Category: poetry

  • Corona Diary: Spine Poetry

    SIP Day 48, wearing a grey tank and white jeans, writing while sitting at the desk in my home office; 89 degrees outside today.

    I recently saw a colleague publishing “spine poetry” made up of book titles. I like a poetry challenge so I set my hand at creating some poetry. This was my first pass:

    stack of books with text of poem
    The Journey Home

    Becoming wise about this life;
    Extraordinary Bodies in and out of the garden,
    Close to the bone; crossing to safety
    The other side of paradise

    The next poem I wanted to be about the pandemic, with a nod to John Snow who first created the cholera map of London, which taught us so much about the spread of infectious disease:

    Stack of books with spines facing out
    Ghost Map

    Before, during, after
    the year with no pants:

    The monster at our door;
    Changes in the land;
    A room of ones own in exile (and other stories).
    The body in pain; dead certainties
    Homesick prisoners of the American dream.

    How much is enough?
    Here comes everybody.
  • close as two pages…

    Because I do like me some book-ish poetry…

    Untitled
    by Elizabeth Bishop

    Close close all night
    the lovers keep.
    They turn together
    in their sleep,

    close as two pages
    in a book
    that read each other
    in the dark.

    Each knows all
    the other knows,
    learned by heart
    from head to toes.

     

    books on my desk
    A few of the books that are regularly stacked on my desk at home…

  • resolved #2, 2015

    This photo has nothing whatsoever to do with poetry.  It's a snap of the kids sitting on the back porch in the sunshine over the holidays.
    This photo has nothing whatsoever to do with poetry. It’s a snap of the kids sitting on the back porch in the sunshine over the holidays.   :)

    For those of you who are longtime readers of my blog, you know that I have a certain fascination with poetry.  At times I’ve penned a bit of poetry for this space and have often linked to, or included poetry in my posts.

    Why poetry?  I’m not sure, but I think it has something to do with the chewiness and brevity of a poem.  It does so much work in so little space.  This appeals to the minimalist in me.

    So as a way to include my poetry in my year, I resolved to listen to The Writer’s Almanac podcast each morning as I sit down to breakfast.  I must say that it’s great to start the day with beautiful words.

  • Mary Monday: renewal

    Returning to my “Mary Monday” poetry series, from oh-so-long ago….

    How I wish that I’d read this poem before I spent three hours at the DMV last week, getting my stolen Driver’s License replaced:

    (from the Writer’s Almanac):

    Renewal

    by Jeffrey Harrison

    At the Department of Motor Vehicles
    to renew my driver’s license, I had to wait
    two hours on one of those wooden benches
    like pews in the church of Latter Day
    Meaninglessness, where there is no
    stained glass (no windows at all, in fact),
    no incense other than stale cigarette smoke
    emanating from the clothes of those around me,
    and no sermon, just an automated female voice
    calling numbers over a loudspeaker.
    And one by one the members of our sorry
    congregation shuffled meekly up to the pitted
    altar to have our vision tested or to seek
    redemption for whatever wrong turn we’d taken,
    or pay indulgences, or else be turned away
    as unworthy of piloting our own journey.
    But when I paused to look around, using my numbered
    ticket as a bookmark, it was as if the dim
    fluorescent light had been transformed
    to incandescence. The face of the Latino guy
    in a ripped black sweatshirt glowed with health,
    and I could tell that the sulking white girl
    accompanied by her mother was brimming
    with secret excitement to be getting her first license,
    already speeding down the highway, alone,
    with all the windows open, singing.

  • Have I not been ready…

    Have I not been ready…

    Today is a day for a poem. You know that kind of day…when morning comes while you’re standing stocking-footed in the garden and eating greek yogurt with toasted almonds and a sprinkle of nutmeg and realizing that the rosebushes in your backyard are covered with new buds (again).  And you can’t help but think that sometimes such beauty hurts just as much as it heals…

    From Mary Oliver’s “Am I Not Among the Early Risers”

    Here is an amazement–once I was twenty years old and in
    every motion of my body there was a delicious ease,
    and in every motion of the green earth there was
    a hint of paradise,
    and now I am [forty] years old, and it is the same.[..]

    I bow down.

    Have I not loved as though the beloved could vanish any moment,
    or become preoccupied, or whisper a name other than mine
    in the stretched curvatures of lust, or over the dinner table
    Have I ever taken good fortune for granted?

    Have I not, every spring, befriended the swarm that pours forth?
    Have I not summoned the honey-man to come, to hurry,
    to bring with him the white and comfortable hive?

    And, while I waited, have I not leaned close, to see everything?
    Have I not been stung as I watched their milling and gleaming,
    and stung hard?

