Find A Rainbow

Post by Doris McCraw

writing as Angela Raines

In addition to April being National Poetry Month, April 3, 2022, is also National Find a Rainbow Day. I do like the idea of a day devoted to rainbows. To me, they have always been calming. We've all heard the story of the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. To me, the gold is the rainbow itself. 

Rainbows also have inspired poets through the years. Below are just a couple of examples. 

In time of silver rain
The earth puts forth new life again,
Green grasses grow
And flowers lift their heads,
And over all the plain
The wonder spreads

  Of Life,
  Of Life,
  Of life!

In time of silver rain
The butterflies lift silken wings
To catch a rainbow cry,
And trees put forth new leaves to sing
In joy beneath the sky
As down the roadway
Passing boys and girls
Go singing, too,

  In time of silver rain When spring
  And life
  Are new.

by Langston Hughes (1947)

and

My heart leaps up when I behold 
   A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began; 
So is it now I am a man; 
So be it when I shall grow old, 
   Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.

by William Woodsworth (1802)

Of course, no post about rainbows would  be complete without Kermit

Youtube - Kermit

So on this Find a Rainbow Day, please find your rainbow, write a poem about it, a short story, or just your thoughts.

Dreaming of rainbows

Colors streaking across sky

Finds joy in the soul.

by Doris McCraw

Until next time, as Kermit would ask, "Why are there so many songs about rainbows?"

Easter Poetry - National Poetry Month

 Post by Doris McCraw writing as Angela Raines

Photo property of the author

This post is composed of Easter Poems by poets from the 1800s. Since today is Easter and April is National Poetry Month, it seemed appropriate to combine the two. Of course, it doesn't hurt that I love poetry. The first is by Oscar Wilde.

The silver trumpets rang across the Dome:

The people knelt upon the ground with awe:

And borne upon the necks of men I saw,

Like some great God, the Holy Lord of Rome.

Priest-like, he wore a robe more white than foam,

And, king-like, swathed himself in royal red,

Three crowns of gold rose high upon his head:

In splendor and in light the Pope passed home.

My heart stole back across wide wastes of years

To One who wandered by a lonely sea,

And sought in vain for any place of rest:

"Foxes have holes, and every bird its nest,

I, only I, must wander wearily,

And bruise My feet, and drink wine salt with tears."

Oscar Wilde

Photo property of the author

This second poem is by one of my favorite eighteenth-century female poets after Helen, Christine Rosetti.

There is nothing more that they can do
For all their rage and boast;
Caiaphas with his blaspheming crew,
Herod with his host,

Pontius Pilate in his Judgement-hall
Judging their Judge and his,
Or he who led them all and passed them all,
Arch-Judas with his kiss.

The sepulchre made sure with ponderous Stone,
Seal that same stone, O Priest;
It may be thou shalt block the holy One
From rising in the east:

Set a watch about the sepulchre
To watch on pain of death;
They must hold fast the stone if One should stir
And shake it from beneath.

God Almighty, He can break a seal
And roll away a Stone,
Can grind the proud in dust who would not kneel,
And crush the mighty one.

There is nothing more that they can do
For all their passionate care,
Those who sit in dust, the blessed few,
And weep and rend their hair:

Peter, Thomas, Mary Magdalene,
The Virgin unreproved,
Joseph, with Nicodemus, foremost men,
And John the Well-beloved,

Bring your finest linen and your spice,
Swathe the sacred Dead,
Bind with careful hands and piteous eyes
The napkin round His head;

Lay Him in the garden-rock to rest;
Rest you the Sabbath length:
The Sun that went down crimson in the west
Shall rise renewed in strength.

God Almighty shall give joy for pain,
Shall comfort him who grieves:
Lo! He with joy shall doubtless come again,
And with Him bring His sheaves.

Christina Georgina Rossetti 

I wish everyone has a wonderful Spring and Easter. Until next month, keep reading and writing. 

Doris Gardner-McCraw -

Author, Speaker, Historian-specializing in
Colorado and Women's History

Angela Raines - author: Telling Stories Where Love & History Meet

Books: Angela Raines Books

POETIC WORDS

Post by Doris McCraw

writing as Angela Raines

Photo property of the author

For this first Sunday in April, and my scheduled post day, I want to talk about poetry. I realize that poetry is not for everyone. Still, April is National Poetry Month and I want to share some poems and the reason I love this writing form. I love Tennyson, Frost, and Ferlinghetti, however, this time around I will be looking at poems that inspire my imagination and touch something within me.

