Banned Book Week - Thought for the day

What progress we are making.  In the Middle Ages they would have burned me.  Now they are content with burning my books.  ~Sigmund Freud, 1933

Confession Tuesday

I'm tired as I shuffle into the confessional tonight. 

Dear reader~

This seemed to be an exceedingly long day and I'm ready to get my confessions over with.

It's been one week since my last confession and it has been another week since I last submitted any work to the publishing world. Too many weeks I confess. So many that I am ashamed to offer a number so I won't.  It's not that I haven't been writing - just not submitting lately.

I also have to confess that I have become as scarce within the local poetry community as an ashtray in a hospital. Yes, I need to get out more often. I don't think I've read in public since April. Saying that sound worse. Ugh~

I've already mentioned in my blog this week that when I received my copy of Letters from the Emily Dickinson Room straight through without stopping when it arrived in the mail Saturday. I did not however mention just how rare this is for me. Because I have adult ADD I confess that it would be quite rare for me to do this because staying with a book that long without breaks can be quite frustrating at times.

I had Hamburger Helper Lasagna for dinner. I confess that I had been craving this for weeks. I don't think I've eaten it in years but I guess I had a bout of box dinner nostalgia.  I confess that it was "all that!"

Hope everyone has a great week. Till next Tuesday, I'm all confessed out.

Another Quote for Banned Book Week

We are not afraid to entrust the American people with unpleasant facts, foreign ideas, alien philosophies, and competitive values.  For a nation that is afraid to let its people judge the truth and falsehood in an open market is a nation that is afraid of its people.  ~John F. Kennedy


       

Monday Mentions

A few things in no particular order of importance...

• It's banned Book Week and in recognition thereof, the following quote by Justice Potter Stewart - Censorship reflects society's lack of confidence in itself.  It is a hallmark of an authoritarian regime. 
• I was delighted to get my copy of Letters From The Emily Dickinson Room in the mail Saturday. It was in the quiet of the afternoon that I read it through completely the first time. I will have more to say about it later this week, but I was so impressed by it I could not out it down.
• The Top Ten Ludicrous Reasons To Ban A Book
• The Ten Muses of Poetry
• I find the following both a disheartening and frightening aspect of the President's position on privacy.
• TAKE A POEM - LEAVE A POEM

Quiet Pleased - Letters From The Emily Dickinson Room came in the mail.

My copy of Letters From The Emily Dickinson Room arrived in the mail.

I cannot be disturbed!

Doggie Angst

After a day of behaving beautifully while men were trimming the maples in our back yard for about 4-1/2 hours, in early evening I left my journal on the bed and went out back with my wife for maybe 15 minutes. Upon return, Mo had decided to add a few non-verbal thoughts to my journal.  Fortunately he was kind to the leather and just worked on a couple of pages. I suppose he was expressing himself so how angry can I be. He just needs to have his own journal for the future. Mine is not meant to be a collaborative venture.

Magpie Tales 33



The Other Woman

I stare into the mirror

at the dressing table.

Another woman looks

back—

a young woman

amazingly foreign

to the ordinary geography

of my world;

black dress, string of pearls,

she draws her inner wrists
to her face, fair in the silver tone
background—

gently the essence of rose
regal and voluminous
laced in lilac and vanilla
rises as she fills her chest.

How different
from the aroma
of tomato sauce
crowed out by basil,
garlic and pepperoni
amid the musty smell
of dishes from the morning
mingling in the sink with those
the night before—

2010© Michael A. Wells - all rights reserved

Magpie Tales 33

Confession Tuesday - The simple and the complex edition

If you've come for the weekly confession, you're just in time. Come along...

Dear Reader,

It's been one week since my last confession and I have several things to confess this morning.

I confess that I remain in awe of the things in life that are simple and yet complex. A simple sunrise this morning (pictured here) greeted me. The layers of cloud cover with openings of sky soft pinks and orange and brilliant amber.

I confess that I am amazed that we (that I) can see with my own eyes things as spectacular as a sunrise like this. That these brown eyes of mine can take it all in and that somehow my mind processes all this and that I can in fact distinguish this as something of beauty.

I too confess that I am so impressed that we (people) can actually communicate such abstract things as beauty and hope and love and fear and desire and all these things that we take for granted as though they just happen and there is nothing complicated about the process of people coming to understand words that define such concepts.

