When I grip
The metal handle of my shovel
to clear the snow
It burns my Fingers. Well,
It freezes them, actually. I
Don't get what it is that happens,
Saturday, March 17, 2007
When I grip
Saturday, March 03, 2007
Today, Saturday, March 3rd, the "What to do with Words Award" goes to Rebecca L. Hurst -- for this humble and moving passage in her poem, "Moment by Moment."
Rebecca and Sean Madden are based in the U.K., and they are the authors of The Mindful Living Guide blog.
and I watched the rain.
A squirrel raided the bird-feeder.
My daughter and I had tea
together. -- from "Moment by Moment" by Rebecca L. Hurst @ The Mindful Living Guide
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Henry David Thoreau -- 19th-century abolitionist, poet, observer of nature, proponent of the moment.
He wins the "What to do With Words Award" today, March 2nd...for his diary entry for February 26, 1840. The observations for that day include a line of simple text, five words that speak of the quiet power of life transformations. They happen gradually, and so we are unaware they are taking place. I've said too much already.
His eloquent sentence:
"Corn grows in the night." - H.D.Thoreau
Henry is very generous about other people reading his diary, thanks to his publisher, Greg. Explore.
Today, I'm kicking off a new feature -- a very irregularly chosen "What to do With Words Award" for the blog world's writing talents.
The first goes to Iain Manley, co-author of Old World Wandering. Iain and his travel partner Claire go about discovering Europe, and somehow they maintain the discipline to sit down fairly regularly and write about it.
I'm glad they do.
I am calling Old World Wandering a literary blog -- and then secondly a travel blog. That's my interpretation because if you can't travel to see, taste, live another culture, the next best is to read someone else's observations.
Below is a small item plucked from Iain's account of a visit to Rome. He's got plenty of observations about the Fountain of Trevi, the Pantheon and other popular sites...but the paragraph below offers a very quirky picture of his hostel.
If this were a clip from a movie, it'd be early 1950s. Black and white, of course. Behind the camera, Fellini would be yelling out directions to Giulietta Masina, Si?
The incessant “bella, bella, bella” of Miss Italy blared through a small, smoky hall in our hostel, Bella Roma. The competition lasted a week, today it was being contested entirely in bathing suits. Parades of lithe flesh were periodically interrupted for a demonstration of each participant’s talent: twirling a single hula-hoop, playing volleyball, badly, with a bemused judge and clumsy security guards, dancing in a lycra skirt, strapped on for modesty. -- Iain Manley