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Monthly Archives: March 2013

Betrayer

Judas  - Artist unknown

Judas – Artist unknown

Betrayer

I never fit with the eleven.
Fishermen, tax collector, even the Carpenter
lack my calculating mind.

Obviously now a push is needed
to make Him show Himself
for who He is.

The others will thank me
from their places by the throne
even the J. brothers—

getting their mother
to ask for left and right!
—how laughable.

Heavy bag
will soon be heavier still
this night

I alone have courage
to take their destinies
into my hands.

© 2013 by Violet Nesdoly

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Today is Good Friday, the day Christians all over the world commemorate the death of Christ. The story includes one of Jesus’ disciples—Judas— betraying Him to the Romans with a kiss in exchange for 30 pieces of silver from the chief priests and scribes.

The Bible gives us this chilling explanation of why he did this: “Then Satan entered Judas…” (Luke 22:3).  How he rationalized his actions and what  he hoped he would get out of it is not told us. “Betrayal” is one scenario I’ve imagined.

poetry+friday+button+-+fulllThis poem is part of Poetry Friday, hosted today by Mary Lee Hahn at A Year of Reading

 
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Posted by on March 29, 2013 in People, Poetry Friday, Religious

 

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Houston Trail – Langley BC

mossy branch arcs over water

“…branches arc…”

Houston Trail – Langley BC

Peacock ferns, prehistoric, lush
draw us into the dim, cedar-canopied wood.
Uprooted trunks sprawl, branches arc,
snapped limbs leap in frozen pirouettes.
Slim apparitions forever grope, reach, grasp
a menagerie of many-appendaged moon monsters
sculpted from dripping filigree
and moss macramé.

Victim of the spell
in Mother’s warning:
“If you frown like that
your face will stay that way,”
the forest’s pose is fixed.
But time has softened the arboreal grimace
muffled the keening of the wind
with hangings of verdant chenille,
knitted blankets, sweaters,
hats and gloves of lime angora
for the slumbering
arms, stumps and claws.

© 2004 – Violet Nesdoly

mossy branch

“…apparitions forever grope, reach, grasp…”

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I live near rainforest. Some of my favorite walks are through woods beside the Fraser River. I’ll never forget the first time I walked the Houston Trail—a loop walk through the most mossy woods I’ve ever seen. It looked like a forest minefield draped in green. The poem above is my memory of that walk.

On Sunday I walked another trail near that one and again moss was everywhere. I wrote the poem some years ago. I took the photos on Sunday.

poetry+friday+button+-+fulllThis poem is part of Poetry Friday, hosted today by Greg at GottaBook

 
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Posted by on March 22, 2013 in Nature, Personal, Poetry Friday

 

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The Old Washing Machine

The Old Washing Machine

The minute I twist her dial
and pull our her knob
she leaps into action,
fetching bucket upon bucket of water.

Then stops.

What does she do
in those moments of stillness?

Perhaps she’s ruing her instant obedience,
wants to let me know who’s really the boss here.
She’ll start again, but only when
she’s good and ready.

Or she’s planning the job ahead
plotting each agitation
like a skater envisioning
the poised execution
of each spin.

Most likely, though,
she is the old lady
with arthritis
at the bottom of the stairs,
screwing up her courage
for the task ahead.

© 2013 – Violet Nesdoly

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Check out more washed, dried, ironed and folded poems, part of this week’s focus on laundry at Your Daily Poem:

 
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Posted by on March 13, 2013 in Objects

 

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Chopped–March Madness Edition

The week ahead will see the first rounds of the March Madness 2013 Poetry Showdown at Ed Decaria’s blog Think Kid Think.

The format of March Madness competition, with each poet given a surprise ingredient (word) to inspire and use in their poem, reminded me of the Food Network show Chopped.

In Chopped the contestants are presented with a basket of odd ingredients which they must use in preparing their appetizer, entree or dessert. The rounds are timed and when the time is up the judges taste each contestant’s offering and offer compliments or criticism. With the contestants out of the room the judges decide on the most unsuccessful dish. Then the contestants re-enter the studio, stand before the judges, and the show’s host lifts the cover of the losing plate of food. The contestant who prepared that dish is chopped and leaves the competition.

Now imagine you’re one of the March Madness competitors in a segment of Chopped:

Chopped

Chopped–March Madness Edition

I’ve opened my basket
pulled out what’s inside.
Oh, what can be done
with a bag of riptide?

I’ve scratched and I’ve scribbled
diced sauteed and whipped
those rhymes and those rhythms
till tide is well lipped.

I’ve plated it nicely
in stanzas and lines
garnished with a title
it’s looking divine.

Just in time I am done.
Three, two, one–I must stop.
Now it’s on to the judges
for who lands on top.

I watch as the connoisseurs
sample my dish.
One says, “This is buttery
sweet and delish.”

Another judge grimaces
“I say, I wish
it wasn’t half raw
and tasting like fish.

The rhyme scheme is off
I feel grits when I swish
the words in my mouth
and they come out mash-mish.”

They sample the others
are equally tough
I do hope my buttery
riptide‘s enough!

We stand for the verdict
the cover is popped
on my darling riptide.
I have been chopped.

© 2013 Violet Nesdoly

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poetry+friday+button+-+fulllThis post is part of Poetry Friday, hosted today by Heidi Mordhorst at My Juicy Little Universe

 
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Posted by on March 7, 2013 in Light, Poetry Friday, Writing

 

Speed Prey

Author David Harrison’s Adult Word of the Month (W.O.P.) Poems feature snake poems this month. Here’s my take on SNAKE.

"Speed Prey" poem by Violet Nesdoly

 
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Posted by on March 5, 2013 in Light, People

 

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