Wednesday, December 31, 2003
No Excuses - find a Poetry Book to Start the New Year Off With
Check out these offerings - or simply click to search for a specific title.
Happy Reading in 2004
Passing Of the Year
It seems like I should have something profound to say here as the year 2003 passes away...
I'm still thinking...
I'm still thinking...
Subliminal
Yet another week of Subliminals
- Seeker:: Searching
- Mirror:: vanity
- Fire:: hell
- Goblet:: wine
- Empty:: zilch
- Secrets:: desires
- Defense:: football
- Hatchet:: Lizzie Borden
- Vapour:: gas
- Ministry:: foreign
Saturday, December 27, 2003
Subliminal
- Exchange:: money
- Parental Advisory:: movie
- Blowout:: tire
- Spider:: web
- Happy:: face
- Intense:: heat
- Corrupt:: Bush
- Got:: Milk
- Crude:: oil
- Three::dog night
Thanks to Katey for turning me on to this.
Cerebral Cobwebs
I know I put it somewhere,
somewhere I’d recall.
I just really can’t remember
where somewhere is at all.
I was gonna tell you something,
just the other day.
It slipped my mind
and bugs me;
that’s all that I can say.
It seems my mind gets weary.
I often times forget.
What’s going on inside my head,
no room for thoughts to fit?
Is it like a big hard drive
with limits to the bytes?
How much memory have I left?
Do these questions to you seem trite?
Has my mind become fragmented…
Is my memory obsolete?
Are there cobwebs in this mind of mine?
What was I thinking?
[Poem I wrote some time back that was published in the new Poetry Section of the Independence Examiner today - 12-27-03]
somewhere I’d recall.
I just really can’t remember
where somewhere is at all.
I was gonna tell you something,
just the other day.
It slipped my mind
and bugs me;
that’s all that I can say.
It seems my mind gets weary.
I often times forget.
What’s going on inside my head,
no room for thoughts to fit?
Is it like a big hard drive
with limits to the bytes?
How much memory have I left?
Do these questions to you seem trite?
Has my mind become fragmented…
Is my memory obsolete?
Are there cobwebs in this mind of mine?
What was I thinking?
[Poem I wrote some time back that was published in the new Poetry Section of the Independence Examiner today - 12-27-03]
Stop 5 Blogs of the Week
Stick Poet's top 5 weekly blog reads took a break for the holiday's yesterday. It will return next Friday.
Wednesday, December 24, 2003
Twas the day before Christmas -
Monday, December 22, 2003
My Weekend
Lots of writing this weekend. Saturday I enjoyed a Christmas party with some writing friends from the northland. Good food... readings, gift exchange. It was the perfect anchor to a weekend of writing. Very positive one.
Ted Hughes - In the News
James Parker - writer with the Boston Globe explores The Wild Poet
Ted Hughes may have been most famous for his doomed marriage to Sylvia Plath. But in his fierce, elemental verse he worshipped another goddess.
Ted Hughes may have been most famous for his doomed marriage to Sylvia Plath. But in his fierce, elemental verse he worshipped another goddess.
Robert Bly - Poet With a Busy January Schedule
Robert Bly's 2004 Appearances
Jan 8 San Jose, CA
Poetry reading at San Jose State, Thursday 7 p.m .
Contact: Nils Peterson, 408-378-7536
Jan 9-11 Asilomar Conference Center near Carmel, CA
Annual Conference on Poetry. Robert Bly and guest teacher Danny Deardorff. Friday evening, Saturday, Sunday morning.
Contact: Wendy Martyna, 831-457-9340
Jan 11 San Jose, CA
Reading of spiritual poems - at the Center for Spiritual Enlightenment, 7 p.m.
Contact: Illana Berger, 408-283-0221, ext. 28
Jan 29 St. Paul, MN
Poetry reading for Otter Tail Review, 870 Grand Ave., 7 p.m.
Contact: 218-998-6466
Jan 8 San Jose, CA
Poetry reading at San Jose State, Thursday 7 p.m .
Contact: Nils Peterson, 408-378-7536
Jan 9-11 Asilomar Conference Center near Carmel, CA
Annual Conference on Poetry. Robert Bly and guest teacher Danny Deardorff. Friday evening, Saturday, Sunday morning.
Contact: Wendy Martyna, 831-457-9340
Jan 11 San Jose, CA
Reading of spiritual poems - at the Center for Spiritual Enlightenment, 7 p.m.
