Written about 3AM on 15 October before I went to sleep.

For Hello Poetry user "Jeff Buckley":

While I agree that musician Jeff Buckley's lyrics are poetic, and often reach the level of true poetry, here is one of his actual poems, never set nor intended to be set to music.  

It is a ****** good poem,  touching on a number of subjects near and dear to my heart, which strongly resonates with me.

For the record, I have come only recently to the music of Jeff Buckley, within the past year, through my wonderful and musically adept husband Marek.  Buckley's music has moved me far more than that of most other singer/songwriters, save only for Steven Wilson, Mariusz Duda and Nick Drake.  He and I shared a lot of influences in common, from old 1920s blues and jazz, to pop standards, French music, classical and early British rock and progressive rock.  His first and only studio album released during his lifetime, "Grace," is not to be missed.

Sadly, he drowned at the age of 30, accidentally or otherwise, robbing us all of his incredible gift.  Not only was he an amazing songwriter, but a fine guitarist and, most of all, an incredible vocalist.  He had not only an amazing vocal range, but as mentioned a widely divergent source of influences, lending to some truly transcendent music and lyrics.  

RIP Jeff Buckley.  You are sorely missed.

For those interested in seeing his performance of the poem, which shows what a humble guy he was, you can find it here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=duoujUI--Mo

This is the 10th of fifteen 10-word poems I wrote this morning, 23 June 2015.  I posted them here in the order in which I wrote them.

Haiku is one of my favorite forms of short poetry.  I've been writing them since childhood.

I have read this poem in public on occasion but this is the first time it appears in print.

This poem was inspired by a number of people in my life, from the abusers to those I saw abused, many of whom seemed complicit in their abuse, if only by their refusal (or inability) to stand up for themselves.  I also knew many people, including myself on occasion, who were their own worst abusers.

Please note that this was emotional abuse, as I would never have stood by without calling the authorities had physical abuse been involved.

I read this poem at the monthly meditation meeting I attended shortly after I wrote the poem.

Second of four poems written this morning.
Our place is bordered on our eastern side by the Calfkiller River.

This was the third of seven poems I wrote this morning, 24 June 2015.

Anyone with cats will understand.  ;-)  

We have three cats again - in the poem I was referring to all girls, whereas now we have all boys.  Wonderful and loving creatures either way.

This poem has been read in public, at the Oxygen Bar in Dunedin, Florida, and published in an online journal which no longer exists.

I have read this poem in public on several occasions.  This is the first time it appears in print.

Originally written on 13Apr99, following an article I read about the first breeding pairs of whooping cranes released in Kissimmee, Florida, near Orlando, of which one pair was successfully (at the time of the article) raising a clutch of hatchlings.

We saw occasional endangered sandhill cranes, where I lived in Pinellas County, where the entire county is a designated bird sanctuary, along with literally dozens of other rare and threatened bird species from wood storks and roseate spoonbills to bald eagles and ospreys.

Having included a poem I wrote for my stepson, it's only fair that I include one I wrote for my stepdaughter as well.  ;-)
I have read this in public but this is the first time it appears in print.

Originally written on 4 Feb 2006 at 11:57 PM.

This poem is very close to my heart, as I have been strongly morally opposed to whaling since childhood, and it was inspired by the following wrenching quote:

The methods have hardly evolved since Dr. Harry D. Lillie worked as a ship's doctor on a whaling expedition in the Antarctic in 1946:

"If we can imagine a horse having two or three explosive spears stuck into its stomach and being made to pull a butcher's truck through the streets of London while it pours blood in the gutter, we shall have an idea of the present method of killing. The gunners themselves admit that if whales could scream the industry would stop, for nobody would be able to stand it."

I recently read the wonderful book "Fluke, or I know Why the Winged Whale Sings" by Christopher Moore, in which , though it is a work of (mostly) humorous fiction, he recounts a factual occurrence of a mother whale attempting to protect her calf from the Japanese whaling ship pursuing them.  In Japan, whales are considered to be nothing more than fish, with therefore no moral reason not to hunt them to extinction, but her actions showed the whalers onboard the ship that she truly displayed a mammalian motherly love, and moved many of them to tears.  

There is still room for hope, but we have to act NOW, and drag our government officials into the 21st century kicking and screaming if need be.

This is one of my very favorites among all the pieces I have ever written.  I have read it in public on many occasions, though this is the first time it appears in print.

