Sunday, July 8, 2018

July 5, 2018

Poets’ Roundtable


Welcome

MarLou will not be here, but she sent a poem:


  Waves Lapping


Body buried 
in wet sand near
waves lapping
Hop to water’s edge
Feel cool sand on feet
Trace patterns with toes
Back to sand hole 
Brain dripping serotonin

I think she's beginning to get it.

Dru Martin also  sent a poem:

i will arise and go now

no need to try and stop it

i have slid down mountains

staggered through deserts

scythed a path through this madness

and am no better off

for each step takes me 

 further away



i will take nothing as i go

for its as perfect as it can be

and there is no lack of light

that has shone upon me

there are scant few moments

as ready as this

eventhough there are

things to miss



i will arise and go now

and leave a fading shadow

that falls upon the slow burning

pyre of tomorrow

for this door is outside of time

where we all return to dust

i will arise and go now

miss me if you must

News and Jabber


Poet Timothy Murphy died this past week. Largely unknown to us in the East, this native o Minnesota, was a pretty good poet featuring local themes. Here is an example:


Eighty-eight at Midnight


A black calf bleats

at shrivelled teats.

Incessant heat

withers the wheat

and wilts the silking corn.

Too few, too late

the spotty showers

mock my stunted flowers.

Too late I shrink from debt.

Like a spitted calf I turn

over a bed of coals

while the pastures burn.


Timothy Murphy



From The Deed of Gift, Story Line

Press, © 1998.  Reprinted by

permission of the author and
Story Line Press, Ashland,
Oregon.



In the last meeting I pointed out that there are lots of good poets and that maybe the audience isn't there. This time I'll point you to an article from The Pacific Standard that notes that, according to a major survey, more people are reading poetry now than just six years ago, putting the number at 28 million. Go to this link to find what the story has to offer: https://psmag.com/education/why-are-more-americans-reading-poetry-right-now.

I was reading Emily Dickinson earlier this week and came across, for the first time #861:

By Emily Dickinson
Split the Lark—and you’ll find the Music—
Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled—
Scantily dealt to the Summer Morning
Saved for your Ear when Lutes be old.
Loose the Flood—you shall find it patent—
Gush after Gush, reserved for you—
Scarlet Experiment! Sceptic Thomas!
Now, do you doubt that your Bird was true?


Here is a link to a very good analysis of the poem: https://splitthelark.wordpress.com.  I want to point out that this spinster really had the capacity for language and expression we often think not associated with our stereotype of the reclusive woman. The poem is laden with violence, injury, rot (sceptic/septic). Read the article. 

The Current Assignment

The Next Assignment

Write a list poem. Here is a link to an article about list poems:

Here is one by Shel Silverstein:

Sick

“I cannot go to school today,”
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I’m going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I’ve counted sixteen chicken pox.
And there’s one more—that’s seventeen,
And don’t you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut, my eyes are blue—
It might be instamatic flue.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I’m sure that my left leg is broken—
My hips hurt when I move my chin,
My belly button’s caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle’s sprained,
My ‘pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb,
I have a silver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow’s bent, my spine ain’t straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my hart is—what?
What’s that? What’s that you say?
You say today is… Saturday?
G’bye, I’m going out to play!”


The Next Meeting


The next meeting will be on Thursday, July 19, 2018

Other Jabber





2 comments:

  1. A capacity for language? yes! A weird, imaginative sense? yes! While one might play with a live captured bird, maybe keep the bird in a cage, observe it, if intent upon the study of nature, one might, even, slice it open. I watched my uncle butcher the chickens we picked out for dinner whenever he asked if we would like to, but we mostly demurred. Once, one of us did, and my uncle swept the bird off the pen's floor, grabbed it by the neck with his right hand, and gathered its legs in the other, stretched his hands out and twisted the head held in his right hand to break its neck, and then, he swung the carcass now in his left hand and slammed it's neck like a stick of wood onto the chopping block just as he swung the hand-held ax downward, and in one quick blow, severed the head, he hung the carcass up high to let the blood drain out, and then he removed the bird after it finished bleeding out, slid a noose from a ball of hanging twine around its legs, after having held down the bird in a five gallon can of boiling water for a while, pulled it out, and hung it up for the hot water to drip off and for all of us to work on plucking the bird so that his wife, our aunt could finish gutting it, and cleaning it up, before stuffing it with a mixture of chopped onions, celery, salt and pepper, and bread crumb before shoving the bird into the broiler pan , adding fluid to suit, and sticking it into the firewood burning stove’s black oven. Maybe there were two birds in the oven. I'm sure that. At least two birds were needed to feed family and children- adults and youngsters, as this was during the War and boys were shipping to the front in Europe for D-Day.

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  2. Making a List, Making it Quick, {For Catholic Confession}

    As the red lamp was lit over the confessional
    I virtually hemmed and hawed for a while
    And slowly approached the left side of the box,
    Pushed aside the red velour curtain, entered,
    Intentionally intent, on the verge of scarred,
    But prompted by the intention to confess,
    I waited on father’s head, in profile to appear
    beyond the slider door, his pointed hands
    Held high, almost to his nose, as he looked
    At the crucifix, a miracle of the Crucified Jesus.

    Father did not pounce upon me, as I opened
    With the ceremonial words of my confession.
    “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” paused
    To wonder some more about the order of my sins.
    I decide to go with the venial before confessing’
    The deadly sins, the commandments that cause
    Even the justified to squirm like worms in a can.
    But, at a young age, some things are very lovely
    While some others are perversely ugly, so ugly.

    To a kid, the short of confession is to be very safe
    The way to go is to confess everything one dares--
    Make it short & sweet to confess: Disobedience?
    Sure thing! All the “don’ts” added to the long list
    Of my venial sins. Add to the list the act of “lying”
    For the sake of covering up some small mischief.
    The number mattered only to father. Interrupted
    By a question; say, if I were asked for a short list,
    I’d be prompt to pause, reflect, on a round number.
    Anything related to sex mattered most, particularly,
    When accidental or willing experimentation meant
    A very close examination of conscience to come up
    With the act, a number for times, & more specificity.

    Self-duplicitousness was a conjugation of factors
    More or less intended to either mischaracterize
    An occasion of sin or to conveniently camouflage
    Whatever. As a kid, I actually intended, venially,
    Never mortally. The big stuff came later and was
    No less easy to sincerely quantify, clarify, or exactify.

    The essential matter of confession was to present
    One’s self, ritually make a declaration of one's sins,
    Hope the priest would attach a penance in exchange
    For a heartfelt and hopeful absolution, with a promise
    to sin no more, to be free of guilt as if one would never sin,
    Until the next time, that is, when “Sister Blanche “marched
    our class from school to church for us to go to confession,
    Starting with an examination of conscience, an old thing.+

    + First, List the small sins; second, always end with big ones.
    G. Coulombe © 07-07-2018

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