    Have I not been ready at the iron door,
    not knowing to what country it opens–to death or to more life?

    Have I ever said that that the day was too hot or too cold
    or the night too long and as black as oil anyway,
    or the morning, washed blue and emptied entirely
    of the second-rate, less than happiness

    as I stepped down from the porch and set out along
    the green paths of the world?

  • i am a continuance of blue sky…

    i am a continuance of blue sky…

    From Joy Harjo:

    a woman can’t survive
    by her own breath
    alone

    she must know
    the voices of mountains
    she must recognize
    the foreverness of blue sky
    she must flow
    with the elusive
    bodies
    of night wind women
    who will take her into
    her own self

    look at me
    i am not a separate woman
    i am a continuance
    of blue sky
    I am the throat
    of the sandia mountains
    a flight wind woman
    who burns
    with every breath
    she takes

    IMG_5326

  • a great lover…

    pale pink rose

    A friend shared the poem below on my Facebook page recently, and it literally left me breathless as I read (note: I’ve made a few changes here to make it a bit more female-positive).

    A few days ago I was having a thoughtful chat with another friend and it struck me how hard my life has often been–in that I’ve had to bend and alter my path because of situations beyond my control.  So many of my wishes and desires are unfulfilled.  There are so many ‘what ifs’ to my life that I simply can’t pursue because of circumstance.  But despite this, I feel as though I’ve surrendered myself to these restrictions and found even more freedom through doing so.  In large part, I think my ability to surface from a morass is because I simply love life so much, and I find huge pleasure in the smallest of things.  Perhaps that’s the result of having survived so much already, or perhaps it’s simply my nature.  I don’t know.  But it makes me feel buoyant and strong.

    The Great Lover
    by Rupert Brooke

    I have been so great a lover: filled my days
    So proudly with the splendour of Love’s praise,
    The pain, the calm, and the astonishment,
    Desire illimitable, and still content,
    And all dear names [wo]men use, to cheat despair,

    For the perplexed and viewless streams that bear
    Our hearts at random down the dark of life.
    Now, ere the unthinking silence on that strife
    Steals down, I would cheat drowsy Death so far,
    My night shall be remembered for a star

    That outshone all the suns of all [wo]men’s days.
    Shall I not crown them with immortal praise
    Whom I have loved, who have given me, dared with me
    High secrets, and in darkness knelt to see

    The inenarrable god[dess]head of delight?

    Love is a flame;—we have beaconed the world’s night.
    A city:—and we have built it, these and I.

    An emp[ress]:—we have taught the world to die.
    So, for their sakes I loved, ere I go hence,
    And the high cause of Love’s magnificence,
    And to keep loyalties young, I’ll write those names
    Golden for ever, eagles, crying flames,
    And set them as a banner, that [wo]men may know,
    To dare the generations, burn, and blow
    Out on the wind of Time, shining and streaming….
    These I have loved:
    White plates and cups, clean-gleaming,
    Ringed with blue lines; and feathery, faery dust;
    Wet roofs, beneath the lamp-light; the strong crust
    Of friendly bread; and many-tasting food;
    Rainbows; and the blue bitter smoke of wood;
    And radiant raindrops couching in cool flowers;
    And flowers themselves, that sway through sunny hours,
    Dreaming of moths that drink them under the moon;
    Then, the cool kindliness of sheets, that soon
    Smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss
    Of blankets; grainy wood; live hair that is
    Shining and free; blue-massing clouds; the keen

    Unpassioned beauty of a great machine;

    The benison of hot water; furs to touch;
    The good smell of old clothes; and other such—
    The comfortable smell of friendly fingers,
    Hair’s fragrance, and the musty reek that lingers
    About dead leaves and last year’s ferns….
    Dear names,
    And thousand others throng to me! Royal flames;
    Sweet water’s dimpling laugh from tap or spring;
    Holes in the ground; and voices that do sing:
    Voices in laughter, too; and body’s pain,
    Soon turned to peace; and the deep-panting train;
    Firm sands; the little dulling edge of foam
    That browns and dwindles as the wave goes home;

    And washen stones, gay for an hour; the cold

    Graveness of iron; moist black earthen mould;
    Sleep; and high places; footprints in the dew;
    And oaks; and brown horse-chestnuts, glossy-new;
    And new-peeled sticks; and shining pools on grass;—
    All these have been my loves. And these shall pass.
    Whatever passes not, in the great hour,
    Nor all my passion, all my prayers, have power
    To hold them with me through the gate of Death.
    They’ll play deserter, turn with the traitor breath,
    Break the high bond we made, and sell Love’s trust

    And sacramented covenant to the dust.
    —Oh, never a doubt but, somewhere, I shall wake,
    And give what’s left of love again, and make

    New friends, now strangers….
    But the best I’ve known,

    Stays here, and changes, breaks, grows old, is blown
    About the winds of the world, and fades from brains
    Of living [wo]men, and dies.
    Nothing remains.

