Poetry for The Ages — Robert Burns

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My Mom loved poetry and often tried her hand at some private lines. Robert Burns (1759-1796) was her favorite poet. For some unknown reason, I ended up moving to Vermont and marrying a guy I met there. His name was Burns. Hmmm…

Life is a never-ending trip!

One day recently, I picked up my Mom’s old keepsake poetry book entitled Burn’s Poems and discovered two things. Yes, his name was Burns, so that apostrophe (No. 1) on the title of his book of poems is misplaced ! It should read Burns’ Poems, or Burns’s Poems. That publisher’s (circa 1800s) mistake astounds me; but so does life!

Life is a trip you don’t pack a bag for; you just go with the flow. Best laid plans go asunder…normally.

In the picture (ABOVE), my Mom poses during a camping trip on a picnic bench for Dad, who, yes, inserted the rock under the leg to make it the same length as the others and steady the table! My Dad was our family’s Steady Eddie — always!

In Burns’ book, his poem “My Wife’s A Winsome Wee Thing” was marked by a worn, broken red length of ribbon. The poem says in part:

“She is a winsome wee thing,
She is a handsome wee thing,
She is a bonny wee thing,
This sweet wee wife o’ mine…

…The warld’s (world’s) wrack, we share…

Wi’ her I’ll blithely bear it,
And think my lot divine.”

My Mother’s name was Bonita Jean — Bonny. Life’s a wondrous mystery!

My Dad loved my Mom dearly, and that poem’s thoughts were my Dad’s for my Mom, thus (No. 2) the page remained marked by the little red ribbon throughout my Mother’s life. My Father’s name was Robert.

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Life is never a certainly. It only sends us messages to interpret.

Although my first writing love is Fiction prose, I’ve tried my hand at poetry now and again, too, as my Mother’s daughter at:
http://www.barbwritespoetry.wordpress.com

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Credit:
Family Photos from the personal and copyrighted collection of Barbara Anne Helberg

 

 

 

Say It Like Keats…

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British poet John Keats (1795-1821) was just 25 and  penniless when a lung disease ended his life. He was never married, but Fanny Brawne was the love of his life, and he expressed his love in his letters to her with words that became descriptions of love itself.

Perhaps he spoke for all men in their dreams of a first love when two years before his death, he thusly described his and Fanny’s unending love (BELOW):

“This living hand, now warm and capable
Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold
And in the icy silence of the tomb,
So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights
That thou would wish thine own heart dry of blood
So in my veins red life might stream again,
And thou be conscience-calm’d — see here it is —
I hold it towards you.”

When Keats died away from their family-shared country home, Fanny was so overwhelmed by the news she’d long expected, she completely withdrew from life and never recovered from the anticipated loss.

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Credit:
Photo courtesy of http://www.pixabay.com

 

Gunsmoke Is Comfort Food

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For many Americans of the Baby Boomer generation, the old TV show “Gunsmoke” is “comfort food”, according to statistics in viewing conducted by Robert Seidman, producer of “Sports TV Ratings”.

Seidman created ratings comparisons involving gunning “Gunsmoke” viewership against audiences today that glue themselves to sports debate shows. His conclusion: “With the people who watch ‘Gunsmoke’, there’s just not a lot of stuff they can do that reminds them of what life was like 50 years ago, and for a lot of people I think that’s just comfortable (watching Gunsmoke)”. He explained, “It’s comfort food for certain people…”

Hmmmm…I would say he has a good point. Near 71, I’m an avid “Gunsmoke” fan. And, frankly, my dear reader, modern reality TV has little value, or reality, for me. In contrast, I find real life appeal in the stories of “Gunsmoke”, and those from other shows of the ’50s and ’60s.

But is one’s life all wrapped in what one grew up to learn in a certain time frame?

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Credit:
Photo courtesy of http://www.pixabay.com