Sure, I realize there are miraculous things that are happening every day in science.  But wow, you don't have to be looking through a microscope, a telescope, examining the contents of test tubes and petri dishes. There is awesomeness enough all around us if we just stop and take a deep breath and take it all in.

Magpie Tales 32

Time

A stingy creation of man
himself—

we are cursed
by its gritty currency
that will not be told
to sit still or held
but sifts through the fingers
and is lost in yesterday
and the days before
until reduced to memories
or specks of sand
one indistinguishable
moment from the other.


© 2010 Michael A. Wells

Magpie Tales 32

Everything is Nearly Right With The World This Morning

The Giants are in first place!  Wahoo!

Poetry Books and Jelly Bellies

Tools of the trade at a poetry gathering.

Confession Tuesday

Tuesday again...  I'm off to the confessional... hurry along.

Dear Reader-

It's been a week since my last confession and I'm here before you with much to lay out on the table.

Last night Monday Night Football came to Kansas City. It's another sign that the baseball season is on the way out.  I've never been a big football fan. It's baseball that has my heart. A number of years ago I was into the 49ers Football when Montana was quarterback and before that Minnesota when Tarkington was QB but never have I felt about football the way I do baseball. I confess that I often get cranky about it encroaching on the last weeks of baseball.  And while I am feeling that way right this moment, my son texted me a few weeks ago and told me to keep the date open of the Chiefs-49ers game because he had tickets for us. Ok, I have to confess right here in front of the Gods  of the the ball diamond I'm excited about a 49ers game with my son.  I'm still thinking football has no business sharing the limelight with baseball as the season climaxes in the fall classic. I confess this leaves me feeling schizophrenic.

Tonight I attended a poetry group meeting of some friends. I was pretty taxed after work and a part of me just wanted to skip it but I confess it was nice reading poems and doing some writing from a prompt.
I shared a poem each by Marie Howe and Susan Rich. Also some of my own writing.

One of my writing friends named Pat has a book that has a page to read a day. She finds it especially uplifting and each day writes her own thoughts and observations in the margins, and these sometimes turn into poems. Do any of us write in margins she inquired? I confess to marginal writing on occasion.

Well, I'd like to confess to something that raised a few eyebrows  or started some gossip but alas, you just got all the juice for the week. Until next time, thanks for listening.

Love this quote

Ink on paper is as beautiful to me as flowers on the mountains; God composes, why shouldn't we? ~Terri Guillemets

Magpie Tales 31

I Saw


Framed within
weathered window panes
in the late afternoon
when shadows and light
toy with us—

filtered through a grotto
of trees reflected in glass;
I saw a veiled mother
awash in Kodachrome
as I imagined she might
appear to three children.

 
 
 
© 2010 Michael A. Wells
 
Magpie Tales 31

Examining the Fear Factor

Reading Susan Rick's recent post with excerpt from her interview struck me because of her wealth of  personal experience and  her own cultural background. What she says on this subject is profoundly significant.

HUMANITIES WASHINGTON: There's Nothing to Be Afraid Of

Confession Tuesday - Troubled by posts edition

My calendar says today is Tuesday but my body thinks it is Monday. I suppose this should be a good thing because it means the next weekend is a day closer but in reality it probably means that come Thursday or Friday it will seem like the week is in s-l-o-w  m-o-t-i-o-n. Since it is none the less Tuesday, let’s head to the confessional.


Dear reader-

I have a confession to make. Even as this blog passes its seven year anniversary, and the main theme of it is poetry, I have difficulty posting poetry on it. I know that sounds crazy but let me explain.

Sometimes I’ve posted snippets from my journal and occasionally they are a line or two that I really like (feel comfortable with) but I don’t often post poems that I believe are my best work. So I confess that readers are often short changed (hanging my head in shame) because the better stuff that I write is held back to be sent off as submissions to this journal and that journal. Maybe in reading some of my writing here you’ve already thought, “boy, is this the best he can do?” Anyway, aside from things already published elsewhere first, I’ve probably been pretty selective in what I’ve posted. This makes me feel disingenuous, and every once and a while it really bothers me that I am feeling such.

I suspect there are others who do the same, but I have no way of knowing this for sure. Of is they do, that they too are troubled by this.