One of the first poems that had an impact on me was ‘The Highwayman’ by Alfred Noyes. From the first stanza, the imagery and cadence captured my young girl's heart. I could see it and became a part of the story. (You can google the poem and find the complete poem)

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.

The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas

The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,

And the highwayman came riding—

Riding—riding—

The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

Photo property of the author

Later I found the work of fellow Illinois resident, who wrote about a town eight-four miles from where I grew up. The stories of the residents of Galesburg, Illinois inspired Edgar Lee Masters to write “Spoon River Anthology” named for the river that ran through the area. It is told via the idea of what would be on the headstones in the graveyard. Each piece tells the life of the resident as you read the secrets and the intertwining of the lives in the town. Three of my favorites are, Lucinda Matlock, Dorcas Gustine, and Mabel Osborne. The last line of Lucinda’s verse is one that has stayed with me since I first read it. (You can download the book from the Gutenburg Foundation Books.)

At ninety-six I had lived enough, that is all,

And passed to a sweet repose.

What is this I hear of sorrow and weariness,

Anger, discontent and drooping hopes?

Degenerate sons and daughters,

Life is too strong for you -

It takes life to love Life.

Although there are many more poets I love, I found Helen Jackson and fell in love with her work. Admittedly I also perform as her and live not far from where she lived here in Colorado. I truly do enjoy most of her poetry, and her poem, ‘Last Words’ brings tears when I read it. At the same time, her poem ‘Two Truths’ is a story I someday want to write.

‘Darling,’ he said,‘I never meant

To hurt you;’ and his eyes were wet.

‘I would not hurt you for the world:

Am I to blame if I forget?’

‘Forgive my selfish tears!’ she cried,

‘Forgive! I knew that it was not

Because you meant to hurt me, sweet-

I knew it was that you forgot!’

But all the same, deep in her heart

Rankles this thought, and rankles yet,-

‘When love is at its best, one loves

So much that he cannot forget.’

Photo property of the author

As I finish up this poetry post for National Poetry Month, I will leave you with the rough draft of a poem I wrote when I visited Helen’s gravesite the other day.

A Visit with Helen

She said,

“I hear the wind

Remembering its feel

Caressing my skin.

The earth heats and cools

Memory seeing

Night and day

Winter and Spring

Roots wind around

The place I stay

Visualizing flowers, trees

Grasses, plants

Words written long ago

Sustaining me

Through eternity.”

Copyright 2020

May you all have a safe, productive April. My thoughts are with you as we navigate this stressful and for some a scary time. For me, the beauty of thoughts, events, and words from the past helps sustain me as I continue this journey of imagination, joy, and creativity. I wish the same for you.

Doris Gardner-McCraw -

Author, Speaker, Historian-specializing in
Colorado and Women's History

Angela Raines - author: Where Love & History Meet

Books: Angela Raines Books

Photo and Poem: Click Here 

Angela Raines FaceBook: Click Here

WHAT TO DO, IT'S APRIL FOOLS

As I sat down to write this months post, I was beset with so many options for a post this month. Today is Easter Sunday, and April Fools Day. April is national poetry month. And lest we forget, April is also known as the 'growing' month, the month where dormant plants begin to show signs of growth.

April 1 is also national one-cent day and national sourdough day. You can view a list of national days in April here: April National Holiday calendar

So let's see if I can find a way to incorporate some of the options for this day and month.

I will start with Helen (Hunt) Jackson's sonnet April:

No days such honored days as these! While yet 

Fair Aphrodite reigned, men seeking wide 

For some fair thing which should forever bide 

On earth, her beauteous memory to set 

In fitting frame that no age could forget, 

Her name in lovely April's name did hide, 

And leave it there, eternally allied 

To all the fairest flowers Spring did beget. 

And when fair Aphrodite passed from earth, 

Her shrines forgotten and her feasts of mirth, 

A holier symbol still in seal and sign, 

Sweet April took, of kingdom most divine, 

When Christ ascended, in the time of birth 

Of spring anemones, in Palestine. 

In this short poem, most of what makes April special was covered. I also confess, I love poetry and Helen's work in particular. I hope you don't mind.

But that pesky April fools day may be a problem. I've never been one to pull pranks on people, it just seems mean to me. Still, I need to find a way to honor the spirit of the concept. There is the question, where did it come from? I confess the truth is like finding a particular Mary Smith in history; there are just too many to chose from. So, I shall share what I believe is the true story:

As March winds blew across the land

The powers that were said this is bad

We need to give the people hope

So they sent the sun out at a lope

People praised the warming day

As April arrived with bright rays

Then as all started a joyous dance

One fool cursed and looked askance

The bright sky darkened fast

The people cried, their party past

And know you know the story true

It came about because of a fool.

by Doris McCraw

(APRIL FOOLS *GRIN*)

May everyone have a wonderful day, week, month and year. Keep your mind and fingers busy for there are readers to be found and kept happy. I wish everyone a Happy Easter, April Fool's Day and while you're at it, enjoy a piece of sourdough bread for me.

