Last Sunday was a splendid evening of Arts @ the Aviary. We had 9 adults and three kids here. Well, one of those kids was sleeping, so I guess that doesn’t really count. Three of our guests brought large cases with rather noisy items inside them, and I’m not going to tell you anything about that in this post.
Instead, you get to read some poems that were shared by our friends.
First, a hilarious limerick contributed by Matthew Carey:
There once was a man from Spokane
Whose poems no one could stand.
When he was told this was so, he said,
‘Yes, I know.
But it is because I try to fit too many words into the last line of everything that I write.
Next, a short little offering from Nathan’s dad, Phil.
Insert headshot here. Oops. My search through my computer, revealed that I do not have a good closeup picture of him. Yes, I know I could have gotten a bazillion off of facebook or from Nathan’s computer, but the one I found – below – might be even better (except for the fact that you can’t actually see his face. Minor detail.). It encapsulates three very significant things about my father-in-law. Let me digress…
1) Cider pressing. This pic was taken at the 2011 annual cider pressing event at the Bird home. More info about that will come at some time in the future, but suffice it to say that Phil loves apples, loves cider pressing, and loves to facilitate the whole event for friends and family. Which brings me to…
2) Family. He is surrounded by family and friends all coming together to have fun and work on the common goal of making Bird juice.
3) Photography. By the way, Phil is the one in the back, standing up high to get a good shot of the apple grinder in action. He takes great pictures – has for as long as I’ve known him. In fact, he even took pictures with my camera on Sunday night – another reason why there are none of him.
Without further ado (he did hand motions too, but you’ll just have to imagine that):
If it is in,
or if it is on,
it is as it is,
be it in or on.
And, finally, a poem that singer/song-writer Ry Edwards wrote way back when he was in college.
The Orange PoemI want
to eat an orange
but, I do not
have the timeStill, I wantTo eat the orangeSo, I willpeel it in my mindWaxy, bumpy, bitteris the landscapeof the rindbut, as I diveinto the center,sweet juicesgurgle up divineAnd so, I stripthe fruit for pleasurein some stolen leisure timeI, tear-by-tear,reveal the treasurethat I yearn for to be mineNow, the pulp’slost all protectionsand my mouth waters by designYet, I forget,there are no taste budsin the confines of my mindSo now, my timeIs long forgottenAnd my stomach,Empty stillNow, a true orangetaste is rottenAnd its textureleaves me illHow it soursIn my bellyAnd for hoursgives me chillsTo think that oncethat loathsome jellyFilled my heart with endless thrills…
What a creative bunch of people we are. Everyone is. Go create something.