Contact: Illana Berger, 408-283-0221, ext. 28
Jan 29 St. Paul, MN
Poetry reading for Otter Tail Review, 870 Grand Ave., 7 p.m.
Contact: 218-998-6466
Friday, December 19, 2003
Quote of the Day
"The writer isn't made in a vacuum. Writers are witnesses. The reason we need writers is because we need witnesses to this terrifying century."
- E. L. Doctorow
- E. L. Doctorow
It's Friday... Time for the Stick Poet's Top 5 Blogs of the Week
Drum roll please....
No. 5. The Jetty (debut this week)
No. 4 Mikarrhea (last week No. 2)
No. 3 Love During War (debut)
No. 2 The Blue Kangaroo (last week No. 5)
No. 1 Chewing on Pencils (repeating at No. 1 - two weeks in a row)
There you have it... Congratulations to All! Sorry there is no monetary reward... Remember, we are talking poetry **Grin**
No. 5. The Jetty (debut this week)
No. 4 Mikarrhea (last week No. 2)
No. 3 Love During War (debut)
No. 2 The Blue Kangaroo (last week No. 5)
No. 1 Chewing on Pencils (repeating at No. 1 - two weeks in a row)
There you have it... Congratulations to All! Sorry there is no monetary reward... Remember, we are talking poetry **Grin**
Thursday, December 18, 2003
The Development of Poems Part II
I was pleased at the two responses yesterday's post has sparked. They provide some meat and potatoes to continue this topic a bit longer and add fresh insight.
The comment by Katey yesterday hit home with me. She said, "I once heard that the moment you decide to scratch something out and start over is the moment you should've kept going. It's the moment of diving into the unknown...the fear, that causes us to stop." This really paralleled with what I was feeling at the time I mentioned the forward by Ted Hughes to Sylvia Plath's Collected Poems. After all, It was this realization that Plath did not scrap her stuff, but work it and craft it into something she was satisfied with; even if it was not what she intended.
In Katey's post Writing Is Scary she expounds on some very good related points and provides some excellent sources. I especially liked what Natalie Goldberg said: If you go deep enough in writing, it will take you every place." The idea of giving yourself permission to write the "worst junk" is not new to me and I have often used it to get out of a rut. That said, I still at times experience a fear associated with my writing. When Katey talks about the fear of empty pages... mine is more the fear of what is on those pages. I know, it's ok to write junk... but you want to know that this isn't happening all the time.
I guess I need more work on staying with the emotions and energy... letting them take me where I need to go. The really emotional stuff - I do that fine. T can write through tears as well as the next. The concept of writing for therapy is not at all new to me.
When Stephen Dunn talks about your poem beginning at the first moment you've "surprised or startled yourself" and "throwing away" what proceeds that moment... that is I suppose where I most often get off track. Wanting to force that "revelation" to work within the framework of what I started isn't always easy. That's where I often lose it. Realizing that, gives even more significance to what Robert Frost meant when he said, "Anyone can get into a poem, it takes a poet to get out of one."
In James' remarks following my post yesterday, he pointed us to his own blog post: Island of Lost Poems He too has had a lot of poem leftovers but he explains how he has dealt with this quite well making use of a poetry e-mail list to get feed back and post them on his blog... look for more feed-back and then sometimes tweak them a bit more based on that feed-back.
He spoke of setting a goal of writing a poem a day. Getting an image and letting a few words flow from there. Putting less into planning and letting the energy be more directed to the creative process.
I have appreciated hearing from these two peers sharing their insights and the collective sum of their exploring how this all relates to their own work. It has added to my original thoughts on the creative prowess of Sylvia Plath.
The comment by Katey yesterday hit home with me. She said, "I once heard that the moment you decide to scratch something out and start over is the moment you should've kept going. It's the moment of diving into the unknown...the fear, that causes us to stop." This really paralleled with what I was feeling at the time I mentioned the forward by Ted Hughes to Sylvia Plath's Collected Poems. After all, It was this realization that Plath did not scrap her stuff, but work it and craft it into something she was satisfied with; even if it was not what she intended.
In Katey's post Writing Is Scary she expounds on some very good related points and provides some excellent sources. I especially liked what Natalie Goldberg said: If you go deep enough in writing, it will take you every place." The idea of giving yourself permission to write the "worst junk" is not new to me and I have often used it to get out of a rut. That said, I still at times experience a fear associated with my writing. When Katey talks about the fear of empty pages... mine is more the fear of what is on those pages. I know, it's ok to write junk... but you want to know that this isn't happening all the time.
