Sunday, August 16, 2009

Things to see on SJI

There's more to see on San Juan Island than is dreamed of in our philosophies.

This is Mona. Mona loves blackberries. That's Meredith in the background, picking them and in the middle, hoping Mona doesn't try to eat my shirt, is me.


This is the house of a friend of Robin's. He grows bamboo, makes lovely bridges and grows a great garden.
Made the house, too.



Satchmo, will not be seen because we took not a camera on the walk we took that passed his house.
Satchmo is a bear shaped, bear sized and bear colored dog who sometimes accompanies Robin's walks.
Robin has written a poem.

Satchmo

He sits in the road
for I don't know how long
looking at I don't know what.

On my daily walk
I round the corner
and he's sitting there as usual.

Looking right at me,
he begins to wag his tail.
"Hey, Satchmo," I call.

Because he's eleven
it takes a few secs
to heft his 70 or so pounds.

But once up,
he comes exuberating,
full speed, toward me.

If he were a child,
I'd call it "skipping"
If a horse, "prancing".

But he's a dog,
so I say his happy paws
are "exuberating"!

Big, shaggy and black,
except for the tips of his paws,
which are shaggy and white,


he arrives at my feet and sits,
leaning his full bulk
against my right leg.

His thick, bushy tail
swishes back and forth
across my left shoe

as I skritch his ears
crooning to him about
what a good beast he is.

We are together like that
for awhile, just the two of us
along the winding road.

With perfect synchronicity,
we both tire of each other
at about the same time.

Satchmo, with a last glance
at my face and a final swoosh
of his tail, gets up and

saunters across the road
to read the signpost in the grass
and mark that we were there

I continue up the road
not outwardly skipping
but lifting my inner feet,

pleased with the moment,
the road, Satchmo, myself
and life in general.

-Robin Atkins @ 2009.


My sister's dog, Layla, wrote a poem.

I think not too many animals write poems, or if they do, it's about food, killing other species, and doing things in the neighbor's yard.

Layla was of indeterminate parentage but had the coloring, size and personality of a golden lab, as I recall.

Anyway, my sister translated it, and here it is.


TO THE BEACH
by Layla

The Bitch/ Man
Took us to the
Soft ground
and big wet

We did stick
and dig
and bird go
Muppet played bark

Many smells were ours
The moving nothing was cool
and the soft ground
was warm

There were no NO's
and our tongues laughed


Muppet was another dog in the family, looked like a foot stool.
They were both getting along in years and are now ex canis.

Blogging is a snap when somebody does all the work.

7 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Blackberries -
Blackberries -
What more to say -
What more to think -
What more to even dream -

Except perhaps forty gallons of water and a bite of that blue shirt.

Is that a leather belt?

Real Leather?

.......Mona

3:46 PM  
Blogger Robin said...

I'm faster than Glenn today... Ha!

Love Layla's poem! Especially this part:
Soft ground
and big wet

We did stick
and dig
and bird go

Satchmo poem has a typo... should NOT be a comma in middle of poem, line about "His thick bushy tail..." Or if there were a comma, it should be after thick, not bushy. Will you fix it for me, Doug? OK, you can call me a picky-picky poet.... Or for that matter, just a picky-picky person (sounds better).

We had some fun, huh!

3:52 PM  
Blogger Robin said...

Sad to say, Satchmo is not photographic in the usual sense. I've tried. Had to photograph him with words. R

3:53 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Show 'em
the other pictures

blackberries -
blackberries -
on my lips

kiss offered
not accepted
by Meredith

....Mona

3:58 PM  
Blogger Lane Savant said...

Mona, we will be seeing more of you.

4:04 PM  
Blogger Glenn Buttkus said...

Wow and wowzer, what fun was
had by all! The Mona incident, and the Satchmo poem both found
their way to FFTR. Now even
more folks can enjoy the
two phenomonon. The friend's
house is fascinating to look
at, must be a cool guy;
Mr. Natural it seems. One
could write a poem just
looking at the pic. Have to
talk my Miss M into heading
up to SJI one of these week
ends. How were the ferry
lines this time? Janet's
poem for/to Layla started
the whole starting point
of a new genre, DOG POETRY.
I was so moved by it
that I wrote a poem about/by
my pooch Taffy. In the
archives under Dog Poetry
one can find a couple poems
now. I wrote a sad one when
we had to put Taffy down
last year. She was 13. Thank
you so much, Robin, for
contributing one more fine
poem to the lexicon.
Mona is not a bad poet/poetess
either; damned thing how
poetry finds its own level.
I am still finding more
incredible poems from
Scott Malby, the Oregon
teacher/administrator who
is too shy to post a pic
of his own mug. He just
lets his words create the
iconography necessary.
But the most fun of all
for me is to discover
the poetry done by friends,
and to share it with the
multitudes. Watched Spike
Lee's film from last year,
MIRACLE AT ST. ANNA, and
I must say it is much better
than many of the critics
implied or wrote. Quite a
departure for Lee, a film
with most of the story taking
place during WWII, in Italy,
where the black regiments,
the Buffalo Soldiers, were
sent to fight; along with
the Japanese American units.
We were so subtle about those
racial issues back in the
1940's. There was a good
film about the Nissei units
called GO FOR BROKE, done in
the middle 50's, with Van
Johnson. Now that I am
taking Iodine pills, and
have decided that another
focal point for my auto-immune
typhoon is my thyroid, I
continue to feel better.
I used to dream that when
I retired in 2010, the year
we make contact, that my
20 year battle with disability
would ebb, and my health would
return, and I would have
the last laugh; being a wage
slave is bad enough, but to
add physical discomfort to
the mix has been, is quite the
challenge---yeah, yeah, I know,
it didn't kill me, and now
I'm getting stronger. Melva
is gearing up for her next
school year, doing a workshop
today and tomorrow. School
does not start officially I
guess until after Labor Day,
looming large on the wall
calendar.

Glenn

6:05 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hallo, Y'all!
Robin's friend designed a MOST interesting house!! Is it as unique inside as outside??
Tschüß,
Anonomann

9:14 AM  

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