I suppose I should be putting my best foot forward in everything I write and post. I should take the position that if I would not submit this poem to a journal it should not go on this blog post. But of course what would that leave me to sending out very little or I’d have to be a lot more prolific with dazzling material. You see the dilemma.

The Magpie posts that I have started doing may be a way of feeling better about this. I say that because if I write something from a Magpie Tales prompt then I already have decided it goes on the blog. These pieces are not ever planned to become submittable material but in creating them I always hope to hit upon something that would work – should work and hopefully does work well. I don’t know for sure if over time these will appear to me to ease what I described as above and that I will feel more straightforward about my writing I expose on the blog, but I can hope.

Thanks for listening.

Thought for the week ahead...

It is perfectly okay to write garbage--as long as you edit brilliantly.  - C. J. Cherryh

Speak Out Against Hate

There is a part of me that hesitates to mention this because I'm reluctant to want to give theses people any more publicity than they have already garnered.  This reluctance however is overridden because of the insanity displayed by the actions of these few individuals and the degree to which their actions incite and foster misinformation and hatred in this country.  It would seem that we are not exactly in short supply of ignorance these days and I believe ignorance is a dangerous thing.

The Dove World Outreach Center in Gainesville, Fla. has called for a 'Burn the Koran Day.' It says the burnings will be held on church grounds "in remembrance of the fallen victims of 9/11 and to stand against the evil of Islam.

It seems incredible that persons professing to be Christians would demonstrate such a hateful act considering:

• A fundamental precept of the Christian faith is to love not hate your neighbor.
• That there are 9-11 families that have openly asked that this day not be politicized.
• That there are Muslims that were also killed in 9-11. Both victims in the Twin Towers and first responders.
• They surely would not appreciate someone else hosting a massive Bible burning day.
• The the actions do not foster peace and understanding but rather hate and more ignorance and revenge.
• This is one more act that causes persons around the world to view Americans in a negative light.

I suspect the Church believes in what they are doing but there are perhaps other motives. They sell T-shirts at $20 a pop as wells as other items. The city of Gainsville has denied them a permit but they plan to go ahead.

These actions seeks to cloak all of the Islam religion in the actions of a few terrorists on 9-11.  This would be like saying all Catholics, Boy Scout leaders and Christians are child molesters because some of those connected with their organizations were.  Certainly the actions of  The Dove World Outreach Center have the potential to give others utilizing the same narrow view to think the same about all Christians or all Americans.

Americans of all faith and even non-believers need to speak up on this. Public Officials need to forcefully reject this notion that there is some righteous end in this kind of thinking and such actions.  To the extent we have already seen across this country violence and vandalism in isolated instances associated with this kind of behavior it is clear that there are those among us that can easily be persuaded to such actions, and the likes of Pastor Terry Jones are simply a can of gasoline looking for a fire.

Magpie Tales 30

[two writes this week]

One Bite

All alone
on the kitchen table
red, freckled
and blemished;
awaiting a suitor
who could appreciate
my inner beauty—

and you came,
took one bite
and left.





First Bite

A violent sound
a chunk of an iceberg
splitting off the core
and falling away—

a starburst of juice
cascades over and about
the gums; roll to the tongue
exploding in flavor.

This is no ordinary apple;
one in season,
ripe with intensity
to awaken.





© 2010 Michael A. Wells



Magpie Tales 30

Round The Net

I've struggled yesterday and today to write a post prompted by Magpie 30.  Right now I'm in from mowing our back yard and recouperating before I tackle the front. I thought I'd post a few poetry related links while I'm resting.

She delt with the uncertainty of fate of family and friends in Haiti after a massive earthquake with poetry.

The poet Diane Lockwood has provided a list of online Journals that she has given a thumbs up to. Credit to Kristin Berkey Abbott for her post that lead me there.

Banned Book Week is coming up.

At 26, I'm part of a generation raised on gadgets, but actual books are something I just refuse to give up story at SALON

Gratitude Journal

• The touch of a hand to my arm or shoulder in bed at night or early morning.
• Quick Trip when you need a diet coke.
• Knowing the Padres lose on nights the when the Giants don't win so  they lose no ground in the standings.
• Toilet paper in the utility closet when the spool is empty.
• Friday Night TV with Cathy.

