Waterlily Rose Maiden

Waterlily Rose Maiden
Verse one from my sonnet to our infant daughter, Mary Therese Sachteleben who passed into the arms of Jesus on Jan. 5, 2001.

her eyes, green-gray still waters, do not cry
not mirror nor window of soul-dark spaces,
guardians hold prisoner, secrets shy
in soft tranquil deep and twilight traces

  her skin, like dogwood blossoms translucent
  rose petal fair and water-lily pale
  heaven-bound as nimbus, storm-cloud spent

  fresh as a lamb, nested quiet in vale
  no tears descend this tender, pallid cheek
  no sorrow escapes this unworldly maid

  no companion shares nor solace does seek
  perfect in slumber, unmoving and staid
  Silent in her grave, somber and death-cold
  Never feels pain, nor mother-arms enfold.

Lawns get literary on Athens tour - Decaturdaily.com

This venue, a fund-raiser for the Athens-Limestone Public Library in Decatur, Alabama, features poetry readings and garden tours at local homes in the area. I discovered, quite by accident, that my poem 'Trillium and Pine' will be featured. Here is the quote from the Decature Daily:

This Literary Lawns Garden Tour will include the “Passover Blessing” at 260 Brookwood Road, home of Mary and Joe Stephenson; “Bonsai Haiku” at 206 Shady Lane, home of Amy and Jimmy Woodroof; “Waters by Night,” the home of Jackie and Fred Bickley at 202 Shady Lane; the home of Barry Davis, at 107 Shady Lane, reflects “Emerson and Thoreau”; the home of Virginia and Theo Calvin at 200 Shady Lane is reminiscent of one of my favorites, Frances Hodgson Burnett’s “A Secret Garden;” and thoughts of “Trillium and Pine,” a poem by Marilisa Sachteleben, can be found at 271 Brookwood Road, the home of Cindy and Jerry Evans.

Here is a reprint of my 'Trillium and Pine'

warm wine glow
tranquility flow
trillium and pine
rthym and rhyme

some things to grow
some to let go
sad memory time
drink blood red wine

feel the days go
rain and then snow
warm summer wine
rosemary and time

good with the bad
happy i've had
time upon time
blessed be mine

up one steep hill
some remain still
rest in the vale
tell of the tale

mem'ry is song
singing along
verse and refrain
of lyrical pain

say what you will
life's a bitter pill
swallow it fast
don't let it last

smile at the dark
hold fast on the mark
what's dim in the night
twill clear with the light

you don't understand
you don't see the plan
don't fear what's not clear
hold onto what's dear

what you cannot see
may not really be
no menace to make
no dark shadow take

the trillium still blooms
in deep new-spring gloom
white as a maid
born in the shade

warm autumn wine
tho blood red, be thine
now is the time
for reason and rhyme
trillium and pine

~marilisa 10/22/09

Lawns get literary on Athens tour - Decaturdaily.com

Big Lake Poems: Acorn benediction and Oak Leaf offertory

November fall leaf funerals

grampa in flannel coat and ear-flap cap

me in fur-trimmed jacket and pom-pom hat

big rake and little rake

26 trees in grampa's yard  

oaks with crunchy-crisp fall-down-brown leaves  

and thousands of acorns

kept us and squirrels hunting and gathering

grampa boasting with neighbor  

of how many bags each would offer 

on his autumn harvest pyre

each secretly sure his sacrifice would please most

On cracked cement altar  

leaves piled ceremoniously high  

consumed in flame under watchful eye  

of grampa against shifting winds

leaves to ashes, ashes to dust

pom-pom clad mourner bids farewell

rest in peace, rainbow friends

to nourish next year's soil

but acorns were not burned

acorns explode sending out soul sparks

that singe unwary watchers

their little selves spared, but only for autumn-greedy squirrels

close my eyes and i can smell

oak-leaf incense from ritual burning

hanging heavy-hazy under leaden November clouds 

sharp, sad fire-fall fragrance

summer oak bounty smoldering

on heaps of crimson and ash

tolling Indian summer death knell

somber scent of endings and good-bye

  

  

Big Lake Poems: Pink Pickable Ladyslippers

Pink Pickable Ladyslippers
This one is from The Big Lake Poems anthology. The Lake Michigan dunes flora decorated my growing up and has inspired these poems. This one is about lady slippers, childhood and big life choices.

