Olympic blogging...

I decided to take the majority of my blogging away from the stickpoet site. This is not to say I will be neglecting poetry, but I felt better not comingling thing for the most part.

So here is the link to the site of my Olympic blogging.

The opening ceremony is not far off, but there is already sad news as a Georgian (country not our southern state) was killed today in a horrific accident during a trial run on the Whisler Slider Center track. This tragedy certainly will hang over the opening celebration. I'll be posting later from the new sight.

Blame It On Canada

I anticipate the Winter Olympics every four years like a four year old awaiting Christmas. My eyes wide open in wonderment. My heart races with the sound of the Olympic theme music. And it’s here. It all comes together tonight with the opening ceremonies in Vancouver. I’m Olympic Crazy and you can blame it on Canada!



I can recount many times in the past watching events; many wonderful moments that my wife and I shared together enjoying the games. We won’t get to see them start together tonight as she will be out of town till Sunday, but then games go on till February 28th so there will no doubt be some time for us to watch parts of it together.





I’m not nearly as captivated by the summer games, but so many of the winter games trill me. Among my favorite are the Alpine Skiing, Ski Jumping, Cross Country, Hockey, figure skating. I even like curling now… but there is more to that story at a later date. I even have my favorite Olympic Games. They are Sarajevo in 1984 and Lake Placid in 1980. I think ’80 mostly for the U.S. Hockey team’s Victory. And in Sarajevo the Alpine events were all astonishingly exciting. Plus the coverage of the people in the host city, the human interest stories were wonderful.





I will probably blog more about the Winter Games this year; I just have not decided it to set up a separate blog site for them or continue to post here. I’ve got a few hours yet to think about it. I’ll let you know what I decide.

Sylvia Plath 1932 - 1963

Today is the anniversary of Sylvia Plath’s death in 1963. It’s hard for me to understand that all these years later in some quarters the debate still rages as to the significance she plays in modern poetry.

One may or may not particularly like Plath’s poetry, but what poet’s work is universally appreciated. Many people cut their poetic teeth on Plath’s poems. I was one who was captivated by the powerful genius that propelled her language. It is not surprising to me that her poetry was particularly meaningful to many women, but it did surprise me that it could and did transcend gender in my case. While Plath was not the singular poet who inspired my interest in poetry to the extent that I too wanted to be a wordsmith, but she was certainly one of the cornerstones in building up that interest. I may not have found others to help cultivate that interest were it not for Plath.


I realize that one opinion far from constitutes a universal truth, but there is significant agreement among many that was a major force in poetry. I realize that many detractors maintain that Plath’s status is due in large part to her almost mythical life & death with emphasis on the latter. Obviously no one can ascertain the amount of attention drawn to Plath solely on the bases of her infamous death. What I don’t often hear from her detractors is specific arguments about her poetic form, syntax, subjects, devises, etc. Oh, a few will offer critical judgment of the confessional style that many believe her poetry tends to fall into, but those individuals will typically use that argument across the board for the likes of Berryman, Sexton, Lowell, Snodgrass, Starbuck, Snodgrass, et al.


It is hard to fault Plath’s craft; her ability to formulate and process language onto a page with a minimum of words and a maximum of authority over those words. Her work has earned her a spot among the major poets of our time. Her death is simply a sad footnote.


The Collected Poems (P.S.)  
Ariel: The Restored Edition
Crossing the Water
Collected Children's Stories (Faber Children's Classics)

Concert presents "T.S. Eliot's Poetry in Song" (Mississippi State University)

Concert presents "T.S. Eliot's Poetry in Song" (Mississippi State University)

STARKVILLE, Miss.--A unique Feb. 23 recital at Mississippi State will feature musical settings of several poems by the 20th century poet T.S. Eliot.
Sponsored by the university's music department, the 7:30 p.m. program in Giles Hall auditorium is free and open to all.

"T.S. Eliot's Poetry in Song," created and organized by department instructor and accompanist Karen Murphy, is the third collaboration with Nancy Hargrove, an MSU William L. Giles Distinguished Professor Emerita of English. Hargrove will provide an illustrated presentation, as well as introductions of each musical piece. Full Details Here.

Would You Could You En Route To Work

My daughter Shannon rode into the city with us today as her car was in the shop. Somehow our discussions always gravitate to something interesting, and not uncommonly something related to poetry.


My wife made some comment about something being like a poetic moment, to which I asked if one can actually have a poetic moment without being a poet. [I take such abuse from them I felt compelled to stir the pot a bit] Knowing neither would likely admit to being poets I was anxious to learn their take on this. The discussion then digressed and traveled down a couple of divergent paths.


Our discussion followed a news story on NPR about some changes in various mental illness categories in the revised DSM. The DSM is the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. It’s like the trade “bible” for mental health professionals. My wife wondered aloud if poets had a classification within the updated DSM. Of course the three of us chuckled although mine was half hearted and mostly for aesthetic value.


Shannon then pronounced that she wanted to become a limerick artist. That she felt limericks have been marginalized by society and that she would like to help them regain proper stature. I suppose the same could be said for poetry in general. The discussion then took yet another turn to Dr. Seuss and his writing style. Morning drive time can be so fun.

Confession Tuesday

It's Confession Tuesday, and this is my first confession post.

A little background-

I cannot take credit for Confession Tuesday. I first saw in at Kells, but soon realized that others are doing so as well. As far as I know, besides Kells there's January O'Neil, and Black-eyed Susans that have kept this practice up. If I've missed someone, I apologize. That's the basics... I'm off to the Confessional.

I confess that I've stewed over doing this for some time now. Mostly for fear I'd look like a copy-cat. This brings me to the matter of worry about how people see you. I confess that I sometimes become too preoccupied with this. Not always though. Sometimes I admit I don't care what anyone thinks. I would do well to find a happy medium, but I tend to favor the worry-side unfortunately. Some of this may be residual from years of high profile politically. I'm working to moderate it. Really I am.

As noted in a post from this past weekend I admit I get majorly stressed out doing our taxes. While this is no secret, I confess it really feels good when they are finished.

I confess I'm a coffee snob. The coffee at the office is really horrible and way too weak. I generally make it espresso strength at home. I have to be able to walk across the surface of it.

I confess that I rarely read for purely pleasure. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy reading poetry (much of it anyway) but when I read it, I always consider it a part of my broader writerly responsibility/education.

This past weekend I went to B&N and bought a journal refill for my leather journal binder.  As I get close to finishing a journal I get excited about starting a new clean journal. One without chicken scratching and strike throughs, etc. I confess it is usually only a couple to maybe three days into a new journal before I feel it's been tainted with imperfection.  I confess I see this revolving door starting all over.

That's about it for my first blog confession. See you next Tuesday!

Unconscious Mutterings week 367

You say.... I think:

Humbled :: Modest
Buns :: Honey
Snowstorm :: Blizzard
Sweetheart :: Roses
Punch:: Face
Glass :: Bottle
Classical :: Gas
Heels :: High
Twitter :: Tweet
Husband :: Spouse
 
 
get you own list