Head Start on Labor Day Weekend

It was take it or lose it time for vacation so I took a vacation day.  This afternoon I did a  double platelet donation at the blood center, came home, did some cleaning and cooked dinner for my sweetheart! Stuffed Peppers.

My amusement for the day come from the following quote:

That's the way it is with poetry: When it is incomprehensible it seems profound, and when you understand it, it is only ridiculous. -Galway Kinnell

Seven year and 2634 posts later....

Stickpoet Super Hero celebrates another anniversary!

The Truth about Writers, Chocolate and Booze

I think Christine Klocek-Lim has hit upon something over at November Sky Poetry.

Confession Tuesday

Tuesday evening and I'm here for one reason.... Confession Tuesday.

Let's go to the Confessional.

Dear reader~  Where has the Summer gone? I must confess that the older I get the swifter our seasons seem to come and go.  Last weekend I was in a Target store and heard some teenager telling her mom that "xyz" store already had their Christmas displays going up. Really- before the end of August!!??

I suppose it is only natural that time seems to go faster as we get older. I think as we age and take on responsibilities we must think less about seasons or even months and more about paydays.  We seem to move between paydays swiftly. Like maybe we simply live for the next payday. At least that is what it seems like to me.

I confess I wish for some different benchmark to look forward to. I'm open to suggestions.

A Writers Cottage

It’s where quaint and secluded
merge back from the road,
nestled in the verdant treed lot
where even the postman
never comes. It is here

by the fire at night
I read what I wish
till my book falls helpless
into my lap
until supple rays find my face
while birds scold me awake

and with brawny coffee
I embark on the new day
with the purity of paper
void of anything
and my head chasing
transitory images
to pen down on the page.

 
 
© 2010 – Michael A. Wells
 
 
 A part of Magpie Tales 29

A Collision of Past and Future

I read Victoria Chang's second book before I read Circle which gave me reason for pleasant surprise. You could easily be fooled into believing this work is anything but a first book. There is cohesiveness in Circle that many poets have not mastered in their second or third publication.

In Circle Chang embraces an exposition of culture and gender in ways that are not worn or over worked. She demonstrates the spiral collision of past and future. She is often edgy but her word skills have a well controlled precision that can slip a point past you like smooth butter.

I especially enjoyed the following poems: Lantern Festival, Seven Changs, To Want, Kitchen Aid Epicurean Stand Mixer and On Quitting.

Circle was a winner of the Crab Orchard Series in Poetry Open Competition Award and was published by Southern Illinois University Press.

A Driveway Moment Missed

Just returned from a brisk evening walk with MO (pictured left), the weather is so nice, I hope tomorrow is a xerox copy.

 

Earlier today I had NPR on in the car listening to Michael Feldman's Whad'Ya Know? and he had as a guest Ayelet Waldman the author of Bad Mother.  It was one of those "driveway moments" or should have been as I had arrived at my destination and really wanted to hear the rest, but couldn't (I'll have to await podcast).  I haven't read her book but she was hysterical on the show.

 

Evidently she was at one tine a public defender and married to a writer she decided whe wantd to do what he does... write for four hours a day and well, do whatever the rest of the day. Of course in order to do that you have to become successful at writing, which evidently she has. Her 2005 New Yourk Times Essay about sex and motherhood opened a lot of eyes. The essay titled Truly, Madly, Guiltily can be read here.

A review of her book: BAD MOTHER A Chronicle of Maternal Crimes, Minor Calamities, and Occasional Moments of Grace published by Doubleday can be found here.

Gag Me With A Spoon!

E-books purchased in Apple's iBookstore may soon include iAds. "If you flip to page forty of Jonathan Lethem's Chronic City, you may be served an iAd instead of page forty-one." (CNET)

Keep Language Alive!

"No doubt some languages have died, but we don't know which ones they were." - William Matthews

Confession Tuesday - you are what you read edition

Tuesday again… this time I’m prompt. I actually have to say I’ve thought a lot about this confession so let’s get started.




Dear reader:

 That sounds funny addressing you as reader when my confession today is about me as a reader. Yesterday I was reading something – I don’t recall what exactly when this came to me as I read a number of articles and blogs yesterday, but I thought back over my own reading past experiences and realized I have a problem.

