Category: Poetry

My Penny is Worth a Million Bucks

On By Anna EastlandIn Friendship, motherhood, PoetryLeave a comment

Some people think they know about pennies…
shiny bright little things that make children happy

and help them dream dreams of being big,

the kind of thing you carry in your pocket

just for luck.


But they know nothing of richness

of real treasure

unless they know my Penny. 


My Penny is worth a million bucks.


She is the kind one whose eyes I can see twinkle 

even over the phone as I call, yet again, to say,

“So, are you bored without me?”


She is the one who makes me tea 

when I arrive in a fluster 

of post-transit with kids business

and sit my big belly down

in the office sofa seat.


She is the one who knows,

(6 babies later)

everything about me,

and with her magic spinning wheel

tells me when the latest Eastland will arrive. 


She is the one who gives the kids stickers—

their favourite part—

besides getting to push the Doppler button

and hearing the new babies heartbeat,

and certainly reason enough

for them to request a new sibling

every year or two…


So my beautiful, wonderful Penny

know how much you are loved

and that you will always be

part of the birth story of all my children,

and more than that,

ever a part of our family.


If you promise to come 

and have tea with us at our house

we will even give you a sticker!

  

Curl Up With Me

On By Anna EastlandIn Poetry5 Comments

 
There are days when everything feels like so much

and I hide from You, Lord,

thinking I have nothing good to say about all this

and can’t deal with anyone else.

But when I hide under the covers

seeking the solitude of sleep,

I discover You there,

waiting like a loyal, warm cat

ready to just curl up and be with me.

And then I open the eyes of my heart a little

and start to see you everywhere…

in a single star in the early evening sky

in the eternal beauty of a long low bank of gray clouds on the horizon

in the tiny green shoots of sweet peas bravely emerging from the soil

and in the purple blossom of my flowering Josephine plant

saying, “I am here, I am here.”

Stars Tremble Brightly

On By Anna EastlandIn Poetry2 Comments

Outside tonight it’s chilly

and so windy the treehouse rattles 

and creaks.

The very stars tremble brightly

in the deep, dark blue of the sky.

I wonder how the earth looks from up there,

a patchwork quilt of cosy lights,

a humming globe of life 

burning in the darkness.

Frootloops for Once

On By Anna EastlandIn Family Life, Poetry3 Comments

 

Some days

when you’ve been up and down all night

with coughing kids,

giving medicine and fruit smoothie,

rubbing Vicks on hot little backs,

tucking and retucking in,

the only thing to do

when they mysteriously get up extra early,

before the decent hour of 7 am,

is to start the day afresh

with Frootloops for once—

very healthy with all that ‘froot’—

and “The best breakfast ever,”

according to my three year old.

Maybe smiling will help the bad bugs go away.

Why Pray?

On By Anna EastlandIn Photos, Poetry13 Comments

Because to pray

is to let your soul breathe

in an atmosphere of love.

Open to inspiration

you can escape

the suffocating smallness

of your limited self.

All the invisible webs of love

that connect you with others

begin to glow.

Nothing to offer but silence

On By Anna EastlandIn Poetry, Stillbirth6 Comments

Rummaging through the cupboards of my soul

I find I have nothing to offer you.

Where is the spiritual nourishment I want to share?

The refreshing tidbit of wisdom

to savour on the tip of your tongue?

 

Looking, looking, I come up empty…

 

All I can offer is a bit of space

for you to lay down your burdens,

a bare shelf in my heart

you’re welcome to fill with your sorrows

or joys.

 

I will sit with you, friend,

and offer the silence your story needs

to come out and dance.

 

tiny bricks of beauty

On By Anna EastlandIn motherhood, Poetry12 Comments

Have you had the chance to do much art lately?

I ask my artist friend as she chats 

confidentially with her toddler on her lap,

which is blossoming with baby belly

under her bright pink shirt.


Not too much, she replies, 

Just surviving and getting ready for baby,

but looking forward to nursing as a time for inspiration.

Yeah, I reply, It’s that quiet contemplative time 

that is the source of inspiration for sure.

An openness to the divine, she replies, 

That’s where art comes from.


I want to tell her that right now 

she is cooperating with the most divine creation there is—

that of a human life—the artistic triumph of the world, 

a piece of art that is by its very nature immortal

but I get interrupted by one of my kids who needs a new towel.


So I can’t tell her that she is weaving with sinews of love

painting with brushstrokes of hope

writing with stories strung on tiny ropes of DNA

forging new paths for faithfulness

strengthening family bonds with tiny bricks of beauty

cells diverse and unique 

splendidly forming into 

a new child of promise.


  

Misty Moon

On By Anna EastlandIn Poetry, Stillbirth7 Comments

  
There’s a misty werewolf moon tonight
and it reminds me of a poem I wrote you

 just over 6 months ago

before you were born,

while you were still with us. 
The stars twinkle reassuringly 

in the cold night sky,

but the gloominess of this moon

covered in snatches of thin clouds 

like scattered veils,

brings me to tears.
Perhaps it shines brighter from your side

—up in Heaven—

with no clouds in the way. 
One day, honey, promise you’ll show me. 

The Stomach Storm: A Children’s Poem

On By Anna EastlandIn Poetry8 Comments

‘Cause writing a silly poem is the best response to 2 am tummy bugs…  

Upon the arrival of the Stomach Storm

and lest we climb Mt. Doom,

we attacked the land with broom in hand

and Lysol weapons, too.

 

 

We sailed the sea of Bubble Bath

and towel-clad began

the ascent of Mt. Laundry,

at it’s highest since the world began.

 

 

We prepared to imbibe

that blessed drink,

elixir for the storm,

’tis called Ginger Ale

I think, in its sparkly form.

 

 

And slowly sunny skies appeared

o’er the land of Tummy,

the noxious gases disappeared

and soon again our suppers will be yummy.

 

Eat My Heart Out

On By Anna EastlandIn Photos, Poetry7 Comments

Sorrow creeps into my heart

like a crazy caterpillar

and eats everything in sight.

  

 Then falls exhausted

into a dreamy upside down slumber,

while the delicate paper-thin chrysalis

pulses with new life—

silent transformation. 

From the broken walls of my heart

emerges a vivacious hope,

bourne up on the wings

of a butterfly.