    O dear my loves, O faithless, once again
    This one last gift I give: that after [wo]men
    Shall know, and later lovers, far-removed
    Praise you, “All these were lovely”; say, “[S]he loved.”

  • IMG_2842

    A few classic lines from A.E. Housman:

    Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
    Is hung with bloom along the bough,
    And stands about the woodland ride
    Wearing white for Eastertide.

    Of course, I love the white-pink blossoms. But what gets me most about this picture is that blue blue sky. I want to dip in my paddle and ride right into it!

  • we need more worlds…

    IMG_2255

    Religious Consolation

    by John Updike

    One size fits all. The shape or coloration
    of the god or high heaven matters less
    than that there is one, somehow, somewhere, hearing
    the hasty prayer and chalking up the mite
    the widow brings to the temple, A child
    alone with horrid verities cries out
    for there to be a limit, a warm wall
    whose stones give back an answer, however faint.

    Strange, the extravagance of it—who needs
    those eighteen-armed black Kalis, those musty saints
    whose bones and bleeding wounds appall good taste,
    those joss sticks, houris, gilded Buddhas, books
    Moroni etched in tedious detail?
    We do; we need more worlds. This one will fail.

  • what if…you went to heaven

    morning light on lily

    Borrowed this one from Maddie, because I needed it today:

    what if you slept?
    and what if,
    in your sleep
    you dreamed?

    and what if,
    in your dream,
    you went to heaven
    and there plucked
    a strange and
    beautiful flower?

    and what if,
    when you awoke,
    you had the flower in
    your hand?
    ah!!!

    what then?

    ~Samuel Taylor Coleridge

  • Here I am all myself…

    rosy

    I Am Like a Rose

    I am myself at last; now I achieve
    My very self, I, with the wonder mellow,
    Full of fine warmth, I issue forth in clear
    And single me, perfected from my fellow.

    Here I am all myself. No rose-bush heaving
    Its limpid sap to culmination has brought
    Itself more sheer and naked out of the green
    In stark-clear roses, than I to myself am brought.

    ~DH Lawrence

     

    Poetry is such a personal thing.  But it seems that more often than not, when friends share some stanzas of poetry with me, I find that it resonates with me at some level.  Like the passage above, sent by a friend yesterday.  It’s perfect for me and where I’m at right now…

    These past few days have had me falling in love hard and fast.  With just about everything.  Some of these include

    –My first few steps at learning parsel-tongue.  So I can call myself a genuine digital humanist.

    –Hot waffles full of melted cheese when it’s cold and rainy outside.

    –Sitting cross-legged on my fluffy carpet every morning, as I contemplate the day ahead.

    –Cooking crepes (in my new Calphalon pan) and pots of soup and cinnamon rolls and fresh bread.

    –Cheese sauce.

    –Hamburgers (at Haven and Bruxie and Ruta’s and In-n-Out and Norm’s and the Grinder and…)  Have I mentioned that these past few months I have been craving hamburgers? Just craving.

    –Making travel plans (with a flight leaving in just a few hours!).

    –A friend’s offering of Girl Scout cookies, after an evening of talking, talking, talking.

    –Joan Jett (she is so rocker-tough-cool).

    –Being in first place until the final round of pub trivia, on our team’s very first attempt at working together (and I so want them all on team next time!).

    –Snuggling into the cozy purple chair for movie night.

    –Candles.

    –Naps.

    –Sepia-toned photos (for decoupage).

    –Corsets.

    –A somewhat spontaneous piano concerto concert and the good conversation afterwards.

    –An important package that arrived in the mail today and the awesome friends who signed for it while I was away at work.

    –Huge hugs from CatGirl and GameBoy when I walk in the door each evening.

    –Tea and shawls.  Tea and shawls.  Tea and shawls….

  • seeing red

    mon cheriThis morning I’m contemplating an exciting weekend ahead and realizing that today is simply feeling “red”–full of energy and possibility.

    This little poem excerpt from Eugene Fields is a favorite–one that I learned from a biography of Minerva Teichert (a painter who knew how to user her red!):

    Any color, so long as it’s red,
    Is the color that suits me best,
    Though I will allow there is much to be said
    For yellow and green and the rest;
    But the feeble tints which some affect
    In the things they make or buy
    Have never–I say it with all respect–
    Appealed to my critical eye…