 All right, I have a number of problems so don’t go there. The problem I’m confessing is my reading habits. If I were looking at what I read as a menu of food I eat, I would be totally deficient in some vitamins and minerals.

 My own book shelves basically can be divided into three sections - poetry/poetics, baseball, political - biographical. Actually I have a number of biographical that are linked to poetry as well.

I don’t as a rule read novels. Occasionally I’ve read a science fiction. When I was younger I read fiction and a fair amount of historical fiction but as I grew older most of my reading had a more direct purpose.

 I confess this is not a totally new revelation to me, but thinking at in the context of contributing to some kind of deficiency is quite frankly a new and startling insight or self discovery. And here is the rub… a part of me says at my age why care? If given the choice what to sit down and read this very afternoon I would likely not stray from the comfort of my well worn path. Yet, there is this part of me that says perhaps I could be a better, a stronger writer if I opened myself to broader tastes in reading. It’s a thought.

 I’ll let you know where this leads, if anywhere.

After Work

AFTER WORK

The ringing in my ear
the desk clutter—
post-its, a pile of unreturned
messages, half finished report,
the missing file that haunted me
all the way home—

the stop and go traffic on I-70,
sloshed latte in my lap,
the SUV on my ass,
news of floods, more IEDs,
unemployment, casualties,
mosque, no mosque—

all dispersed in a floral medley
of gentle bath bubbles and oils
nibbling my toes.


© 2010 – Michael A. Wells



Part of Magpie Tales 28

Saturday Seven Recommended Posts

I have planned for a good part of the day to stop and post today but one delay seemed to lead to another and here I am at 9:30 typing this.  My wife and I did  take time to watch a couple of movies.... Leap Year and The Invention of Lying. They were both enjoyable - not award winners but something to relax to and share time together.

Over the past few days I've seen some really good posts around the blog world and I thought I'd point out a few that I'd recommend.

• Poet Mom continued a conversation on underrated poets and asked for other suggestions.
• Kelly Wantuch provides an interesting take on photo art.
• Terresa Wellborn's powerful words in A Different Leaving.
• Just found this cool site thanks to The Chocolate Chip Waffle.
• Poem by Polly McCann ADD MOM
• Poet Trading Cards at Poets United
• Susan Rich's poem Mohamud at the Mosque

Happy reading~

Thursday Thought

The modern artist is working with space and time and expressing his feelings rather than illustrating. - Jackson Pollock

Mid-day

Window view distracts
Progress on work seems jerky
Rather be outside

Confession Tuesday - better late then never edition...

Dear Reader- I was asleep at the switch. Tuesday came and went and I confess I did not once think about confession. Perhaps it’s because there seemed nothing nagging at my mind. Even now, it seems my confession omission is the most exciting thing to report.


Ah, but there is something people who know me would be surprised to know. The past two days I have actually pulled for the Chicago Cubs to win games. Not of course every game, or just any game, but specifically those in their series against the Padres. This I confess is revenge and preservation. The revenge is for the Padres taking 2 games of a 3 game series against the San Francisco Giants, and preservation for assuring the tightness of the division race in the NL west. This should surprise you because the Cubs are one of a few teams I normally always would root against. I don’t go as far as making voodoo team dolls and trying to render certain teams lame… If they are lame, they are just lame on their own.



I confess I had a really strange and intricate dream last night that I keep remembering bits and pieces of. Could this find its way into a future poem?



I confess that I truly believe that as many as a third of the people in this country have no clue about fundamental issues, history, geography and current events. I also believe that many of these same people comprise a very vocal part of society that tends to consider themselves infallible and anointed with absolute truth. I had this thought yesterday though a less refined part of this assessment has been in my mind for many years now. I do however believe that more of these people are becoming involved. They are drawn to and are easily persuadable by others that can roughly be described the same way. How did we get so lucky? That’s totally rhetorical and I’m not looking for a bunch of comments.



Thanks for hanging in with me. Maybe next week I can be on time.

They're Back!

Yesterday morning as I was leaving for work I was greeted by geese.  We have a baseball field directly across the street from us and during their migration - twice a year we are visited by geese. They are astonishing in flight and fascinating to watch when they stopover to rest on the ball field. There were some 20 birds yesterday. I never know what to expect. Several years ago my daughter and I counted over a hundred of them on the field.