I guess I need more work on staying with the emotions and energy... letting them take me where I need to go. The really emotional stuff - I do that fine. T can write through tears as well as the next. The concept of writing for therapy is not at all new to me.
When Stephen Dunn talks about your poem beginning at the first moment you've "surprised or startled yourself" and "throwing away" what proceeds that moment... that is I suppose where I most often get off track. Wanting to force that "revelation" to work within the framework of what I started isn't always easy. That's where I often lose it. Realizing that, gives even more significance to what Robert Frost meant when he said, "Anyone can get into a poem, it takes a poet to get out of one."
In James' remarks following my post yesterday, he pointed us to his own blog post: Island of Lost Poems He too has had a lot of poem leftovers but he explains how he has dealt with this quite well making use of a poetry e-mail list to get feed back and post them on his blog... look for more feed-back and then sometimes tweak them a bit more based on that feed-back.
He spoke of setting a goal of writing a poem a day. Getting an image and letting a few words flow from there. Putting less into planning and letting the energy be more directed to the creative process.
I have appreciated hearing from these two peers sharing their insights and the collective sum of their exploring how this all relates to their own work. It has added to my original thoughts on the creative prowess of Sylvia Plath.
Wednesday, December 17, 2003
The Development Of Poems
What becomes of all those poems we start? Ideas that seem great at one point and then the bottom sort of drops out of everything and we turn the page and move on. I have many of those. Some I've scribbled over as if to add my insult to the effort or mark them for death.
In the forward to Collected Poems by Sylvia Plath, Ted Hughes writes, "By the time of her death on 11 February 1963, Sylvia Plath had written a large bulk of poetry. To my knowledge, she never scrapped any of her poetic efforts. With one or two exceptions, she brought every piece she worked on to some final form acceptable to her, rejecting at most the odd verse, or a false head or a false tail. Her attitude to her verse was artisan-like: if she couldn't get a table out of the material, she was quite happy to get a chair, or even a toy. The end product for her was not so much a successful poem, as something that had temporarily exhausted her ingenuity."
Considering Hughes' words against the backdrop of the book he wrote the forward for, it is worth noting that Collected Poems is the total sum of Plath's 224 poetic works between 1956 and her death in 1963. Plus some fifty poems selected from her pre-1956 writings. It is also significant to note that this book was a Pulitizer Prize winner.
If the assessment by Ted Hughes is correct, that Sylvia Plath did not waste away her work, but endeavored to craft each piece into something she was satisfied with, she did so quite well by literary standards of her time.
I wonder how many like myself have pages, or perhaps volumes of scraped work. Speaking for myself, I often subscribe to the parctice of not wanting to force something to work. I'm not suggesting that is a bad attitude to take, but I wonder how many times I really bail out on something without truly exhausting possibilities. I think I may be hearing muffled voices of some of those old ideas calling from the pages of writing journals I've put aside.
In the forward to Collected Poems by Sylvia Plath, Ted Hughes writes, "By the time of her death on 11 February 1963, Sylvia Plath had written a large bulk of poetry. To my knowledge, she never scrapped any of her poetic efforts. With one or two exceptions, she brought every piece she worked on to some final form acceptable to her, rejecting at most the odd verse, or a false head or a false tail. Her attitude to her verse was artisan-like: if she couldn't get a table out of the material, she was quite happy to get a chair, or even a toy. The end product for her was not so much a successful poem, as something that had temporarily exhausted her ingenuity."
Considering Hughes' words against the backdrop of the book he wrote the forward for, it is worth noting that Collected Poems is the total sum of Plath's 224 poetic works between 1956 and her death in 1963. Plus some fifty poems selected from her pre-1956 writings. It is also significant to note that this book was a Pulitizer Prize winner.
If the assessment by Ted Hughes is correct, that Sylvia Plath did not waste away her work, but endeavored to craft each piece into something she was satisfied with, she did so quite well by literary standards of her time.
I wonder how many like myself have pages, or perhaps volumes of scraped work. Speaking for myself, I often subscribe to the parctice of not wanting to force something to work. I'm not suggesting that is a bad attitude to take, but I wonder how many times I really bail out on something without truly exhausting possibilities. I think I may be hearing muffled voices of some of those old ideas calling from the pages of writing journals I've put aside.
