Tonight’s a Good Night for Shooting Stars
Tonight is a good night to see shooting stars of the Perseid Meteor shower (pictured) because the new moon allows them to be seen.
We’re heading out away from the foggy coast and the city’s lights to some desert dark clear air to catch some shooting stars, to make some wishes, and to talk to the ancestors. My ethnic heritage includes the Native American tribes of Cherokee, Chickasaw and Choctaw. Many Native Americans saw the stars as their ancestors, looking down on them, offering them guidance in the dark.
I hope you too get a chance to do some star gazing; you will probably get to wish on some shooting stars tonight too.
The accompanying image and text comes from APOD which offers an astronomical photo a day.
Raining Perseids
Credit & Copyright: Fred Bruenjes
Explanation: Tonight is a good night to see meteors. Comet dust will rain down on planet Earth, streaking through dark skies in the annual Perseid meteor shower. While enjoying the anticipated space weather, astronomer Fred Bruenjes recorded a series of many 30 second long exposures spanning about six hours on the night of 2004 August 11/12 using a wide angle lens. Combining those frames which captured meteor flashes, he produced this dramatic view of the Perseids of summer. Although the comet dust particles are traveling parallel to each other, the resulting shower meteors clearly seem to radiate from a single point on the sky in the eponymous constellation Perseus. The radiant effect is due to perspective, as the parallel tracks appear to converge at a distance. Bruenjes notes that there are 51 Perseid meteors in the composite image, including one seen nearly head-on.
Suzanne Paquette Lawrence
A talented writer, charismatic performer, devoted historian, committed volunteer, and dedicated mother to her three children and seven grandchildren, Suzanne Lee Paquette Lawrence inspired her family, friends, colleagues, and community throughout her life with her actions, her intellect, and her quick wit.
Passionate about her research into the history of the Bible and of Ventura County, Suzanne enjoyed sharing what she learned through classes she taught and living history performances she gave.
Suzanne loved art, nasturtiums, and cats, especially her tabby Gracie, and a good heirloom tomato BLT. We will all miss her very much.
Yesterday was my mom Suzanne Lawrence’s Celebration of Life Memorial Service. She liked my 3:15 Experiment poetry so it seemed fitting to read work I composed at 3:15am. I also composed her bio on the program above, worked with the newspaper reporter for this article on Suzanne Lawrence, and wrote her obituary. Below are links to the pieces that I read in the order I read them. I started with something I’d written that night, August 8, 2010 at 3:15, read two older pieces, then read two I wrote this past week.
August 8, 20103:15 Experiment Poetry: for my mom’s memorial
May 12, 2008 3:15am poem for my mother’s birthday
January 1, 2008 If I Died at 55: 315 Experiment Poem 8/12/05
August 2, 2010 3:15 Experiment Poetry: August 1, 2010–a poem for my mother
August 4, 20103:15 Experiment Poetry 2010: She like them
January 28, 2008hands: 315 experiment poem 8/25/06)
3:15 Experiment Poetry: for my mom’s memorial
Poetry from the 3:15 Experiment
August 8, 2010
Today is my mom’s memorial.
It’s been 10 days since she passed away
and each day it’s as unbelievable
as the last that she has died
and that we are celebrating her life
and not her birthday today.
This week has been spent on words for her
finding the right words to describe her life
for the death certificate, newspaper,
obituary, this program.
The words stick in my throat
and the more that I grapple with them
the more it seems I should understand
her life and what to say about it.
But it doesn’t feel that way.
I lost two friends and writing colleagues
in 24 hours–my mother, Suzanne Lawrence
and my friend Paul Squires.
The loss of my readers
two people I regularly turned to
for feedback on my writing
for encouragement & advice
I have felt acutely this week as
I struggled with this greatest writing challenge.
The day she died, I told her about Paul and I wanted to
share his last poem with her, Gene Kelly Tattoo
Last Friday night, when I realized that my mother has passed away
the words of the Irish playwright John Millington Synge
from his classic tragedy “Riders to the Sea”
came to mind:
“No man at all can be living
forever, and we must be satisfied.”
It is hard to be satisfied
when my mom had so much to give
we all want more.
And that is how I realized how well
my mom embodied the late fragment
written by American poet and short story author Ray Carver:
And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.
She truly was beloved on this earth.
This may not have been how she saw herself
but it is how we saw her, how we knew her.
Since 2001, I have been waking up
every night in August at 3:15am
to write as part of an international
conceptual poetry event called the 3:15 Experiment.
I have written often about my mother
and this past week is no exception.
I wrote what I am reading now at 3:15am
in the cold foggy dark of a summer night.
I have shared some of these poems here
& if I can I’d like to read a few now.
3:15 Experiment Poetry 2010: sleep escapes me
Poetry from the 3:15 Experiment 2010
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Sleep largely escapes me:
Late nights. Early mornings.
The neighbor dog’s incessant barking.
The night terrors. The shocking dreams.
brings my sleep
to its knees.
Worst of all
biggest traitor to my sleep
is grief.
Grief stumbles about wildly
like a bull in a China shop
shatters the fragile nature of peaceful nights
guarantees exhausted days
eyes weary & gritty from sand paper tears
new lines formed from down turned smiles
a knot in my throat the size of Tennessee.
I’ve been doing the 3:15 Experiment since 2001. Most years, I follow the rules and I don’t look at what I’ve written until the month is over. This year, my mother died July 30, the night before this year’s experiment was to begin, so I decided to post some of those 3:15 poems as they are written.
3:15 Experiment Poetry 2010: new museum
Poetry from the 3:15 Experiment
August 6, 2010
Last First Friday, July’s First Friday
the newly remodeled museum opened
& the local glitterati gathered there
in the new courtyard beyond
the new wall of waterfall
as we rode past on our bicycles.
