A series of essays.....
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| 'PINK MOON RISING' |
.....as seen through my eyes!
By: Jacqueline E. Hughes
A PARIS FLOWER MARKET
Having recently returned from the guest bedroom making
certain that sheets were stripped from the bed and all towels that had been used
were now in my possession to be washed, I sat down holding the envelope in my
hands with a smile beaming across my face. Our guests, our good friends, our
link with the past, present, and future...had left us a priceless gift, secretly
allowing it to nestle among the four pillows that reside on the Queen-sized bed,
in the yellow-striped room with purple accents, specifically for us to discover
after their departure.
A self proclaimed lover of beautiful gift cards, she
decorated the envelope with our names and miniature hearts and I proceeded to
slit open the cream colored paper with surgical precision, preserving its integrity as much as possible, as memories of our
time together danced in my head. Sliding the card from its temporary
confinement, a Parisian flower market began to emerge as French blue pots filled
with bright purple blooms were encompassed by similar sized beige pots bursting
with thick, green ferns along with an ancient, curlicued iron bench weathered in rust
and sporting white paint chips as if it were wearing fish scale accessories in
order to impress the potted plants that regally sat upon it.
After successfully releasing the garden, inch by inch, from
its captivity, I opened the 'tiny book' anxious to discover the collection of
handcrafted words composing the message I was to savour, appreciate, delight in
for several moments before extending the joy I felt by rereading the words a
second and third time. Personal sentiments addressed from the heart, adorning
paper with affirmative expressions, coinciding with our own identical feelings, with
the hope of capturing similar moments in the near future...thus proclaimed the
dark blue swirls. Until next time, sweet friends, this Parisian flower market will continue to remind us of you and forever connect us with your thoughtfulness, kindness, and
love.
Expressly dedicated to Michael and Marsha.
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| PARIS FLOWER MARKET |
Photo Credit Marilyn A. Roofner
FOR THE LOVE OF PROSE POETRY
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| CHARLES BAUDELAIRE |
My hat (beret?) off to those remarkable men of
Nineteenth-century France, originators and practitioners of Prose Poetry, with
their musical names such as Mallarmé, Bertrand, Rimbaud, and Baudelaire that seem to
sing and dance right off of the tongue when said aloud. Not to be confused with
short short stories or micro-stories, Prose Poetry, a hybrid genre showing
attributes of both prose and poetry, may be indistinguishable from them in the
end. Frequently misinterpreted as a modern concept, the style and appeal of
Prose Poetry can be as light and mystifying as a full-moon rising over the River
Seine at a time when Impressionistic painters, the likes of Monet, Renoir, and Pissarro,
walked the streets of Paris in search of backers for their monumental works of
art.
Prose Poems can be tender little morsels of life
presented Tapas style, each small, savory bite richly concentrated with unique
flavors and spices waiting to burst open in your mouth, providing satisfaction
through extreme intensity. Although each poem tells a story in itself....often
transitioning one story smoothly into the next allows an author to connect the
emotional dots between birth to death, beginning to end, while each curvaceous
puzzle piece awaits its turn in assisting to complete the larger picture.
Soul searching. Concentrating on a common theme. Evoking
emotions in others by means of example and personal recall. With styles as
variable as the ingredients it would take to produce each story, creators of
Prose Poetry offer their own interpretations of life based upon experiences and
long-term beliefs that served to shape them into the individuals they had become
by the time their first thoughts were ever transcribed. Location, interaction
with others, religious beliefs, joy and sorrow, and economic status become power
sources for those seeking this concentrated form of personal expression. From
the works of Charles Baudelaire to Bob Dylan, and all of the many modern day
writers who are accomplished in writing Prose Poems, I salute you!
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| APRIL 2017 IS POETRY MONTH |
'PINK MOON RISING'
I stepped outside last night to take a picture of the
Pink Moon. Our neighbor saw me and called over to say hello and ask how we were
doing. It took only a few minutes, but well spent time, for sure. Turning back
to my task at hand, I was pleasantly surprised to see how you can say hello to
your neighbor, talk for a moment or two and, instantly, the night sky changes
colors on you as if the 'filter wheel' has suddenly rotated, red, green, yellow,
and blue light....continually illuminating the silver, aluminum tree. In this case, pale pink
sky outlined by dusky, gray clouds transitioned into shades of French blue
capped-off by a misty crown of pale lavender. The Pink Moon came alive amidst
the myriad of colors.
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| THE 'PINK MOON' SHROUDED IN A VEIL OF MISTY LAVENDER |
The full moon tonight will reach its peak at 2:08 a.m.
The moon will be on the opposite side of the Earth and the sun will be
illuminating it, making it extra bright. I can assure you that I won't be
experiencing its peak and, neither will our neighbor. I did make it outside for a
few more photo ops, however....while the night was still young. The white hot
sphere, by this time, had positioned itself between the branches of our live oak
tree simulating a large, bright ball that had been recently flung from a
giant's slingshot and cast out into the depths of the deep blue sky.
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| A GIANT'S SLINGSHOT |
But why is it called the 'Pink Moon' if, in actuality,
it is so white and bright? I discovered a reason behind the lovely
name.
As with most stories surrounding the titles and
reasoning behind the naming of the full moons throughout the year, it has to do
with our Native Americans. They named this April moon after an outrageously pink
wildflower known as phlox. This wild ground flower blossoms prolifically
early-on in the month of April in North America. No pink colored moon tonight.
Instead we honor the rights of Spring and all of the beautiful delights it has
to offer us. I can certainly handle and celebrate that!
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| A FIELD OF PINK PHLOX |
Surprise! I woke up early enough this morning to say
goodbye to the 'Pink Moon' in the Western sky while just in time to welcome the
rising sun peeking its glorious head out from the treetops to the East as it was slowly rising over the Atlantic coastline. What a wonderful and amazing world
this is!
Copyright © 2017 by Jacqueline E. Hughes
All rights reserved