Monday, December 15, 2003
Paradox
I arise with one hand on chest
proclaiming the satisfaction of one who has lived
a full, decent life; but has little power over my own dominion.
As if my place is now to lie down and succumb to the divestiture
of whatever my interest in future plans is brought
by the goddess of extended lost memories.
I knew her, but I didn't.
Anyway, there was nothing to remember.
I close my eyes and pass into another realm
that I didn't know of, but fell through
once before while asleep.
proclaiming the satisfaction of one who has lived
a full, decent life; but has little power over my own dominion.
As if my place is now to lie down and succumb to the divestiture
of whatever my interest in future plans is brought
by the goddess of extended lost memories.
I knew her, but I didn't.
Anyway, there was nothing to remember.
I close my eyes and pass into another realm
that I didn't know of, but fell through
once before while asleep.
I'm Reading...
I started reading Letters Home by Sylvia Plath - edited by Aurelia S. Plath.
I am struck by the magnitude of Sylvia's expressive abilities at age 14.
I am struck by the magnitude of Sylvia's expressive abilities at age 14.
Friday, December 12, 2003
If You're Happy and You Know It....
Thanks Michaela for sharing the link to Bad Attitudes and the snappy little ditty It cracked me up and of course the damn tune is stuck in my head and likely will be all day long.
Stick Poet's Top Five Blogs of the Week List
Here's the Blogs that caught my attention most this week among the many I've read. There is one totally new to the list.
No. 5 - Blue Kangaroo (last week No. 4)
No. 4 - The Humbug Journal (debut on list)
No. 3 - the Ingredient (last week No. 1)
No. 2 - Mikarrhea (last week No. 3)
No. 1 - Chewing on Pencils (last week No. 2)
Congratulations to one and all for holding my attention (grin)
No. 5 - Blue Kangaroo (last week No. 4)
No. 4 - The Humbug Journal (debut on list)
No. 3 - the Ingredient (last week No. 1)
No. 2 - Mikarrhea (last week No. 3)
No. 1 - Chewing on Pencils (last week No. 2)
Congratulations to one and all for holding my attention (grin)
Thursday, December 11, 2003
I'm in a bit of a quandary....
"Never write a poem about anything that ought to have a poem written about it."
- Richard Hugo (1923-1982)
This narrows the possibilities down to just about anything that I can't imagine.
- Richard Hugo (1923-1982)
This narrows the possibilities down to just about anything that I can't imagine.
Wednesday, December 10, 2003
Katey on Lola and Louise
This is riotous! I love her work. You have to check it out here.
Katey's blog is such a great read. Her poetic voice resonates with a real enthusiastic quality that is simply magnetic. Her blog is really coming along nicely. She posts regularly and has collected a number of excellent resource links on her site. Last week she was # 2 on my top five reading list and she hasn't hurt her position any this week.
Katey's blog is such a great read. Her poetic voice resonates with a real enthusiastic quality that is simply magnetic. Her blog is really coming along nicely. She posts regularly and has collected a number of excellent resource links on her site. Last week she was # 2 on my top five reading list and she hasn't hurt her position any this week.
Tuesday, December 09, 2003
Plum Ruby Review
I have to give a lot of kudos to Crystal King and G.S. McCormick for the first release of Plum Ruby Review.
The site is so well put together. Especially for a first issue.
In the poetry, Killing a Frog by James Keane was among my favorites. I liked that he pitted childhood against adulthood and churned feelings and memories in a tangled web. It was Harding Stedler's That Will Teach Him that was my favorite. I could almost visualize it having been a Billy Collins poem. Hobgoblin by Gordon Moyer was great. I love such frank displays with language. Congeries of Autumn also by Moyer was enjoyable. A pleasing flow, and vivid picture. Michelle Martinez's Cory Wright had an appealing brutalism to it. Well done. I didn't so much care for her other piece. Nor did I find the other poems so much to my taste. I can be picky.
The poetry impressed me much more than the fiction. I won't even go into the fiction selections.
The non-fiction piece, Poet for Troubled Times a work by Burton Watson, translator - and reviewed by G.S. McCormick was top-notch!
Plum Ruby Review overall gets a favorable assessment on my part. Since poetry itself is such a subjectively personal preference I am sure others may feel different about various poems in this issue. There is quality work here and the review is worth taking in if you haven't. I will be anxious to see future issues.
