, there are significant sojourners who have parted from the present company of friends and family; people who have heretofore shared an earthly path.  And thus we grieve, “but not as those who have no hope.”

You probably know of friends and colleagues who have died during the past year. You can use this time to call them to mind and think of how your life was enriched by their shared time in your world.

I found a link from ABC news which has a slide show of notable people who died in 2022. You can visit that site here. 

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For All the Saints (and Fellow Travelers)

All Saints’ Day is a day to commemorate the saints. Traditionally, during the All Saints' Day service,  names of those who have died within the past year are called out in anticipation of All Souls' Day on November 2.   All Souls' Day has been set aside to remember our fellow pilgrims who have crossed over to that “undiscovered country, from whose bourn no traveller returns.”* 

One could view Halloween (All Hallow's Eve), All Saints Day, and All Souls Day as a three-day period in which we can see a thinning of the veil to bring us closer to those who have gone before us. 

With each passing year, there are significant sojourners who have parted from the present company of friends and family; people who have heretofore shared an earthly path.  And thus we grieve, “but not as those who have no hope.”

You probably know of friends and colleagues who have died during the past year. You can use this time to call them to mind and think of how your life was enriched by their shared time in your world.

I found a link from ABC news which has a slide show of notable people who died in 2022. You can visit that site here. 

The Day of the Dead (El Día de los Muertos) is a custom that would have seemed strange or even offputting to many in the American South when I was growing up. With the growing Hispanic influence in the U.S. today, we are being introduced to many new customs that we "anglos" can benefit from. For example, in American society, we tend to push death back. We don't really want to think about it. Even in the medical field, we are much more attuned to life-saving measures than we are at end of life care.

In Birmingham, Alabama, this year marks the 20th celebration of El Día de los Muertos.

Setting aside some time to think about the dead need not be a maudlin or grim occasion. It can be a time to celebrate the lives of loved ones who have died. Having a day to recognize our mortality can certainly be beneficial in giving us a healthy perspective on life. 

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* From William Shakespeare's Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 1, Hamlet's Soliloquy. 

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