Blue Sky

Encompassing the mountains, 

Forests of pine trees,

Snow-covered peaks, 

Sunrises like sunsets all

A home to all your sorrows,

Built with many pains

Carved with utmost joy  

A claim to this land

Filled with fallen leaves on the ground,

Healthy crops and plenty of fresh air

Welcomes all the people

Of many cultures of the world

Waiting for a storm, corralled by the mountains,

Brought alive by the wind, nourished by the sea

Meets the gaze of dancing waves,

And revels, never ceases to amaze

Rising with the sun high above the summit

And being so transparent, so supreme

The Blue Sky so ever-present,

So wholesome, so vital, so unseen

Simply and very quietly

Cradles the sleepy boats,

Passes under bridges,

Hikes across the woods

Holds the sun in place

And gently embraces the clouds

to give the wind a rest.

Originally written October 2005

Edited March 2011

Naked Trees

I am fascinated with their shapes

Reaching out to the skies,

Trying to touch the ground,

Void of the green that covered them

Or the blooms that punctuated them

Naked

Exposed

At times covered with white snow and ice,

Some times with moss and often with dew

Resting, hibernating, and getting ready

To go farther

To extend themselves towards the clouds

Definitely towards the sun

Arching and creating cages

Visions of thin needles

Weaving into the forest

Breaking the fabric of the horizon

Piercing the sunset and the moonlight

Branches, born from the trunk of the tree

Naked

Unprotected

Seemingly lifeless

But so alive and so daring

Like swords,

Cutting through the air

Like delicate ornaments

Adorning the hills

And carrying themselves

With grace

With certainty that the green leaves will return

That the blooms will follow

And the gold, red and orange foliage

Will fall again

Before they’re naked

Again.

Alessandra Olmedo

March 21, 2011

Outside, Inside.

Outside of me there’s the world. The sun and the fields, the hills and the roads. The people, the noise of a crowd, the song of a child’s voice. There’s the rain and the snow. The cherry blossoms and the pine cones littered at the feet of the forest.

Outside of me there’s the silence of a quiet moment, sitting by the crackling fireplace. There is also the havoc of a million battles going on in the universe.

Outside of me –but very close- there’s the stinky breath, but unconditional love and slobbery smile of my pup. And also very close the laughter that I share with my friends; the challenging days at work; the long conversations with Mom; the soft touch of the man I love...

But wait.

Inside of me there’s the joy from the warmth of the sun and the joy of the journey through those fields, hills and roads. And the things that I learn from people and the pure innocence of a child’s voice. I also feel the damp of the rain and the cold of the snow inside my bones. And the pink of the cherry blossoms in my heart and the greatness of the forest in my soul.

Inside of me there’s the peace of sitting by the fireplace and the distress of knowing about the battles.

Inside of me there’s absolute adoration for the pup and for Mom and for the man I love. And there’s a sense of belonging thanks to my friends and a sense of purpose from my days at work.

And a poem evolves..."Inhale"

Inhale

Breathe deeply, look up at the sky

Listen

To the silence, scream with the crows

Then run

Spread

The wings of your imagination

Hold the pen

Caress the mind

In this corner of the world

My home

I sit in this light

As I tie a knot to the ground

To the sky

To the earth

And to the shadows of the mountains

The trees, rivers and rocks

To discover what lies ahead

Tracing a path to follow

Finding a mount to climb

A journey with no end.

So I wrote a Poem....

Yes. Last night's session of Creative Writing class was dedicated to poetry and Shauna (Paull, our teacher) said, "At the end of this class you will all have a poem. A 6 line poem". Well, we did.

We actually did two writing exercises. The first one, to just "get going" and I was a little skeptical at first, but it turned out kind of funny. OK. I wouldn't say that it's a poem, but it made me write for 5 minutes straight without putting the pen down -wait, I sipped some coffee as I had had a really long day so I needed caffeine at 8 pm- but still, I wrote for 5 minutes and came up with something relatively coherent. She suggested that we use "I wish", "I wonder", "Once" or "Now" to start a list of things, feelings, etc and that some lines could turn into something, some others would just get discarded. That's one of my problems. I have a hard time letting go of things that I've written. And sometimes, when I go back to first versions of something or a piece that I wrote that I might not have liked at the time I wrote it, I like it and something comes out of it, so my own lesson of the day: never throw out any words away.

The second exercise actually produced the poem. It is interesting -long to explain and I'm too tired tonight so won't go there- but I was frowning and groaning not thinking too much of it and all the other ladies in the class and Shauna liked it. She made a couple of tiny edits and when I read it again, it kind of got me. So here it is:

Breathe deeply, look up at the sky, listen to the silence, scream with the crows, then run...

forming the wings of our imagination, holding a pen, caressing the mind

but not in this corner, my home, I cannot see in this light

only to tie a knot again to the ground, to the sky, to the earth

and shadows of mountains, trees, rivers and rocks

to discover what lies ahead, a path to follow, a mount to climb

a journey with no end.

Fog (2)

Fog

A white wall

A curtain

A misty window

To apparent nothingness

What mysterious wind?

Brought it our way

And why is it so comfortable?

And decided to stay

To linger around

Our harbour, our lakes

Our mountains

Our forests

Our cities and roads

Lie down and rest

We stroll and the distance

Shortens its length

The fog is determined

To wrap around itself

And not let us see

And warn us about

Discovering beauty

In its uncertain haze

In its oblivious face

We breathe and we live

We walk right through it

And the fog seems to look at us

Not disturbed, not concerned

Keeps lazing around

Crowning the treetops

Drowning the light

And the darkness alike

That’s the fog

To onlookers

A capricious girl

A whimsical event

Written and revised between November and December, 2005.

I'm writing...

I'm just being extra critical of my writing and feeling uninspired and lame.

But that happens. And then I'll re-read things when I'm feeling better and I'll actually manage to improve a line or two and magic will happen.

In class, the memories are starting to scare me. I wrote something that made everyone sad and I was choking up when reading it! Something that happened over 30 years ago with a girl in my school. She was really mean to me. The bitch. Funny but I don't even remember the exact details and our teacher suggested to try and write about how I felt and how I handled and I guess, eventually, overcame the situation and I don't really remember. I just know that it hurt me and it affected me tremendously. The best part of it is that it made me confirm a decision about my belief system (or lack thereof) on my own. Totally independent from what I could have seen at home. Maybe I'll post it, but it definitely needs more work.
For now, I will post something about a recurring theme that I love writing about.
Fog.