At this year’s TEDxBoise, David Rush broke three Guinness World Records—his 98th, 99th, and 100th—on stage. The records, respectively, involved catching Ping-Pong balls with chopsticks; the very fast passing of a 20-pound weight between his left and right hand; and a mouthful of a hundred lit candles. It was mesmerizing, and I loved when David connected these records beyond their act of accomplishment—that his whole quest is one of perseverance, to inspire people to do the thing (however big or small) that they think they cannot do.
The Stranger: David
The Word: Persevere
The poem I wrote:
On the day of rising
there were yellow flowers
everywhere. My father
held yellow flowers in each
arm, like holding two
moons. The storm had
passed, all that was electric
had persevered and at last
gone away. All I could do
was to look at the sky.
A longhaired woman
stepped out of the grass
and handed me a rock.
Painted on its face,
a yellow flower.
The Challenge: Do you have a poem in you on this word? Write one here.
April 24, 2019 at 4:04 pm
My Son, Laughing
I plan to visit a black hole
where all that light that can’t escape
will shine my spirit
quicken my gait
grow sweet corn in my pocket.
I’ll invite my son,
he’s the one
with a grin and
magnifying glass,
curious about how
things come apart,
quick to feel the trap of
a perfect bright world,
and laugh.
He wont be burning ants,
but he will persevere
until a tiny spot gets hot,
and starts to smoke.
Soon enough, starlight
will break out,
streak across that black ocean
with laughter
in the wake.
April 25, 2019 at 7:34 am
Fire Ants are the Devil
Broadcast granules do absolutely no good –
not delivering death as Bengal’s powder could.
Devil ants – worse than Fibonacci rabbits –
set world records in their multiplying habits.
Armed with a round container of Ultra Dust x2
she creeps lightly across the fast-fading dew.
A sprinkle here
A sprinkle there
Hills are covered in a light dusting like new-fallen snow –
those fire-red ants tunnel wildly around and never know!
Each morning she will continue to persevere
until, at last, there are no more angry ants here.
April 25, 2019 at 10:59 am
A Time of My Own Choosing…
By my own hand, at the time of my own choosing,
I will leave this life. I’ll be winning more than losing.
That time may be coming. Ever it draws nearer
As if it is a summoning. No reason I should fear.
They say to gird your loins. One has a need to prepare.
Also, count your coins to see how much is there.
It will be a challenge, knowing when it’s time,
Before all lucidity is spent as if it’s my last dime.
I don’t want to suffer or have others suffer me
In pain, demented, pissing, drooling– My loss of dignity.
I saw my parents go– Their leaves drifting from their tree,
Piece by piece, you know. In the breeze, reality.
We did the best we could in finding the best care
For second childhoods with the moments we could spare.
How could we do enough? There is no fending fate.
I’ll always feel inadequate. Did too little much too late.
I know I feel shame, though I did all that I could do,
But I’ll always ask myself if that is really true.
There must have been something more. Could I have bought a day, a month or two,
Fended off the Reaper from taking what was due?
I know the depth of what I’m feeling, my manifested grief,
Is a measure of my love and frustrated disbelief.
No, this is not my threnody or time for a lament.
I’ll persevere a while. My time has not been spent.
I looked underneath my eyelid for my expiration date.
It only says “not now.” To live remains my fate.
But know that, by my own hand, It may come as thus
And at the time of my own choosing, unless I’m run over by a bus…
April 28, 2019 at 6:51 pm
Dandelions
Dandelions hunch into tap roots,
backs curled against the snow,
as I dance in my kitchen
with the blinds closed.
Spring, now, and I step out barefoot
Into a field of tiny suns,
decadent and erratic.
Having persevered through their dark night
They are all sunshine and smiles.
“Weed” depicts desire, not worth, I tell them.
You are welcome here.
They beam and blossom into a sea of wishes,
Floating magic into the sky.
April 30, 2019 at 10:31 am
High in an elm tree
A night heron perseveres
To nest in strong wind