Let’s ride in someone suggested.
I laughed. Our group was
dressed as Ventucky Vice
lots of white coats & white shirts
squirt guns instead of metal ones
On behalf of my mom,
I went yesterday to arrange
her memorial–how to
know about flowers, and not
when we don’t know about the place?
We met more people there
and I
walked out immediately
The familiar off-gassy new carpet smell
had already coated my tongue.
Nephew Kyle suggested we all just
walk to Green Art People &
do ti there logistically
of course that wouldn’t works so
we came up with a plan
for Sunday.
And today for FF
we will ride our chariots
our horse, our bicycles
proudly by it.
I’ve been doing the 3:15 Experiment since 2001. Most years, I follow the rules and I don’t look at what I’ve written until the month is over. This year, my mother died July 30, the night before this year’s experiment was to begin, so I decided to post some of those 3:15 poems as they are written.
The memorial service will be help at the Ventura County Museum 100 E. Main, Ventura, at 2pm. I’ve been encouraging people to ride their bicycles there.
Listen.
Paul Squires aka GingaTao is my favorite poet of the bloggosphere, and one of my favorite poets ever. I was reeling with news of his accidental death at 46 last week when, less than 24 later, my mother, Suzanne Lawrence died. Both deaths are shocking, unexpected, too soon: they had so much to give to the world still.
I love his poem “Listen” so much that I am hoping to share it somehow at my mother’s Celebration of Life on Sunday at the Ventura County Museum; Below is a link to a podcast of one of my favorite poems of Paul’s; I love hearing him read it. Here’s a link to the text of the poem.
via gingatao
3:15 Experiment Poetry 2010: with a bang
Poetry from the 3:15 Experiment
Th. August 5, 2010: with a bang
The Ventura County Fair
opened today with its usual
bang
The opening salvos
of fireworks surprised us.
Tonight’s thick fog gave the explosions
a haunting echo
BANG ity bang
We didn’t rush out to see them
The fog would dull their fire
The trees have grown
and block the view.
But really I was feeling tired
& trying to remember if the fireworks
could be seen from the deck
of my mom’s
trying to remember if my
mom had watched them
and knowing that I
couldn’t call &
ask her
I’ve been doing the 3:15 Experiment since 2001. Most years, I follow the rules and I don’t look at what I’ve written until the month is over. This year, my mother died July 30, the night before this year’s experiment was to begin, so I decided to post some of those 3:15 poems as they are written.
3:15 Experiment Poetry 2010: She like them
A Poem from the 3:15 Experiment
August 4, 2010
Gardening. Night blooming jasmine.
Cecil Bruners roses. Begonias.
Nasturtiums. Sweetpeas.
These were a few of my mother’s favorite flowers.
She like them had a strong sense of smell
my mother
Hated cilantro. Complained about it
vehemently.
I bought 3 gardenia plants last year
gave her one. Mine are blooming
but she seems to have lost
hers, lost it to her
brown thumb
She had no patience for
growing things
the simple joys of gardening
that claimed her grandmother
& her father & her daughter
as ardent practitioners
was not for her
She preferred someone else
to grow her blue cherokee tomatoes
crookneck squash
sweet smelling flowers
and so I did
It was beyond her why
I bothered to plant & grow cilantro
that effort better spent
elsewhere growing what
she appreciated:
night blooming jasmine
sweet peas
nasturtiums
I’ve been doing the 3:15 Experiment since 2001. Most years, I follow the rules and I don’t look at what I’ve written until the month is over. This year, my mother died July 30, the night before this year’s experiment was to begin, so I decided to post some of my 3:15 poems as they are written.
3:15 Poetry Experiment 2010: it’s hard
Monday August 3, 2010 3:15am
It’s hard to get motivated
to get up and write.
I just want to roll over
keep the lights off
go back to sleep.
The pen is awkward in my hand.
The words lost before they are formed.
The depth of my tiredness can not be measured.
The effort to put pen to page
rolls rocks up Mount Olympus.
There is no excuse
not to try tonight
so go words
I’ve been doing the 3:15 Experiment since 2001. Most years, I follow the rules and I don’t look at what I’ve written until the month is over. This year, my mother died July 30, the night before this year’s experiment was to begin, so I decided to post some of those 3:15 poems that are connected to my mother as they are written.
3:15 Experiment Poetry: August 1, 2010–a poem for my mother
August 1, 2010 3:15am
a poem for my mother
Unexpected and sudden.
That’s how I describe how
my mom died last night
Friday night July 30.
Now it is
the middle of
the night
& barely morning
and I am
wide awake
with my loss.
Usually this time of year
I am composing a
birthday card for her–
73 this year.
Instead I brought her present
to her empty house
to her empty house
filled with her family.
My mom loved
nasturtiums
deep reds & oranges especially
she marveled at the variety & color
did you see that one
she’d say
oh that’s scrumptious.
That was the color
of her front door
of her garage door
the greens of a
avocado inside and out
flesh and bones.
She lived in the
converted garage
of her parents house
even after they died
she preferred that
over their bedrooms
which she rented out to make
ends meet.
There is too much to say
and all of it inadequate
So I am trying to tell you
about the birthday present
I couldn’t give her:
The woven bedspread
the color of nasturtiums
my sister & I
laid on her empty bed
yesterday
It was perfect
she would have loved it
and it makes her bed
seem less empty
by Gwendolyn Alley
This poem is dedicated to my mother Suzanne Lawrence who passed away Friday, July 30, 2010.
Since Nov. 2007, I have publish poetry most Mondays, mostly my own but sometimes by others. For poetry by other bloggers, check out the Poetry Train.
art predator 