The site is so well put together. Especially for a first issue.
In the poetry, Killing a Frog by James Keane was among my favorites. I liked that he pitted childhood against adulthood and churned feelings and memories in a tangled web. It was Harding Stedler's That Will Teach Him that was my favorite. I could almost visualize it having been a Billy Collins poem. Hobgoblin by Gordon Moyer was great. I love such frank displays with language. Congeries of Autumn also by Moyer was enjoyable. A pleasing flow, and vivid picture. Michelle Martinez's Cory Wright had an appealing brutalism to it. Well done. I didn't so much care for her other piece. Nor did I find the other poems so much to my taste. I can be picky.
The poetry impressed me much more than the fiction. I won't even go into the fiction selections.
The non-fiction piece, Poet for Troubled Times a work by Burton Watson, translator - and reviewed by G.S. McCormick was top-notch!
Plum Ruby Review overall gets a favorable assessment on my part. Since poetry itself is such a subjectively personal preference I am sure others may feel different about various poems in this issue. There is quality work here and the review is worth taking in if you haven't. I will be anxious to see future issues.
Friday, December 05, 2003
Culture Clash of the Taste Buds
I about spit up my gande skinny cafe latte with extra froth when I heard the news. "What news?" you ask... The news!
Yes, McDonalds is taking on Starbucks in an attempt to capture a portion of the upscale coffee marker. Now I'm no marketing genius, but when I think of McDonalds and Coffee, I want to run. Quickly! (gag!)
Anyway, the new establishments will be called McCafe. My understanding is that there are now two of these puppies in California on a trial basis. They may be fine, but they have a real stigma to overcome with me. If they can succeed, maybe they can sell manure to farmers.
Yes, McDonalds is taking on Starbucks in an attempt to capture a portion of the upscale coffee marker. Now I'm no marketing genius, but when I think of McDonalds and Coffee, I want to run. Quickly! (gag!)
Anyway, the new establishments will be called McCafe. My understanding is that there are now two of these puppies in California on a trial basis. They may be fine, but they have a real stigma to overcome with me. If they can succeed, maybe they can sell manure to farmers.
Stick Poet's Top Five Blog's Of the Week List
Here's the Blogs that caught my attention most this week among the many I've read:
No. 5 - Crystallyn
No. 4 - Blue Kangaroo
No. 3 - Mikarrhea
No. 2 - Chewing on Pencils
No. 1 - the Ingredient
No. 5 - Crystallyn
No. 4 - Blue Kangaroo
No. 3 - Mikarrhea
No. 2 - Chewing on Pencils
No. 1 - the Ingredient
Thursday, December 04, 2003
Poet David Baker - Midwest Poet Series
David Baker appeared at the Midwest Poet Series for a reading last night. The event was held in Mabee Theater, Sedgwick Hall on the campus of Rockhust College in Kansas City.
Baker's works have been published in The Atlantic, The Nation, The New Yorker, New Letters and the Yale Review. While he grew up in Missouri he now resides in Ohio and teaches creative writing at Denison University. He has written six poetry books and is a recipient of a Guggenheim Fellowship.
His reading was well attended and was an enjoyable happening on a cold snowy Kansas City night. Bakers Missouri roots showed strongly in two of his poems, one to his Missouri grandmother and another unique piece that put himself and his family into one of Thomas Hart Benton's paintings. A very creative task to say the least considering the static nature of paintings.
There was an intense piece he wrote that referenced Seamus Heaney's translation of Beowulf. Then to change the pace a bit, The Truth About Small Towns which was like everyone in this little Ohio village had a voice in the poem.
He read a touching love piece he wrote about hands - which was based on a hand condition that was quite debilitating for his wife over a period of I believe a couple years.
My favorite was written about his "nearly twelve" year old daughter (nearly is important to her) who is ADHD. The poem is titled Hyper and it was so dramatic in it's ability to let you feel the turbulence associated with ADHD.
Not only is David Baker a gifted language artist, his reading style was most pleasing.
Baker's works have been published in The Atlantic, The Nation, The New Yorker, New Letters and the Yale Review. While he grew up in Missouri he now resides in Ohio and teaches creative writing at Denison University. He has written six poetry books and is a recipient of a Guggenheim Fellowship.
