Archives - December 2011

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Dec. 16

The Grinch

4

The Spirit of Giving

Several Decembers ago my youngest son Cody came home from first grade with the following news: “Mom, my friend Kevin told me there’s no such thing as Santa Claus. He said our parents buy all the gifts and put ‘em under the tree.  Is that true?”

At a loss for words, I asked, “Well, what do you think, Cody?”

“Shoot, I told Kevin that Santa Claus might not come to his house, but he sure does come to ours because my parents can’t afford all that stuff.”

Out of the mouths of babes.

Saint Nicholas, the original Santa Claus, was born in the year 270 A.D. in Greece.  He had a reputation for secret gift giving. His reputation evolved from among the faithful, as was common with early ...

Dec. 6

Dirge Without Music

88

Bereft

My friend Karry buries her sweet mother today.  A melancholy task.  Our mothers are supposed to leave this world before us, but we are never prepared for that day, especially when it arrives this early.  She had so many good years ahead of her enjoying her daughters and her grandchildren.  Karry is now motherless, moorless, bereft.

 

At the times of my greatest sadnesses, I always turn to poetry because it is a comfort, one way "to be hurled staight into the heart of God."  Edna St. Vincent Millay has the most perfect verses in times like these.  This is her poem "Dirge without Music":

 

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts to the hard ground.

So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:

Into the darkness they go, the ...

Dec. 2

Ekphrastic Poetry

71

The Art of India

Subodh Gupta, a young Indian artist, makes sculpture from everyday household items -- pots, pans, collanders ...  When I saw a piece of his sculpture on display at the Houston art museum, it seemed to dominate the room with its bright silver flash.  On another wall there was a painting of Mahatma Gandhi, and I couldn't help but wonder what he would think of the modern art.

 

Household Art

 

“I am the idol thief.  I steal from the drama of Hindu life.

And from the kitchen.”

Subodh Gupta

 

The circular silver sculpture

dominates the room

with its Bollywood flash

from these everyday items,

the lifeblood of the domestic kitchen.

Each pot, each, pan, each spoon, each cup

tells its own story of India: 

an aging woman preparing naan for her grandchildren,  

a young wife ...

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Listening to the whispering pines

Hello. My name is Donna Cozart Pauley. Welcome to The Whispering Pines, a literary blog dedicated to my love of the written word. It is an eclectic collage of my life -- from my poems to my stories to my family to my pets to my causes to my photographs to my recipes to my love of teaching to my favorite literature. Please feel free to comment. Words are only important if they are heard or read. Just like those soundless trees falling in the forest.

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