Okay, so the initial incident described with the thresher shark actually took place on the Venice Pier, and my mom was with us.  ;-)  At the time we lived in Santa Monica in-between the two piers, and we spent a lot of afternoons and evenings walking on the beach and piers.  Everyone on the beaches knew and loved my dog, a lovely and beautifully mannered purebred Newfoundland, and even the cops knew her by name.  This was not long after a concerted effort by private citizens saved the historic 1909 wooden pier from destruction at the hands of historically myopic local government officials.  

It was a wonderful place and time.

When I started college, I majored in marine biology, and my primary interests then, as now, were whales and sharks.  

This poem, written on 6Feb99, was about a pregnant female California grey whale, Eschrichtius robustus, which had died at sea and washed ashore on the Palos Verdes Peninsula, in southernmost Los Angles County.  Although in life grey whales are dark to light grey, depending upon age and the amount of barnacles and sea lice encrustations on their skin, after death the outer skin sloughs off, revealing the blubber layer beneath, making the whale appear white to the casual observer.

Local residents were appalled by the stench, as whales' bodies are designed to retain heat and thus decompose rapidly, while biologists agreed that a spike in local bacterial levels in near-shore waters most likely contributed to the death of the whale and her calf.

My favorite scientific name for the grey whale, which I would like to see become California's state animal, is the obsolete Rhachianectes glaucus, which translates literally to "grey swimmer along rocky shores."  I can't think of a better description of these magnificent and loving animals.

The ninth of nine short poems written before I got out of bed this morning.
c.2015 Cori MacNaughton

I wrote this poem after an incident when a fruit rat got inside our house, and our two cats, Bonnie and Clydesdale, both female, merely watched it go.  While purring no doubt.
I did ultimately find it dead behind the sofa, oh joy, so I guess they finally did something, though it didn't have a mark on it.

I have read this poem in public but this is the first time it appears in print.

The seventh of seven poems written this morning.

My ode to one of the most healing elixirs on the planet, popularized by herbalist Rosemary Gladstar in her books for well over 35 years.  Having loved the stuff for years, I just made my first half-gallon batch on July 4th - my personal Independence Day from mainstream medicine.

Recently, three business people with few scruples and less common sense, having gotten the idea and initial recipe from a friend, who no doubt came by it through Rosemary Gladstar or one of her many proteges, decided to trademark the phrase "fire cider," claiming - dishonestly - that they had invented it, despite it having been around for decades - if not generations - under that name.  
Suddenly, lay herbalists all over the country had their listings removed from Etsy and other websites for intellectual property infringement, even though many of the said herbalists had been selling fire cider for far longer than the name had been trademarked.

Being something of a rebel myself, I have made and will continue to make Fire Cider using its original name, crediting Rosemary Gladstar as the original source - even though she herself acknowledges that it is far older than she, and even she learned about it from an older herbalist - and publicly thumb my nose at the cretins who trademarked the phrase, with the firm belief that they should be ashamed of themselves for trying to capitalize on OTHER PEOPLE'S WORK while claiming it as their own.

It is up to us, We the People, for keeping knowledge such as this free and available to the public at large.  Lives may well depend upon it.

For those who wish to learn how to make fire cider for yourselves, I direct you to the YouTube videos that Rosemary Gladstar and Mountain Rose Herbs have generously provided to the public for free.  
Herbalists in general are a generous lot, and she is one of the finest, along with Susun ****, both of whom were inspired by my personal favorite herbalist, the late British veterinarian and master herbalist Dr. Juliette di Bairicli-Levy.  
I recommend the work of all three herbalists highly.

For those with kids or animals, the books on herbalism by Dr. di Bairicli-Levy are invaluable, as she spent the better part of seventy years traveling the world and learning the herbal medicine traditions of people in every part of the world, initially as it pertained to their animals, but ultimately for use with humans as well.  
Her "Complete Herbal for the Dog and Cat" and "Complete Herbal for Barnyard Animals" (which includes dogs and cats, but in less detail) are must-have volumes for anyone with animals.  
She successfully ran a very busy animal clinic in London, England, where she was routinely curing even distemper and rabies cases - diseases that modern veterinary science still considers incurable today - and she was curing them in the 1930s.  
Do yourself - and your family - a favor, buy her books, and keep them at the ready, for whatever may come along.  You will be glad you did.

I wrote this poem after collecting shells and beach glass one afternoon.  Opals are my birth stone and have long been favorites.
I have read this poem in public many times but this is the first time it appears in print.

The third of nine short poems written before I got out of bed this morning.
c.2015 Cori MacNaughton

This is the 14th of fifteen 10-word poems I wrote this morning, 23 June 2015.  I posted them here in the order in which I wrote them.

. . . and, finally, one that ends on a up note.