 

If you haven't caught it, Kelli Agodon has a great post on The Art of the Blurb.  She has had so many good writing advise posts to questions that have been posed to her recently so if you haven't been to her blog recently or like ever, I recommend it. Book of Kells.  I'm a pretty avid reader of Kelli's blog and as summer arrives she usually announces that she will be somewhat sporadic in her posts. My first reaction is of course a sigh. But each summer she will field questions and do responses or offer some writerly wisdom on her own.  She may not post as frequently, but the posts are always insightful.  It's no wonder she generally receives so many comments to her posts. 

 

Well, it's hump day and I've sinned. I missed Confession Tuesday. How did that happen anyway?  Well, I will have to collect myself and head to the confessional later today.

 

 

Understanding

Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.  -Carl Jung

Revelation on Some Level

Presently the curb doesn't seem quite so fixed
the street lamps reflect pyramids
the pavement is the most permanent
I've experienced since I got out of bed
this morning I had no idea




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Food For Thought

Hunger also changes the world - when eating can't be a habit, then neither can seeing.  ~ Maxine Hong Kingston




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Music to my Ear

 

This morning I put on a play list of music that I've made specifically to write by. The first notable impact was that time became irrelevant to me. No clock watching was a good thing. It, along with other distractions were gone. Poof!

 

To say that I wrote the best ever would be a stretch but that isn't what is important. I was at ease and I was more productive in the time that I did allocate - which incidentally I ran past without notice till after the fact.

 

I worked on  completely new material. A project that I've had in mind but had not committed to paper in any way yet.  I started in my journal in long hand. Later in the morning I took it to my laptop and did some early cutting of excess. It's a start but I was very happy with it.

 

Early evening I got out for a photo shoot. Then came home and mowed the back yard.  The weather was nicer today then we've had for a while. It's been really hot here. Much more productive day then yesterday.

Can I have a Saturday do-over?

 

 

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Confession Tuesday

Forgive me dear reader, it's late and I'm tired. I confess I seriously considered skipping Confession today but that seemed so lazy and I did not want the guilt of feeling lazy. I've been very detail orientated today at work and I'm more mentally drained than physically tired.  But enough of that,,, it's confession time, let's get started.

A really strange thing occurred today at the office. I confess aging has been a fear of mine since - well since I turned at least 25. Yes, I said twenty-five.  I admit that the alternative to aging (death) is not real attractive either. But I digress-

This afternoon I paused as I was working in a project at my computer and looked down at my hand. I think I recall scratching the of my left hand with my right.  I noticed in the desk lighting that the back of my hand seemed more tanned than I would have thought. upon closer look it appeared to me that my skin seemed rougher... more wrinkled then I had ever noticed. This freaked me out!

I know this all sounds so silly, but somehow what I saw of my hands said more to me then looking in a mirror in the morning, Then looking at any of my recent pictures. I confess I freaked out!

Even as I write this tonight and look at my hands (admittedly in different lighting) they don't seem to freak me out like they did this afternoon.  I suppose this was simply a case of heightened anxiety and I confess that it makes me feel really silly.

Why can't I look at my overall view of aging as just something silly too?






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Their Hold on Me

They block the solar waves of summer

pounding the earth like arrows
and hold onto me by a plexus mass
spreading like a cancer through me

I'm unable to stop them
all summer long
they are rooted in my memory
and even as the fall turns on them
and the winter harshness beats them
brown and mats them
against my icy black loam
their hold on me is parasitical-
they will be back in spring



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U.S. for first time sends official representatives to Hiroshima Memorial Service in Japan

Yesterday was the 65th anniversary of the atomic bomb drop on Hiroshima. In all these years since the event tragically killing some 145,000 civilians, the U.S. has for the first time this year sent a high level American official to the memorial held annually in Japan.  In cities in countries around the wold others too have paused to remember the horrific event. It is only fitting that we join others in recognizing this day, that we may acknowledge risks posed by nuclear proliferation and work to create world consensus to reduce these ricks.

Shuji Kajiyama / AP - photo credit

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I wonder too...

Writing is a form of therapy; sometimes I wonder how all those who do not write, compose or paint can manage to escape the madness, melancholia, the panic and fear which is inherent in a human situation. ~Graham Greene




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Night with Poets

Last night I ventured north of the river to a poetry meeting at the Boardwalk Library. There were quite a few of my friends from the Kansas City Metro Verse group that went to check out a somewhat newer Northland Poetry group and to my surprise the convener, Polly McCann, is the daughter of a couple my wife and I know but have not seen in goodness-  more than a decade!