His reading was well attended and was an enjoyable happening on a cold snowy Kansas City night. Bakers Missouri roots showed strongly in two of his poems, one to his Missouri grandmother and another unique piece that put himself and his family into one of Thomas Hart Benton's paintings. A very creative task to say the least considering the static nature of paintings.
There was an intense piece he wrote that referenced Seamus Heaney's translation of Beowulf. Then to change the pace a bit, The Truth About Small Towns which was like everyone in this little Ohio village had a voice in the poem.
He read a touching love piece he wrote about hands - which was based on a hand condition that was quite debilitating for his wife over a period of I believe a couple years.
My favorite was written about his "nearly twelve" year old daughter (nearly is important to her) who is ADHD. The poem is titled Hyper and it was so dramatic in it's ability to let you feel the turbulence associated with ADHD.
Not only is David Baker a gifted language artist, his reading style was most pleasing.
Wednesday, December 03, 2003
The Demise Of Blogshares
Silent Lucidity has solved the mystery of why I could not get on blogshares earlier this week. (sigh) disappointed as I am I suppose I should consider this an opportunity to spend more time writing.
Tuesday, December 02, 2003
On Aging
"Old age is far more than white hair, wrinkles, the feeling that it is too late and the game finished, that the stage belongs to the rising generations. The true evil is not the weakening of the body, but the indifference of the soul." -André Maurois
Monday, December 01, 2003
Plum Ruby Review
The first issues of Plum Ruby Review is out and it looks to be a worthwhile read. I'll spend the next few days exploring it and have more to say about it by the weekend.
Friday, November 28, 2003
Remembering
Can you hear the silence
in the chilled winds
after the feast and fat bellies
brought us to a crawl
The moist eyes lubricate the memory
the heart weakens a bit in pain
loss can take from you like that
You are not forgotten
nor have you been replaced
the roots of such love run deep
and cannot simply be replenished
I choose to remember you in life...
the click of your happy feet upon the floor
the perpetual tail motion
the beauty of your long red hair that anyone could envy
but I cannot forget how you left
in my arms a year ago
our eyes silently saying goodbye
knowing neither had the power to stop your departure
though both our frail hearts so desperately desired to
[On this evening - 1 year ago, Barron - our beautiful long haired, red dachshund died in my arms. The last year and a half of his life, he was being treated for heart problems. He is missed daily.]
in the chilled winds
after the feast and fat bellies
brought us to a crawl
The moist eyes lubricate the memory
the heart weakens a bit in pain
loss can take from you like that
You are not forgotten
nor have you been replaced
the roots of such love run deep
and cannot simply be replenished
I choose to remember you in life...
the click of your happy feet upon the floor
the perpetual tail motion
the beauty of your long red hair that anyone could envy
but I cannot forget how you left
in my arms a year ago
our eyes silently saying goodbye
knowing neither had the power to stop your departure
though both our frail hearts so desperately desired to
[On this evening - 1 year ago, Barron - our beautiful long haired, red dachshund died in my arms. The last year and a half of his life, he was being treated for heart problems. He is missed daily.]
Wednesday, November 26, 2003
Poetics of Space
This Thanksgiving holiday - many will be entertaining extended family in their homes, or perhaps traveling to another's home for the holiday. We'll each experience various levels of comfort or uneasiness depending upon the environment in which we find ourselves. The Poetics of Space is an intriguing attempted to show how our perceptions of houses and other shelters shape our thoughts, memories, and dreams. From an office cubicle to our own home - creating feelings that impact our levels of personal comfort provided French philosopher, Gaston Bachelard the subject matter of a book on this topic.
Tuesday, November 25, 2003
The Michaela Tease
It appears Michaela is doing another road show. She pretends she won't leave her faithful readers lamenting her quieted blog while she is away. Ha! Another lap dance!
Mommy Dearest
Carol didn't want to be my mother.
Those were her words, I heard them
quite often in fact. I believed her.
The scowl on her face added sincerity.
Carol bids me to turn the entry light off on our way out.
I had it covered. I opened the car door for her first than
seated myself in the drivers seat, we pulled away.
I turned the radio station to NPR. Are we listening to that?
The question mark was missing from her voice. I changed
the dial as I turned onto Elm street. You were going through town? I smiled, oh the expressway would be best I guess. Why would I need a mother?
Those were her words, I heard them
quite often in fact. I believed her.
The scowl on her face added sincerity.
Carol bids me to turn the entry light off on our way out.