Originally written on 6Feb99, read numerous times in public, and appearing here in print for the first time.

The fifth of nine short poems written before I got out of bed this morning.
c.2015 Cori MacNaughton

I wrote this while living in Largo, Florida, where we had a lot more wildlife than is typical in a heavily populated urban setting - including LOTS of bats!  

I have always loved watching them in the evening and early morning hours, so I was pleased when we moved to Tennessee to discover that we have even more bats here.  ;-)

I have read this poem in public on numerous occasions but this is the first time it appears in print.

The fourth of nine short poems written before I got out of bed this morning.
c.2015 Cori MacNaughton

I wrote this just over a year before meeting my current husband, who is truly the love of my life.  In an interesting bit of synchronicity, I wrote it on his birthday.

I have read this poem in public on several occasions, but this is the first time I have shared it in print.

The third of four Haiku written about 3AM on 15 October before I went to sleep.

This is the 7th of fifteen 10-word poems I wrote this morning, 23 June 2015.  I posted them here in the order in which I wrote them.

Dedicated to my parents, who allowed me to be who I am, rather than trying to narrow my choices artificially.
I have read this poem in public but this is the first time it appears in print.

This is the 6th of fifteen 10-word poems I wrote this morning, 23 June 2015.  I posted them here in the order in which I wrote them.

The sixth of nine short poems written before I got out of bed this morning.
c.2015 Cori MacNaughton

Written 20150628 in response to the excellent poem, "Broken Shadow," by Rare But Relevant:
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1244771/broken-shadow/

Thanks for the inspiration!

My thoughts and heart goes out to all affected by the flooding from Hurricane Joachim.  We've been getting the outer rain bands for days now, but this morning - finally - the sun broke through.  Rebuilding begins.

I thought I had posted this before, but apparently not: I am posting it now as a native Californian, for all those affected by the terrible wildfires this year and every year, with love, prayer and hopes for the safety of all.

I wrote this poem in January 2001, but it refers to a trip back to California that I took with my then-husband in 1994, and to the two separate wildfires I drove into unknowingly in the late 1970s; the first in Topanga Canyon, and the second in Malibu.  It is the second fire that is described in the poem, and although I traveled with my dog frequently, she wasn't actually with me that day - but the rabbit and fox really were.

This is the fourth poem I wrote this morning, 24 June 2015.

Ugh - grey rainy days for days on end - and over my birthday too.  Ugh again.  This is one of those days when I wonder at the wisdom of leaving the warmth of Florida, and of California before that.  This too shall pass.

The second of nine short poems written before I got out of bed this morning.
c.2015 Cori MacNaughton

Oh joy - my first troll.  
Congratulations on being the first person on this site I've blocked.
On the other hand, you inspired me to write a new poem, so there's a reason for everything.  I hope you learn from this ridiculous episode, but I'm not holding my breath.

The fourth of four Haiku written about 3AM on 15 October before I went to sleep.

I have read this poem publicly on several occasions, but this is the first time it appears in print.

This is the 13th of fifteen 10-word poems I wrote this morning, 23 June 2015.  I posted them here in the order in which I wrote them.

The eighth of nine short poems written before I got out of bed this morning.
c.2015 Cori MacNaughton

Another lost poem found, this one written on 18 January 2013.

The first of nine short poems written before I got out of bed this morning.
c.2015 Cori MacNaughton

I wrote this poem in between phone calls when I was working in an insurance company in Pasadena, California, shortly before I moved to Florida.  It remains one of my favorites among my poems.
Obviously, for anyone who has done any boating, the subject is a dolphin; in this case, a Pacific Whitesided Dolphin (Lagenorhynchus obliquidens), which was one of the most common - and beautiful - species common to California.  The dolphin in question was leaping between our boat and the setting sun.

This poem first appeared in a poetry anthology dedicated to California poets, and though unfortunately I do not recall the name, it appeared around 1983 or 1984.

Written in June 2000, a counterpoint to my poem of the conflagration witnessed at the hands of a wildfire in the Santa Monica Mountains.  

I have read this in public on multiple occasions.

The fourth of seven poems written this morning.

I wrote this as I went to bed last night, around 3 AM, and at least three large owls were calling to one another.  One was very close, another a bit farther away, and a third I could barely hear; if there were others, they were beyond my range of hearing.  The frogs, crickets and other sounds of the woods gave the background for the sound tapestry.  

Interestingly, as I finished the poem, the owls apparently moved on, as if they had done their job.  ;-)  We have a number of different species in our woods, and I'm not certain which these were, but they were clearly larger owls.

Written 28 Sept 2015, All rights reserved.