I will leave you with one last poem by Emily Dickinson, friend and contemporary of Helen (Hunt) Jackson:

The Robin is the One
That interrupt the Morn
With hurried—few—express Reports
When March is scarcely on—

The Robin is the One
That overflow the Noon
With her cherubic quantity—
An April but begun—

The Robin is the One
That speechless from her Nest
Submit that Home—and Certainty
And Sanctity, are best 

Doris Gardner-McCraw -

Author, Speaker, Historian-specializing in
Colorado and Women's History

Member of National League of American Pen Women,

Women Writing the West,

Pikes Peak Posse of the Westerners

Angela Raines - author: Where Love & History Meet

For a list of Angela Raines Books: Here 

Photo and Poem: Click Here 

Angela Raines FaceBook: Click Here

IT'S ALL IN HOW YOU SAY IT

Post copyright by Doris McCraw

For those who may not know, April is National Poetry Month, and believe it or not, I do write poetry. Admittedly mine is specialized. I write haiku, which in its standard form is seventeen syllables composed of five on the first line, seven on the second and five on the third, usually with a reference to nature and in the original Japanese a drawing. I add my photographs to mine.It started as a writing practice and I now have over 800 that I have posted on my blog: http://fivesevenfivepage.blogspot.com. They are not cowboy or maybe even Western, but every photo I use, which I take myself, is from the West.

 Issa's portrait drawn by Muramatsu Shunpo 1772-1858 (Issa Memorial Hall,Shinano, Nagano, Japan)

There are many wonderful women poets. Many know of Emily Dickinson and Helen (Hunt) Jackson, who were friends and grew up in the same area. There is also Anne Bradstreet and Christina Rosetti. Of the four mentioned, Helen lived in the West and some of her work is about the West. But what about contemporary women poets who write about the West. I love Jane Ambrose Morton and Laurie Wagner Buyer. If you haven't read these two ladies, you are doing yourself a disservice. Their work is very readable, while giving you a glimpse of what it is like to live in the West. I think Jane's "In This Land of Little Rain" is a wonderful look at ranching on the high Colorado plains. Here is a link to some of her work: http://www.cowboypoetry.com/janemorton.htm

Laurie Wagner Buyer's early work "Glass-Eyed Paint in the Rain" is beautiful and heart wrenching, in my opinion. If you are interested in work of either of these ladies, a Google search will give you more than I can cover in this post.

And since this month is about poetry, I've committed to writing a poem a day during the month of April. Now before you think I'm crazy, I write a poem a day five days a week, so I just add another couple of days a week.

Helen (Hunt) Jackson- Poet,Novelist,Essayist and Indian Rights Activist

I will leave you with a couple of poems. First is Helen (Hunt) Jackson:

Emigravit

WITH sails full set, the ship her anchor weighs.
Strange names shine out beneath her figure head.
What glad farewells with eager eyes are said!
What cheer for him who goes, and him who stays!
Fair skies, rich lands, new homes, and untried days 
Some go to seek: the rest but wait instead,
Watching the way wherein their comrades led,
Until the next stanch ship her flag doth raise.
Who knows what myriad colonies there are
Of fairest fields, and rich, undreamed-of gains 
Thick planted in the distant shining plains
Which we call sky because they lie so far?
Oh, write of me, not “Died in bitter pains,”

 But “Emigrated to another star!”  

And yes I will share one of mine. 

Defining the West (a five part haiku)

Defining Western
Journeying toward an end
Sunset of our lives


Traveling westward
Moving ahead of the sun
Toward all things new


Early pathfinder

Paved way for all who followed

Seeding a new growth

Men riding horses
Women and children also
Mythology tales

Mountain barriers
Endless prairie and hardship
Overcoming all

As writers we all have something to say. We work at our craft to express the thoughts we have and want others to understand. We may do it in essays, non-fiction biographies and fiction. Some may even try poetry. I would encourage you to try it. After all, its not always what you say, but how you say it. Until next month, happy writing, ready and enjoy Spring.

Doris McCraw/Angela Raines

http://www.amazon.com/Home-His-Heart-Angela-Raines-ebook/dp/B00LU3HZEK/

Home For His Heart - Angela Raines on Itunes