Angel’s Share Studio

 I spent the past week working with a colleague of mine, Susan Argo, Poet in Residence for the State of Maryland,  with the fourth graders at Bainbridge Elementary School in Cecil  County, Maryland.   Susan is a fairy princess working wonders with young minds.  She called on me last year to join her in one of her schools (again, this was Bainbridge) to work with ‘her’ kids.  I was simply blown away by what the kids were able to produce in just five days of working with Susan.  I was inspired last year to write four poems for the kids at Bainbridge (two appear in my book.)   I was inspired again this year to write two poems for the group.   The following poem resulted from a sadness that welled up in me.  Today’s children are so inundated and preoccupied with TV and video games that they spend little time in the out-of-doors - hearing, smelling, touching, tasting and seeing the wonders of nature and the world around them.  [I recounted my week - two days kayaking with friends and myself,  one evening spent with the Poet Laureate of Maryland, another evening listening to the music of a group of incredible singers from Russia,  and just driving to and from the children’s school (I observed a pileated wood pecker from the school’s parking lot - to a child, they claimed never to have seen a live woodpecker!)  It was then that I wished that I could have each child in my ‘pocket’ for a week or two to observe and experience some of the wonderful things of this world.  Thus the poem -

I Wish I Had You In My Pocket
by H.E. McIntyre, 5/16/08

I wish I had you in my pocket
We’d travel the stars in a man-made rocket
We’d fly to Jupiter - the Milky Way -
And return again some future  day.

But all is not out in the stars
Or planet hopping with stops on Mars
We have the world in which we live
A wonderful place to grow and give.

The wonders of our small  world abound
All one needs is to look around
To see a tree, and hear a bird
To smell a rose - to ‘feel’ a word.

A simple walk around your neighborhood
Not looking for bad but seeing the good
Smiling at a friend who lives next door
Look all around - there’s more - so much  more.

A bird that flies across the sky
Your poet self may ask you why
Birds fly all day and sing their song
Why Christmas Night seems soooo, so long!

Why oil ‘rainbows’ in a spring downpour
Why some things happen and your not sure
If you should laugh or your should cry
Why all that live must surely die.

The world around is a puzzling thing
A smoking man can blow a ring
A clown can make you cry or laugh
Why’s the neck so long on an orange giraffe?

Are clouds flannel or fluffy cotton
Why’s my brother sometimes so rotten?
Why do bears hibernate -
And mothers get mad when you get home late?

If you, like me, wonder about those things
And share the joy that inquiry brings
I think this means that you are alive and well
Use your poet gift - and cast your spell.

If you have anyting to add or a poem to share, please do.  Until next time - lay claim to your muse.   HEM

This is a poem that I submitted and received a second place with in the regional poetry contest sponsored by the Queen Annes County Maryland Arts Council.  The contest was open to residents of Cecil, Kent, Caroline, Queen Annes and Talbot counties - the upper Eastern Shore Counties of Maryland.  (Next week I will post the second poem that I had submitted that received an honorable mention.

   Snow Angels
by H.E. McIntyre 12/05/07

I went to count the birds
The smell of snow was on the air
A damp cold breeze
Chilled my inner core
The clouds restrained
A weakened  winter sun -
A muted moon by day.

At first I did not notice
One, then two then three
Droplets on my viewing scope
And then a thousand more
A major blizzard raged
Within that compressed scene.

The swan that left the Tundra ice
Now greeted falling snow
Welcomed a winter westerly
Comfort from their winter home
Sentinels arose on wide spread wings
To embrace a well-known friend.

Two eagles in a courting dance
Overflew a sea of white
There by choice not chance
They, engaged in nuptial flight,
Gained purchase on the frontal breeze
Soared above snow covered trees.

I gazed in wonder up into the sky
And asked not the reason why
I just enjoyed the smell, the taste
This was no time to wonder, to waste
I lay down softly on the ground
Waved my legs and arms around.

I chuckle as I think on that blustery day
What some stranger might have to say
Of all those angels impressed in snow
Where did they come from and where did they go
Were swan just angels in feathered form
Revealing themselves in winter’s storm?

Have a nice week.  HEM

This is a  poem that I wrote for my dear friend Pie Edwards, a long time waterman.  I thought this to be an appropriate time since we celebrated his 90th birthday last week.  Happy Birthday Pie.

Decking, ramps and sagging rails

Bleached wood weathered by wind and rain

Shorings tested by ice remain

I’d known this pier in younger days

With work boats moored in grand arrays.

Skipjacks, bugeyes and rowing skiffs

From Chester’s waters to Calvert’s cliffs

Steamboats plied the upper bay

In a harsh but gentler day

From dawn to dusk boats worked the scene

The wharf back then was crisp and clean.

A dilapidated wooden shack stood there

On those pilings cracked and bare

A common refuge for anyone

From wind and rain or heat of sun

Waterman sat and checkers played

Telling stories as the old pier swayed.

Most times I’d peak through an old knot hole

Overhearing secrets, lies and tall tales told

I’d almost hear a mumble, then a hearty laugh

I think they knew I hid there and did it on my behalf

Ghosts still haunt my aging memory

Of times gone by when I was young and free.

Of ‘Scratch’ and ‘Hip’, ‘Tater’ and ‘Pie’

They all had sworn they’d never told a willful lie

But I remember the stories and yarns they told

My memory was much better then at eight years old

I still see the flying fishes,

Monsters, mermaids and snickered wishes.

I now stand and watch through tear filled eyes

As a dear old friend is razed and dies

Along with open fields and trees

Once a source of childhood memories

Now tract houses and a shopping mall

A monument to progress for us all.

2/26/06