by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Because this night
is so cold and beautiful
with a thin-lipped moon
just above the horizon,
we will walk the road.
The road over there–
that is waiting,
the one that climbs
up into the Zuni Mountains.
A man once said
that my poems
were only scratches on paper.
The light is getting late,
and the dogs are anxious.
The poems are waiting out there
in the wildness
to say and be,
themselves.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
A pastel by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Filed under Art, Art by Ethel Mortenson Davis, Ethel Mortenson Davis
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
There is a place
on the high desert
where the sky
kneels down
and talks (with the people),
and where the blue mountains
pull them up to its heart—
where each one
has a place,
and no one
is left behind,
a place of little water,
where each cup
is drunk with gratitude—
and where children
on the school bus
stand and applaud
when the ditches
are running with water,
or when the mountain is white
in the morning
from last night’s
surprise spring snow.
Note: The Zuni people are a Pueblo Nation living in western New Mexico. This poem came from a story told by John Carter North at the Inscription Rock Trading Post poetry group meetings on Sunday morning.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
The threatening trees
by day
turned at night
to dancers round a fire,
the moon so bright
it made a jar-like sky
clear and empty,
a dance of life
with turning hypnotism,
patterned movements,
rushing fire-sparks.
The trees bent,
turning with the fire-moon,
all moving
on the breath of the wind,
fire and dancers
united
into an upward-moving flame.
The moon danced.
The trees shined.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
The desert tarantula
ambles across
the roadways
and wide open lands
in late summer
when the monsoons
are done,
during the mating season.
Perhaps
they can show
us how to put
our ladders against
the sky
so we can climb
out of this place,
ladders made
of silk and that hang
on nothing, so
we can climb
out of our hole.
I get close
to one tarantula
but he gets
in his warrior stance,
ready to strike.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
For my final journey
I would like to take
a sleigh ride
through snow-laden roads
where branches are bent low,
a ride
behind a matched pair
of Belgian horses
whose gait becomes regal
when they begin to trot,
and bells on black harnesses
make music with the dance.
You came that day
with horses and a stoneboat
to pick us up at school.
All that day it snowed,
and at noon we ate our soup in jars
warmed on the wood stove.
You took our cousins home,
your brother’s–the one
you never saw eye to eye with–
and dropped them
within a quarter of a mile
of their house.
The stoneboat became
a glider on top of the snow,
and at home you left it behind
the shed until spring
and rock-picking time
when the earth heaves up rocks,
and we heaved up stones
too heavy for girls
on to the stoneboat.
For my final journey
I would like to take
a sleigh ride
behind two Belgians.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Light is returned to light
on the high desert.
December’s darkness
never reaches the ground
like in the northern regions.
The north,
where once snow drifted
over tops of fences
and cold nights turned drifts
into white, frozen dunes
solid enough to support
the weight of a young girl and her dog
as she ran to celebrate
new-found freedom.
It was here,
near the southern corner of the field,
where she saw the great snowy owl.
He dipped down to her level,
scrutinizing her
with piercing yellow eyes.
She felt both fear and amazement
as the great white body
brushed near her face,
close enough to see the black spots
on his white feathers.
Now we roll the darkness
with our feet
into the fire,
amazed by the brilliance
of the light.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
At this point Ethel and I are overwhelmed with awards. When you are nominated for an award the honor is deeper than you really deserve. I try to spend part of most days looking for new poets and artists, and when Ethel and I find one our reaction is, Ahhh, so this is what the publishing world missed in its competitiveness! Just think about how many unsung geniuses have existed since humankind discovered painting, song, and literature. The blog world is wonderful because it shares the hearts, spirits, and trying of beginners, those beginning to find their skill, journeymen, and masters, and it does so, as it does with these awards, by passing praise on, building strengths rather than concentrating on weaknesses. A creative explosion is inevitable, and this explosion has led to the creation of a river of creativity larger than the great Mississippi, and the truth is that we are only a small raft on that river, but we thank those who have nominated us and rejoice in their work.
The Versatile Blogger:
1. You must give credit to the person that has nominated you and create a link to their blog in your post.
2. You must create a list of 15 blogs that you enjoy most and link to those as well. Then you must go and tell them you have nominated them. That means if you do not have 15, you cannot do this step. If you do not complete this step, then you cannot claim this award.
