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a pocket full of..., Brian Miller, go ahead stick your hand in your pocket you know you want to, i sure hope that is maple syrup
Ok, probably not what you expected on the week of Halloween. Maybe we will call this a treat, just to meet the expectation of the season. I had every intention of talking All Hallow’s Eve or masks or candy — but really, I would take fruit over chocolate most days…unless it is peanut butter and chocolate….or chocolate and fruit.
But then I started reading some poetry and writing a lesson plan for the poetry club that I run at school…and I came upon Palestine by Lorna Dee Cervantes — and it’s not so much the poem itself that grabbed me —
it is an interesting poem on war and terror (there may be a hint there too, on something coming later this week) — but the first line that got me going…it starts like this:
“a country you carry in your pocket”
the poem goes on talk of the country as a remembered fragrance as well, but my question for you today — seeing as we are all from all over the place, is
if your country was in your pocket, what would it be?
maybe you will answer me in a poem, or just your thoughts in the comments below. Reduce your country to pocket-size and tell me all about it. I will leave my thoughts here in just a little bit. ~Brian
dVerse 
My country, hit hard last week with more hurt, if it was in my pocket would feel like a smooth, worn stone – washed and softened by trials and treasured for the beauty beneath the scars. A weight in my pocket, not heavy to pull me down but enough to anchor me in this place. It feels like the wide open prairies, and roars like a chinook wind and yet, warm and solid, remains unchanged by the small abrasive things. It outweighs the pocket lint of politics, and wears the sharp straw bits to dust that blows away when I take my hand away. I can feel it and know how it sits in my pocket, just as it sits in my mind. In my heart. A piece of bedrock that the rest is build upon.
Great Pubtalk Brian, and I’m working my way to getting back into the Pub again. Just trying to secure a house for winter and finishing the harvest paperwork, baling and hauling.
Glad to see you all! I’ll buy a round for everyone – put it on my tab please! 🙂
So happy to see you, Sunshine!
🙂
hope you find that house…I like the thought of the smooth stone…we have gone through our fair share od weathering as well…we had that school shooting in WA state last Friday, right near ya’lls border as well…
God will provide, we just have to keep looking and be faithful and patient (although it was chilly this morning! ha ha). There have been a couple school shootings I saw on the news, terrible. 😦
Couldn’t have said it better myself, Shanyn. Yes, this past week held great pain for all of us who call ourselves Canadian. I think that the one blessing that came from this all was seeing the leaders of all 3 of the major parties coming together…even if only for a day. So yes, this country certainly DOES outweigh the lint of politics! In city, where I live, members of the Muslim community showed up in force at City Hall to denounce the terror attack and the need to “Stand on Gaurd” for Canada. That, too, is Canada…people of various thoughts, beliefs, and ideals, pulling together for the greater good of all…so…if Canada were a thing in my pocket, perhaps it would be a pocket-watch. Numerous components, all seemingly different, but when assembled in just such a way, those parts all come together to become a greater whole. Yeah…we’ve got our problems, too…but on the whole, I think a pretty good country!
pretty cool on those of different beliefs coming together for the greater good…and especially politicians across party lines….we can hope things like that continue and bleed across the border…without a need for such acts…you know….
Canada is my adopted motherland but I have come to love its diversity and openness to other cultures and ideas ~ Shanyn and Bryan, so true of what you said about Canada ~
oooh Bryan I love the watch imagery. Nicely said. Very nicely said. 🙂
How beautiful!
Look forward to seeing you again shortly – missed you!
As I am reading this, Cpl. Cirillo’s state funeral is playing in the background. What kills me: the face of his five year old son, and his two faithful dogs, peering under the fence, waiting for their person to come home. My country? As Shanyn said, a smooth stone in my pocket, representing the beauty found across the land from coast to coast. An eagle feather, a mental image of deer and bear, our co-inhabitants. A salmon, leaping up impossible rapids, rugged, as Canadians are, to withstand our winters. The politeness for which we are famous and, as Bryan pointed out, our multicultural population, who generally live well together. This is a good week to reflect on country. In North America, we are blessed in so many ways.
My “little” country within my bigger country, Nevada, is celebrating it’s 150th year of Statehood on October 31! Such an appropriate date for a state known for its many haunting’s–in the multiple mining ghost towns. Try Googling Nevada and hauntings for a Halloween treat. Happy Halloween, everyone. Or you may enjoy “Home Means Nevada”–the State song. The Reno Philharmonic put together a major effort, including the orchestra, to get school kids and other choral groups to sing it. I was at the concert when they introduced it…but, to be honest, haven’t checked out the website myself. They took a hokey song and made it into something spectacular.
huh will have to check out that song….heh….would be pretty cool to tour a few of those mining towns….