i wasn't to pick the lady slippers

that much was clear

but they are so pickable and plus i WANT to

i whined to grampa

as we walked to Lake Michigan

through the woods of the backdune

where their precious lady slipper

grew just to taunt me

let them grow he said

if you pick them, no one else can enjoy them

i didn't see that as my problem

there was no one around to see them anyway

Besides he said they are protected

its illegal to pick the lady slipper.

illegal, humph i scuffed my feet and scoffed

(not really seeing that as my problem either)

pick up your feet, you'll ruin your shoes

he smiled over his shoulder 

to where I lagging and still slightly scuffing 

Also if you pick the lady slippers, they can't grow.

he had me there

other people not seeing flowers

did not in the least bother 

a selfish four year old girl

going to jail for picking a flower

did worry me a bit

not about breaking laws

only whether i could bring my toys

but to be responsible for the murder of flower?

now that was troubling

if i should pick her

she would wither and die

her pretty pink blossoms shaped like fairy pointe shoes?

little flowers that never hurt anyone 

whose sole job was to make the forest nice

i decided to leave the lady slipper to her work and announced this to grampa

grampa in his plaid flannel coat

took his less-selfish little girl's hand

in his big printers ink stained one

and we walked home, we two, content in our company

Big Lake Poems: Trillium and Pine

I'm creating a volume of poetry that I call 'The Big Lake Anthology' about my life and memories growing up near Lake Michigan, or The Big Lake as we called it. This one 'Trillium and Pine' is centered around a white tri-petaled flower, also known as grandiflorum, native to Michigan's old-growth forests and protected by the DNR. This early spring blossom is welcomed every year with a festival in my home town. Some trillium are red and so my poem reflects those species in metaphor. It also celebrates the short lives of my two infant daughters, deceased at birth, Mary Therese and Isobella Raine Sachteleben.

warm wine glow
tranquility flow
trillium and pine
rhythm and rhyme

good with the bad
happy I've had
time upon thyme
trillium white wine

from flower bower 

then turns the hour

up a steep hill
some remain still

some things to grow
some to let go

rest in the vale
tell of the tale

sad winter time

crusted in tear-salt rime

gall bitter vine

blood red wine

mem'ry is song
singing along
verse and refrain
of lyric-ripe pain

sing to the dark
cling to the mark
libate the night

drink to the light

feel the days go
rain and then snow
fresh summer wine
rosemary and time

the trillium still bloom
in deep new-spring gloom
white as a maid
born in the shade

pine stands true
ever green-blue
withstanding the pain
shining the in the rain

warm autumn wine
golden twilight, thine
now is the time
for reason and rhyme
trillium and pine.

Big Lake Poems: Lily- Laced Walks

Lily-of-the-Valley grew along Grandpa's walk

Tiny white bell-blossoms with breath of heaven scent.

He pruned the yard but let the lilies engulf the path.

Sometimes you had to skirt them and walk on the grass.

Grandma had Lily-of the Valley in her wedding bouquet.

It cost twelve dollars for a dozen in 1935.

It was the Great Depression and that was a fortune

but she wanted them so he got them.

I have an old photo of her at the altar

It's a black and white, painted on the back for color.

they did things like that back then

She's holding the lovely lilies and she is lovelier 

I guess lily-of-the valley are weeds

I didn't know that. He told me so, my husband

They grew in the motor-oil soil of the alley behind his growing up house.

Some even snuck under the chain link fence and his mother would root them out.

 

I grew up with stories of

dollar a piece lilies in bridal bouquets.

I thought everyone felt that way about them. 

these wee white wedding bells

 There are ancient lily-of the-valley

 lining the crumbling walks of our now house

 Planted when the city was just a stop

 on the interurban to Grand Rapids.

Someone talked of digging them up when we moved in

"you won't want them, we feel sure"

I protested, let them grow and he agreed

One woman's weed is another's wedding bower

It's 20 years now.

Grandpa's lily laced walks 

have new people living within them

I dream I'm back there every night

The lily bride and her slender-pale groom

have been in their graves for nearly the same

their lives long and full

but no less painful the passing for the length of sojourn

My groom gathers our lilies in spring

and puts them in a vase 

that my grandmother gave me

how we miss those silly romantics who wasted two weeks pay on weeds