3. Finally, you must create a list of seven things about yourself.
Those who have nominated Four Windows Press: Caddo Veil, whose spirit shines through her writing like sunlight on new fallen snow and Heather Whitley Gibson, who is beyond versatile, writing poetry and songs, creating art, and taking photographs that can send you away from a winter storm into another place altogether.
The Kreativ Blogger Award:
For this award Ethel and I have to share 10 things that you may not know. Then we have to pass the award on to at least six (or more) other bloggers.
Those who nominated for windows press: Scriptor Obscura, who deserves fame and fortune as a writer and poet and Slowmoto.Me, whose photographs stun you and poetry moves you the way poetry should move you.
Bloggers for the Versatile Blogger:
1. http://johnstevensjs.wordpress.com
2. gonecyclingagain.wordpress.com
3. fromaflower.wordpress.com
4. sfederle.wordpress.com
5. poeticlicensee.wordpress.com
6. skyraft.wordpress.com
7. ebbtide.wordpress.com
8. bardessdmdenton.wordpress.com
9. creativityaroused.wordpress.com
10. inaweblogisback.wordpress.com
11. erikamossgordon.wordpress.com
12. davidreidart.wordpress.com
13. bennaga.wordpress.com
14. tikarmavodicka.wordpress.com
15. southernmusings.wordpress.com
Bloggers for the Kreative Blogger Award:
1. raindancepoetry.wordpress.com
2. extrasimile.wordpress.com
3. belfastdavid.wordpress.com
4. thebackgroundstory.com
5. tasmith1122.wordpress.com
6. fewhitehead.wordpress.com
These are certainly not all the fine poets, artists, and photographers on wordpress we enjoy, but it is a good sample. Ten things about Ethel and I you may not know:
1. We raised three children and have four grandchildren
2. Ethel was raised on a dairy farm near Wausau, Wisconsin
3. Thomas (Tom) was born in Delta, Colorado and mostly grew up in Grand Junction, Colorado
4. Ethel is an artist as a cook as well as being a wonderful poet and artist
5. Tom is the Dean of Instruction at Navajo Technical College in New Mexico in the Navajo Nation and has been President of two tribal colleges, the co-founder of one, and the Dean and Acting President of another
6. Ethel loves animals with a deep and abiding passion and has been close to rattlesnakes, bears, both bald and golden eagles, and Minnesota wolves, among a long list of others, in the wild
7. Tom is well known in the world of high performance computing and technology and has written a scholarly book on sustainable development
8. We were married in Grand Junction on Christmas day because it was the only time both of us could get off at the time—44 years ago this Christmas day
9. Our house has books on shelves in every room, and we have read every one of the books in the house over the years
10. Ethel studied art at the University of Wisconsin-Madison and Tom did his studies at the University of Wisconsin-Oshkosh and the University of Wisconsin-Green Bay in English, History, and Environmental Science and Policy
Filed under Essays, Ethel Mortenson Davis, Thomas Davis
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
I remember
how the winter days
had to be just right,
shining-cold
without a sign of wind,
to get the ponds like glass
and how we shined the glass
beneath the snow
to look at giant seas
caught under the ice
by some surprise glacier.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
Ethel’s new book, White Ermine Across Her Shoulders is available now at Barnes and Noble and other online retailers:
White Ermine Across Her Shoulders has all the elements expected by
readers of Ethel Mortenson Davis’s poetry. The lines are highly imagistic
and intense. Descriptions of the earth’s beauty are intermingled with
comments, sometimes caustic, about the human experience. Often a
music rises that is both emotional and filled with language and insights
that remain in the memory long after the book has been put down. This,
Davis’s second volume, speaks eloquently about Kevin Michael Davis, her
son who died of cancer in 2010 in Poughkeepsie, NY, and touches on other
family relationships, making some of the poems more personal than those
she has published before. These poems are balanced with an understanding
of the universe and all of its creatures that encompasses both delight and
wisdom. What makes this collection appealing is an intellectual depth that
resonates, in the way of Emily Dickenson, with the imagistic and emotional
core that has always been a hallmark of Davis’s poetry.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry, Published Books
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