I think if my country, the USA was in my pocket, it would be a pair of broken but shiny shackles. Because despite all of the problems there is great freedom here, a liberty that few truly comprehend. Strong beauty in brokenness and unparalleled liberty.
oo great image on the shackles….brings to mind quite a few things from our history….beauty in the brokenness…nice…
my country might be a novel – not quite finished but the pages tattered and torn – separated and unwilling to speak or consider the other side. I don’t see the greatness of the completed work being discovered anytime soon.
had a few of those in my back pocket in my day…I am never too far from something to read….and there is something about the story being unfinished that is appealing though…I would rather have more to write than to know I was on the last chapter…
here’s to the never-ending-story 🙂
hey, i saw that movie…
grins.
having two daughters… I must have memorized it from all the repetitions.
My country is a bird of equality
It flies its blueness on the sky-ribbon of truth.
It aims to defoliate lies and let the sun shine
on justce. Its song pleads for action &
participation.
just make sure that bird can breathe in your pocket….smiles.
i like the thought of it as a bird as well….and i def hear that song.
That is beautiful, Gay. I really love it.
Lovely thought, a living breathing intention for good.
At least that is my goal for my country.
Beautifully said, Gay!
a very interesting thought… have to let this sink a bit but def. just starting to think makes me already feel my country in a specific way…
cool..i look forward to hearing what you come up with C…
A very good question Brian ~ My country would be white hanky, which for me means peace. We are a nation of different cultures but we work and live side by side, in harmony. It also connotes a white canvas, like starting over again for most immigrants who want a better life for themselves and their children ~
Happy Monday ~
peace would def be nice…we def have different cultures though they dont always exist in peace….
What a great idea to show both blank canvas and truce!
my nation often struggles with identity
the way a child loses lunch money
& for fear of asking
goes hungry
just a line i doodled in the notebook while pondering today….
maybe mine would be a note in a pocket,
maybe a posted sign torn off a light pole
with a number on it—
i haven’t called yet,
but promises—
A different perspective of what we foreigners always look up to as a powerful and very strong country ~ I like the idea of note in a pocket, with a number, certainly full of promises ~
Very interesting as always, Brian- you bring it right down to nitty , gritty, real. I like that.
See? The USA can not be one thing … the number hasn’t been called.
“for fear of asking, goes hungry” – as always, you nail it, kiddo.
I thought this was a prompt. But now I see that it’s not. What I wrote won’t fit in at all. Oh, who am I kidding? Nothing I write ever does.
http://anowlandacandle.blogspot.com/2014/10/myas-cuntry.html
hey no sweat….be by in a bit….
hey I cant get in….permission denied…
Wow, Brian. I think I just wrote the poem a few days ago in response to suit your pub talk topic today. It is no secret that I am passionate about our culture, live and love our legends, and that of the region. Only because I really believe we have such beauty and much more to offer.
I believe that legends are the reflection of our ancient civilisation and so, for my country in my pocket, I would pick our stories and fables. I tell you a story, and you will experience Malaysia. Asia. All of us.
Our way of Life. Literature. Legends.
you def have the fever for your legends which are a huge part of our peoples and cultures…..and i love stories…..
My grandparents came to this country from Poland(paternal) and Italy (maternal) in the early 1900’s because for them it was the land of dreams, of freedom and opportunity. If my country could fit in my pocket, it would appear as small framed sepia photograph of a young man, barely out of his teens, eyes wide with wonder as he stood on the bow of a boat with the Statue of Liberty in the background. For me a reminder not of who we are, but where we came from; built on the faith that no matter what poverty or politics we are born into, here we have the freedom to be whoever we want as long as we are willing to work for it. We are bombarded on a daily basis with the naysayers telling us how bad and unfair things are. We need to remind ourselves more often of how lucky we are, not how angry we should be.
oo i rather like the sepia little picture….of what was…of what one can do if wiling to work for it….lucky indeed….
I have several countries in my pocket. I have lived in three different ones (four if you consider Scotland a country) and have traveled to about twenty and they have all shaped me and continue to do so.
you have heavy pockets….ha….
i have traveled only in the americas….would like to jump the pond though
PS – the best of all these countries is somewhere close to heaven.
I do not know which country to write about, now I have two. 🙂 A gal can be quite lucky.
But –
My motherland is a rose
beautiful and inviting
giving herself only
to those brave enough
to embrace her thorns.
ah they all have their thorns now dont they….but those willing to brave them will be loved by her….very nice….
In my pocket … lint/luck, spare change, grease, dust, ash ..a pandora’s box-pocket of ills and hope …
pandoras box…and apt parallel…smiles…ills and hope, yin and yang….the good the bad & the politicians…..