I had it covered. I opened the car door for her first than
seated myself in the drivers seat, we pulled away.
I turned the radio station to NPR. Are we listening to that?
The question mark was missing from her voice. I changed
the dial as I turned onto Elm street. You were going through town? I smiled, oh the expressway would be best I guess. Why would I need a mother?
Monday, November 24, 2003
This Woman Needs Help!
I just read a wonderfully insane poem and am convinced that the writer needs help. And I hope she gets it!
The help she needs is the fulfillment of her desire to get into the MFA program at the University of Houston. I adore her poem titled This is Not the First Time You can get both the poem and her blog about the style in which she aims her writing at the link.
Katey... I wish you every success in achieving your aspiration.
The help she needs is the fulfillment of her desire to get into the MFA program at the University of Houston. I adore her poem titled This is Not the First Time You can get both the poem and her blog about the style in which she aims her writing at the link.
Katey... I wish you every success in achieving your aspiration.
Friday, November 21, 2003
11.22
arthur, my arthur,
why and by whom?
your table split asunder in one afternoon
your blood splattered upon your queen
did so clash with pink.
grown men like babies bewailed;
moaning and weeping spread
beyond the grassy knoll
a tear touched my cheek
and froze in time
why and by whom?
your table split asunder in one afternoon
your blood splattered upon your queen
did so clash with pink.
grown men like babies bewailed;
moaning and weeping spread
beyond the grassy knoll
a tear touched my cheek
and froze in time
Thursday, November 20, 2003
Thursday - This and That
My thanks to Michaela Cooper for sharing the link to Samizdata.net which has a wonderful Lexicon of blog related words you likely have never heard of. I found looking at some of the terms very entertaining.
Silent Lucidity has moved sites. I've updated the link in the sidebar too.
Annie Sexton tribute this Sunday in Boston.
Exposing Injustice Through Poetry -- New poetry compilation seeks to highlight brutality of society
Silent Lucidity has moved sites. I've updated the link in the sidebar too.
Annie Sexton tribute this Sunday in Boston.
Exposing Injustice Through Poetry -- New poetry compilation seeks to highlight brutality of society
Wednesday, November 19, 2003
and the saddest, but hopeful thing of all...
Aimee's - What the Cabbies Said to Me Is so not bad... Unless perhaps you are using my teenage daughter's vernacular.
Tuesday, November 18, 2003
Bad Art
When I am finishing a picture I hold some God-made object up to it-a rock, a flower, the branch of a tree or my hand-as a kind of final test. If the painting stands up beside a thing man cannot make, the painting is authentic. If there's a clash between the two, it is bad art. -- Marc Chagall
His work was that curious mixture of bad painting and good intentions that always entitles a man to be called a representative British artist. -- Oscar Wild
His work was that curious mixture of bad painting and good intentions that always entitles a man to be called a representative British artist. -- Oscar Wild
Baculine Poet
Relegated to the corner stool
I contemplate my crime
Maybe it was meter, No
I bet it was my rhyme.
Felt ashamed and isolated till I realized
There are four corners and others too
Who are plagues against humanity
War mongers, ax murders and a slum lord I once knew.
Still, deviating from form at times
On others I did inflict
Malfeasance, but not without passion
Bad poems are my crimes.
I contemplate my crime
Maybe it was meter, No
I bet it was my rhyme.
Felt ashamed and isolated till I realized
There are four corners and others too
Who are plagues against humanity
War mongers, ax murders and a slum lord I once knew.
Still, deviating from form at times
On others I did inflict
Malfeasance, but not without passion
Bad poems are my crimes.
Monday, November 17, 2003
2003 War Poetry Contest - Winners
Winning Writers, founded in 2001 has announced this years winners of their War Poetry Contest. A total of 734 entries were received from around the world and the winning entry received a $1,000 cash award.
A Texan, Robert Randolph won first prize and $1,000 for his poem, "Floating Girl." Mr. Randolph entry was praised by Janet retire, contest judge for being, "delicately beautiful and strange imagery, its musical cadence that never falters."
Second place winner, Joel Long of Utah, received $500 for his poem, "Broken Windows at reins." The third place winner was Patricia Monaghan of Illinois, received $250 for her poem, "Soldier's Heart." In addition there were five other honorable mention poets receiving $50 each.
The poems are published online and can be seen at this site.
