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Posts Tagged ‘mentor’

Sometimes When I’m Quiet, I Think of Art Goodtimes

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on March 9, 2026| 6 Comments »


 
 
I hear the beat of his hand on the drum as he chants,
We are an old people, we are a new people, we are
the same people deeper than before. I have seen
his body explode with poetic energy, sparks leaping
from his fingers, his full voice booming inside my cells
like monsoon thunder in the mountains, and knowing
how big he can be, I feel his restraint as he sits in a circle
and listens, taming all that shakti into quiet attention
as the gourd is passed from person to person and stories
and songs and poems are shared and Art shows us how it’s done,
how together we weave the heart strands into a basket of communion,
and there no strand not welcome—thick ropes of sorrow, gold
threads of devotion, the spidery gray strands of loneliness,
red silk of holiness, scratchy gray of desolation, the deep forest
green of elation—and the circle is always and never the same,
and Art calls us in again and again to aliveness, to share
what matters, beating his drum in time with our hearts
saying welcome, welcome, welcome.

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Essential

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on October 4, 2022| 3 Comments »


            —for Art Goodtimes


When I was clay,
was mud, was
slurry, was sludge,
he said, Fly,
beautiful bird,
high and low.
When I was
nothing, he said,
I am honored
to be your friend.
When there was
nothing to be said,
he sat with me.
We breathed in
deep sadness.
We breathed out love.
All around us,
the grass grew.
Inside, I felt it,
as if his words
were prophecy,
I knew it,
the possibility
of wings.

*

Hi friends, 

I realized tonight that it was a year ago yesterday that I resumed writing poems after a 7-week break after my son’s death. That break was so important–to give myself utterly over to meeting each moment and living into whatever showed up. And returning to writing was also so important–to give in to the practice of showing up with language, being very curious about what is here, and then doing my very best to tell the truth of it. 

Tonight’s poem was inspired by an email I just reread from that time in which my beautiful, soul-growing, long-time mentor, Art Goodtimes said to me, among other things, Fly beautiful bird, high and low. It meant the world to me. 

And so, considering tonight’s poem, it feels appropriate to share with you tonight an article that came out today in Shoutout Colorado!, in which at the end I honor Art’s influence in my life (though there is, as you will see, a misplaced paragraph in the middle of the article that should go at the end?? you’ll figure it out, because it makes no sense otherwise). 
https://shoutoutcolorado.com/meet-rosemerry-wahtola-trommer-poet-presenter/
The article also talks about collaboration, the importance of practice, of “giving it away,” learning when to not give it away, and the joys of taking the slow track.

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One Great Respect

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on December 6, 2018| Leave a Comment »

 

for Art

 

sparring with an old friend,

each round, loving

him more deeply

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She Does the Real Work

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on January 31, 2013| 3 Comments »

—for Jude Janett

You sing, and even
nine hundred miles away
all of my body
turns to ears—
and the ears of my
eyes and the ears
of my gut and
the ears of my ears
all sprout legs and
start dancing in awkward,
ecstatic and awe-drenched hallelujahs,
and I may be broken
and I am a mess but I
am dancing under
your pulpit, keep singing,
I am listening
to your shining
pounding rests.

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