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Such charming and thoughtful comments and contributions. I have a problem, of course, identifying a single country in my pocket, so for me my country is a loose, floaty gossamer shawl covering most of the globe.
hey that is cool too….and perhaps the shawl will keep a bit of the nip from around the neck of the world…
I am not sure one can put a country in a pocket. As an Australian it would have to be gum leaves (eucalypt) although given how the trees have been seeded around the world this is no loner so quintessentially Australian. But, we do have more of them an the smell of gum leaves in the morning, or particularly in the heat of sun, or burned, reminds one of home. One could also put a jar of Vegemite in a pocket but I don’t think the mellifluous, liquid, crystal carolling of the magpie – also quintessentially and uniquely Australian, could go in a pocket.
Can sunshine go in a pocket, and a dry, laconic sense of humour which laughs at anything and takes nothing too seriously? Can a sense of freedom, unequalled in my experience, anywhere else, because of a unique social mobility which allows more people to become what they wish regardless of birth, wealth or circumstance, be put in a pocket? I think we have our convict forbears to thank for that!
Having lived around the world for many years and travelled even more, I have a perspective many Australians don’t have and remain grateful for the fortune of my birth if only because it is a land of great food, wine, coffee and a belief that life is meant to be enjoyed and work is only something you do to live and never a raison d’etre for being. 🙂
Is it not fortunate we all like and love different countries or bits of the world would be very crowded.
http://roslynrosssmallstones.blogspot.com/2014/10/australia.html
i dunno—you country is pretty high on my list of places to visit…so if i crowd it….well i am glad its a fairly big place….smiles…perhaps you do have the convicts to thank for that…i would def be thnkful though…yours is a very cool place, in my mind at least…
I don’t think you would crowd it Brian. It is the same size as continental USA with only 23million people and its borders are all beaches, mostly empty which is the best thing….and the sun shines!!
I need a new keyboard, so many typos from sticking keys. Sigh. And lazy editing. Bigger sigh.
my country’s marble-round and smooth
like ice when warm and warm today
its tolerance will have to sooth
alas it’s prickly with dismay
compassion’s easy to abuse
it’s simpler humanity deny
I cannot carry thorny things
it stings and make me wince
smooth like ice when warm….ha…I like the contrasts in that….
compassion’s easy to abuse….def some truth in that as well…
I have lived in some years as a child in Australia and my university years in Canada. Very memorable years.
Lovely and part of me growing up. In one I carry a cat and a fiddle in my pocket, the other a maple leaf and snowflakes.
I have enjoyed these visualizations. Thanks, Brian and all.
If Canada could fit in my pocket
If I could fit you in my pocket
you’d be strong but not heavy
tough skinned but still pretty
you could be round like a drum
sounding beats of a drum circle
patient people of our First Nations
teaching us to love this planet
Mother Earth needing respect;
the sounds of French and English
blend with thousands other
tongues and dialects;
you would be light as a feather
strong enough to still do battle
kind enough to gauge whether
orphaned children
a price to pay
for things we call
the greater good.
you’d reflect colours
and different hues
weaving a tapestry
of all the cultures
faiths and views,
not simply tolerance
but for acceptance
there is a difference
that much we know.
like Northern Lights
you’d reflect change
and evolution
you’d be compact like
a salamander
but change your colours
like a chameleon
resembling what we call
democracy.
the perfect size
the perfect fit
in my pocket
you would sit.
Well, of course i am a day late…story of my life lately. 🙂 but your thoughts did inspire a poem, so it must be posted!
my Country I did carry
in my pocket
secure in the confines
of where
I wanted it to be
and
as long as I did not disturb
its place of rest
it was a thing of limitless ambition
unbridled glory
and infinite possibility
but
when I finally thought to check
the well being of my charge
I found a hole in the pocket
where my country
had been
and
all traces of glory
possibility
ambition
fallen beneath my feet
and trampled into
the dust
but
in my other pocket
amidst the dirt collected there
is the seed of a hope
fragile
afraid of holes and those who
trample countries in the dust
Country of Birth Kashmir(occupied by India since 1948 )
I a Spirit of Two Lands
Born in Freedom Chained
In Pure Dust ,on Pure Earth
I stand,
I never saw My Land;
The land where I was born
Heaven on Earth I am told
Paradise Lost! I realize
Cries of Freedom Freedom
I hear; coffins covered in black
I see; No smiles on faces forlorn,
Clothes all tattered and torn
Hills and mountains, of greenery,
shorn;
Gone is the Beauty of dewdrops
shining in the morn,
I brought the blood and the birth
I brought the life and the soul
And Hope,and the Unseen Dream
I never saw My Land
Why I am here, where I am
I could never own the name,KASHMIR,
I have, I have worn, and now I fear.
In my pocket I would if I could have
a hand of purity washed in peace
to spread the same with a handshake
with everyone I meet
If only I could….