The Keeping Room: Introducing D.S. Pearson

Monday, March 30, 2009

Introducing D.S. Pearson

The poet is a dear friend. Godfather to my older son. Best man in my wedding.

He has been writing poetry since high school. By permission of the poet, I present to you....

redbird

morose emptiness
is

sometimes rendered

nil

Cardinal

one's windowsill

D.S. Pearson 4-15-08

Paininting by John James Audubon

9 comments:

Delwyn said...: Thanks for introducing your friend and his cardinal,
happy days; March 30, 2009 at 7:32 PM
Tess Kincaid said...: Yes! Rendered nil!

Your blog page is gorgeous!; March 30, 2009 at 9:34 PM
Rowan said...: I've only ever seen photographs of cardinals but I can see they are beautiful, colourful birds which would lift the spirits of anyone who sees them.; March 31, 2009 at 1:21 AM
Unknown said...: Hello FireLight,

Beautifully simple poem. There is a little red and black bird in South Africa that I always loved to see. Can't remember its name just now, so will have to go and look!

Your new look is also super!; March 31, 2009 at 9:01 AM
FireLight said...: Willow & Derrick, thank you! I am learning something new everyday. It was rather dreary here, so I thought I would experiment and tidy things up a bit. My post just prior to this was a mess. I was working on a laptop that was not user friendly for formatting.
Delwyn & Rowan, stay tuned for more poems from D.S.
To all,I greatly appreciate your encouragement.; March 31, 2009 at 10:02 AM
Country Girl said...: I think this poem is quite nice. Your blog looks good this way, too.; March 31, 2009 at 2:49 PM
Michael said...: A simple yet structured poem about that most American of birds...I enjoyed it.

ps tea in a mug with milk please M and a modest slice of Grasmere gingerbread...he he.; April 1, 2009 at 2:22 AM
Tom Atkins said...: You seem to be hitting your stride with this whole blogging thing. It has been good to see it all coming together!; April 1, 2009 at 2:45 PM
Cait O'Connor said...: The poem is simply beautiful.; April 3, 2009 at 2:53 PM

Here is what I often call Crumbly Gingerbread

I found the recipe on a postcard I sent home to a friend when I visited Grasmere in 1986. This is very close to the gingerbread sold at St. Oswald's church there in Grasmere. This is marvelous with your hot tea. The real secret is adding the sugar at the very last-not blending it with the margerine. I use either a fork or pastry blender to "rub" in the margarine with flour and oats. I have copied it as it appeared on the postcard and added my American interpretation of measurements for certain ingredients.

9 oz brown wheatmeal flour
(1 rounded cup wholewheat flour)
3 oz porridge oats
(1/2 cup Three Minute Quaker oats)
3/4 level tsp bicarbonate of soda
1 1/2 level tsp cream of tartar
3 level teaspoons ground ginger
9 oz hard margarine
(1 to 1 1/2 sticks od Parkay-the less you use, the more crumbly the texture)
9 oz soft brown sugar
(1 rounded cup)

Set oven to 325 degrees or Mark 3. Well grease a shallow tin 14" by 9". Put flour, oats, bicarbonate of soda, cream of tartar, and ginger in a bowl. Add the margarine cut into small pieces. Rub in well with fingertips until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Stir in sugar. Put into tin and press down firmly with a floured fork. Bake for 20 to 30 minutes until pale brown. Cut into squares whilst warm and leave in tin until completely cold. Keeps well in airtight tin.

The Secret Heart

Here is my Valentine to every parent who remembers looking on a sleeping child...and lingering in the moment....
Enjoy & linger,
Firelight

by Robert P. Tristram Coffin

Across the years he could recall
His father one way best of all.
In the stillest hour of night
The boy awakened to a light.

Half in dreams, he saw his sire
With his great hands full of fire.
The man had struck a match to see
If his son slept peacefully.

He held his palms each side the spark
His love had kindled in the dark.
His two hands were curved apart
In the semblance of a heart.

He wore, it seemed to his small son,
A bare heart on his hidden one,
A heart that gave out such a glow
No son awake could bear to know.

It showed a look upon a face
Too tender for the day to trace.
One instant, it lit all about,
And then the secret heart went out.

But it shone long enough for one
To know that hands held up the sun.

May 20th is the 400th Anniversary of the Publication of Shakespeare's Sonnets: Sonnet 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! It is an ever fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
William Shakespeare

Monday, March 30, 2009

Introducing D.S. Pearson

9 comments:

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