We shared some poetry from other poets. I chose a Susan Rich poem to read which was kind of fun because it was an opportunity to introduce to the group a poet new to them. Then those of us who had material of our own in draft or finished read these as well.

We wrapped up the evening with a writing prompt.

Polly has apparently been writing a poem a day since January. Her blog can be found here.  I was especially impressed with the photographs of some of her own artwork which graces the blog too!

Good to see Ralph, Pat, Brenda, Becky, and Linda as well.


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Confession Tuesday - Who am I edition

I get a journaling prompt e-mailed to me each week and it just to happened that the one for today struck me as perfect to incorporate into my Tuesday Confession, so if you’ll follow me to the box, I’ll get started.

Identity - my true identity reveals itself when_________.   Finishing this statement reveals some attributes that are probably quite revealing.

I think my identity is quite driven by those gut feelings that are so strongly associated with my concept of fairness and justice. I confess this all seems to be driven by a passion for order. I don’t mean a clean desk. I confess I am not well ordered in that respect. What I mean is a societal order. Civility, if you will. I confess I am a bit of an Arthurian personality. I would have done well sitting at the “round table” as fairness and justice were the order of diplomacy. I suppose this is the basis for a good deal of my very strong political views. I confess that I’m driven by the notion that fairness and order in society doesn’t just happen on its own. It also, I confess doesn’t always happen when left to the devise of others. I have become more cynical of “others” making good decisions and that is problematic for two reasons. One being cynical leads to frustration and pessimism. Neither of which are good for the soul. The other is that it can create tension when strong passionate core principals seem counter to those of others you come in contact with. I’m not a person who can hide my identity well.


You know how some people don’t like others to know how they vote? People who believe what they do behind the curtain (yes at one time they existed) of the voting booth is a private matter. I’m not quite like that. Yard signs, bumper stickers political buttons have been a fixture of my life since before I could vote. My identity is in much of what I do is an open book. For example, my screen names or nick names online have always been identity extensions of my interests. Highnside came from my love of the game of baseball. Stickpoet, my love for writing poetry. I confess I would not make a good Chameleon. I don’t suppress my identity well. I tend to stand out.



I confess I don’t see what my identity reveals about me as being all good or all bad. It’s just who I am and at this stage of my life I don’t know what it would take to change it if I wanted to.



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Finding the breath in your words

Anais Nim's words I quoted in my last blog post have stuck with me overnight and upon waking this morning it followed me off to work where it nagged at me all day long. I decided her words are worth recall when I sit down to write.


Sometimes picking up a pen to write and committing the ink to the page can become rather automatic and there are times it seems I start without any appreciation for what I may be putting on the page. Getting to that starting point as a force of habit seems to be a good thing, but really having that deep pressing need to breathe through what you are saying or a song to sing or voice crying out is what gives meaning to what one puts on the page.  I truly believe Nim's words speak a truth.


It's my goal this week to do one of these three things in all I write. If I can at the end of the week I can say honestly that I've done this... alleluia!



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If...

If you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don't write, because our culture has no use for it. ~ Anais Nin




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Concrete Poetry in rural France

Concrete Poetry in rural France

The international movement of Concrete Poetry is described as ‘works where the typographical arrangement of words is as important in conveying the intended effect as the conventional elements of the poem, i.e. the words, the rhythm, the rhyme and so on’ – the words themselves form a picture. The 1950’s pioneers were the De Campo brothers Haroldo and Augusto (who published Teoria da poesia concreta in 1965), and the CDLA exhibition also carries works of Ian Hamilton Finlay (founder of Wild Hawthorn Press, publisher of the Poor. Old. Tired. Horse. periodicals), the French poet Pierre Garnier, Robert Lax, Liliane Lijn, Paul de Vree, Bob Cobbing and Dom Sylvester Houédard to name a few. In an epoch where the world’s publishing industries look to how literature might be played out on new digital platforms, it’s fascinating to see how these poets, typographers and designers from the 1950s onwards were creating these visual feasts using letters, words and poetry – the very page acting as platform

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