Except as noted, all images copyrighted by and should be attributed to E B Hawley.
I had become many eons ago a traveling literary gnome, inquisitive about places I had and had not visited,
walking the same paths of peoples from the past, through places once grand and still grand,
photographing images that now show me the places about which I still dream . . .

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Poetry: Joys of Nature

      I wrote the prose poem below for this week's class with Professor Matthew. I based the subject on a story told by a friend recently about her experience with the study of butterflies and her children. The story she told reminded me of the balance in nature: It is beautiful and yet it is ugly, too.


The Joys of Nature

     The two snot-nosed children seemed entranced by the story about the chrysalis. Their eyes lit up when I told them that a worm lived inside there, and that soon it would open a hole and crawl out as if opening a window. Their little jaws dropped when the caterpillar, green with yellow spiracles, emerged from its white, silky home and waved at them. It kept waving at them as it ate all my dillweed, dill sticking out the sides of its mandibles, a look of glee in its eyes as it looked at the two children. It smiled so much that it developed crow's feet around its eyes. And then the two children started jumping up and down when the caterpillar morphed into a butterfly. They spread their arms as the butterfly spread its wings. When it took off, they tried to fly away with it. Then, bless their hearts, all their little hearts, a flycatcher swooped down from the tree, caught the butterfly, and left.
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Let Lovely Turn of Phrase Begin

JMHawley Gave Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On

Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.