A Texan, Robert Randolph won first prize and $1,000 for his poem, "Floating Girl." Mr. Randolph entry was praised by Janet retire, contest judge for being, "delicately beautiful and strange imagery, its musical cadence that never falters."
Second place winner, Joel Long of Utah, received $500 for his poem, "Broken Windows at reins." The third place winner was Patricia Monaghan of Illinois, received $250 for her poem, "Soldier's Heart." In addition there were five other honorable mention poets receiving $50 each.
The poems are published online and can be seen at this site.
Friday, November 14, 2003
Sylvia
I've not yet seen the recent release movie Sylvia, but I have it on my growing list of things to do. In the meantime I note a negative assessment of the movie in a recent Slate piece by Meghan O'Rourke - Poetry's Lioness: Defending Sylvia Plath from her detractors.
There seems a resurgence of material being done on Plath on the 40th anniversary of her death. I have in fact milled through quite an array of material recently and still have more reading to do. I'd like to devote some more time on the subject of her life and her work - though I am not prepared to do so just yet. If anyone else has seen the movie and has comments, I'd like to hear from them.
There seems a resurgence of material being done on Plath on the 40th anniversary of her death. I have in fact milled through quite an array of material recently and still have more reading to do. I'd like to devote some more time on the subject of her life and her work - though I am not prepared to do so just yet. If anyone else has seen the movie and has comments, I'd like to hear from them.
Friday Brief
This is classic - "The the impotence of proofreading" - I actually thought it a hoot! Evidently Poetry is not setting well with others as reported here - Islamic Clerics Ban Poetry for Women
Wednesday, November 12, 2003
Humpdays Are Our Friends....
Alli's caught my attention again.
"A cynic is not merely one who reads bitter lessons from the past; he is one who is prematurely disappointed in the future." - Sydney Harris
I fear we have become too disappointed in that which has not yet arrived.
Do we all posses such clairvoyance or are we just too damned cynical in our belief that the future holds any hope?
"A cynic is not merely one who reads bitter lessons from the past; he is one who is prematurely disappointed in the future." - Sydney Harris
I fear we have become too disappointed in that which has not yet arrived.
Do we all posses such clairvoyance or are we just too damned cynical in our belief that the future holds any hope?
Monday, November 10, 2003
Perspective On The World...
"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my eyes and all is born again." - Sylvia Plath
Plath expresses a view of subjectivity that causes me to wonder within the context of today's happenings just how many Americans are going about daily with closed eyes. And I always thought the problem was closed minds.
Toche!
Plath expresses a view of subjectivity that causes me to wonder within the context of today's happenings just how many Americans are going about daily with closed eyes. And I always thought the problem was closed minds.
Toche!
Friday, November 07, 2003
Mystery
"An English poet, Philip Larkin, said that poetry doesn't start with an idea; it starts with a poem... You have t be open to mystery. If you are open to it, mystery will come. If you're not, why should it, actually?" - Lucille Clifton (b. 1936)
Wednesday, November 05, 2003
Is the week half empty or half full?
Looking for an interesting read and haven't seen it yet.... then check out K. Silem post on meter. A very worthwhile read on the subject of writing metrically, it's relative ease or difficulty and the degree to which the competence of such writing can be ascribed.
Today's thought:
"I've never had a schedule. I go simply by impulse, whim. What I do try to do is to keep my life uncluttered when I am not teaching, and therefore be able to harden to the first whisper of any idea." - Richard Wilber
Today's thought:
"I've never had a schedule. I go simply by impulse, whim. What I do try to do is to keep my life uncluttered when I am not teaching, and therefore be able to harden to the first whisper of any idea." - Richard Wilber
Tuesday, November 04, 2003
depression
i don’t pretend often.
where do you find these women who are
primitive creatures of habit? a different altogether
variety. and would that be silk flowers in the ming?
it’s not a real sport,
i seldom watch.
war i suppose. but the sweaty linebacker is
setting out the third quarter reading
sonnets and eating hot cheetos.
orange smudges frame the page corners. some
funky nickel play won the game. god,
football really has gotten cheap.
where do you find these women who are
primitive creatures of habit? a different altogether
variety. and would that be silk flowers in the ming?
it’s not a real sport,
i seldom watch.
war i suppose. but the sweaty linebacker is
setting out the third quarter reading
sonnets and eating hot cheetos.
orange smudges frame the page corners. some
funky nickel play won the game. god,
football really has gotten cheap.
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