The Poetry Deal by Diane di Prima

I found this wonderful piece of writint at SF Gate.  Below I'll leave you with an explanation by the poet laureate of San Francisco Diane di Prima - I could identify with so much of it.  After you read it - follow the link and read "The Poetry Deal"


Diane di Prima is San Francisco's poet laureate. About "The poetry deal:" I committed myself to a life of poetry at the age of 14, as a sophomore in high school. I'd been writing some poetry since I was 7, but to me "commitment" meant that I'd write something every day, and would learn all I could about the craft of the poem. As the years passed, I kept doggedly at it, writing, studying obsessively, and always avoiding classes and workshops. By the time I was 24, I was putting out a book a year. Forty years after that commitment, it occurred to me that - selfless and unquestioning as the creative life is - there actually is something like a contract between me and my art.

click below

The Poetry Deal by Diane di Prima

On Death

[Maybe it's a little too close to tax day, but today's prompt is to write a death poem. You can write about a specific death or consider death as an idea. In the tradition of Emily Dickinson (and other poets), you could even address Death as an entity. Or you can surprise us with a different spin on the subject.]



From birth we commence
with dying. —with no understanding
of this fact or knowledge of what death is.


Our life is wrought with death daily,
we experience it in little things—


first, cheap toys that that break down
and leave us…


the randomness of an ant crushed
under our feet…


the spider your mother took out
with the sole of her shoe…


the naked baby bird
fallen from a nest— it's beak open
it's neck broken.


It becomes more personal
with the death of a pet. A dog
or cat, or turtle… something to which
we've grown attached
up and dies…


and we learn
the deeper meaning of sadness—
more profound than the plastic decoder ring
that was broken and thrown out;
and I think


each time we see death
the world dies a little bit more
for what has passed on


and as children we are often spared
the trip to the funeral home because we are
so young; but at what point…
at what point do any of us
achieve understanding? At what point
do we suddenly have a comfort level?
I think never…


for death stalks us
day in
day out—


it will wait for us.

Unconscious Mutterings Week 376

You say... I think:

• 1.Habit :: Nun
• 2.Relaunch :: Program
• 3.Mondays :: Manic
• 4.Bootstrap :: Pullup
• 5.Funk ::  Mayor
• 6.Appreciate :: Love
• 7.Yay! :: Overjoyed
• 8.Life ::  Sentence
• 9.Sheets ::  Paper
• 10.Date night ::  Friday Night

get your own list here

Jeweled Island

[For today's prompt, take the phrase "(blank) Island," replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write the poem. You could do a well-known island, such as "Treasure Island," "Ellis Island," or "Total Drama Island." Or you could make up the name of an island. Or you could even have a long drawn out title, such as "You'll never get me on an island" or "If I were on a deserted island."]



Jeweled Island



The beaches, vast in topaz crumbs
sparkle against the morning sunlight
and the deep blue waters ripple in
with a white foam tide.

Coconut trees are heavy with
fire opal fruit and near by
yellow tourmaline bananas
dangle above us.

In the distance, beyond
the lush jaded grasses
mountains of blood stone
and onyx rise high into the sky—

some snowcapped in diamond.

LOVE

[Two for Tuesday time!  Here are today's two prompts:
1. Write a love poem.  2. Write an anti-love poem.]


Love—

feels like a silky blanket
or binky that pacifies—

it's the best fitting jeans we've ever had—

the shoes you almost forget
are on your feet.



Love is—

the exhilaration of free fall—

invigorating as standing beneath
a cascade—

cool as a tall glass of iced tea
on a summer day—

warm as a hot coco & marshmallows
on a winter night—

it can rage like a forest fire engulfing—

it can race the heart at a 1000 RPM—

but even then, it is the peace that breaks out
like a rash inside you.

Poetry / Around and about:

Kelli Russell Agodon

leads discussion on the topic "What constitutes a good poem?" in a Field's End Writers' Roundtable event at 7 p.m. April 20 at the Bainbridge Island branch of Kitsap Regional Library, 1270 Madison Ave. N. The event is free and open to writers of all levels and interests. Information: (206) 842-4162, fieldsend.org.

                                                                 ~0~
And this:

Q&A with poet Susan Rich


As I'm sure you all know, it's National Poetry Month, and I was happy to catch up with a very busy Susan Rich to ask her about her newly released book, The Alchemist's Kitchen (White Pine 2010). Also the author of Cures Include Travel and The Cartographer's Tongue ~ Poems of the World, Susan has received awards from PEN USA, The Times Literary Supplement, and Peace Corps Writers. Recent poems have appeared in the Antioch Review, Harvard Review, Poetry International and TriQuarterly

                                                               ~0~

                                                                           

Poetry magazine finds home at EvCC:

Everett can now claim a spot on the literary map. Everett Community College is the new home of Poetry Northwest, a national poetry magazine started 51 years ago by writers who became literary giants.




The magazine has a Web site, http://www.poetrynw.org/, and an independent staff, most based in Seattle.

                                                             ~0~

Adopt a Poet for National Poetry Month:



I bring it up because April is National Poetry Month, which was started by the Academy in 1996 with the hopes of turning April into a month “when publishers, booksellers, literary organizations, libraries, schools and poets around the country band together to celebrate poetry and its vital place in American culture.”

The program has grown over the years and is now celebrated with readings and programs in schools and even an app.

Well, if you’re looking for a way to mark the occasion — I have an idea: adopt a poet.  Not literally, of course.

In an age where Glenn Beck is making some $13 million a year from books, maybe it’s time we did something to help those who are certainly as deserving.

So, what do I mean by adopting a poet?   Find out - Entire story here!







 

San Francisco

[For today's prompt, pick a city, make that the title of your poem, and write a poem. Your poem can praise or belittle the city. Your poem could be about the city or about the people of the city. Your poem could even have seemingly nothing to do with the city. But the simple act of picking a city will set the mood (to a certain degree), so choose wisely.]



It’s like an island connected
to land. It has bay, ocean and mountains.
It feels tropical in some ways—
with palms, still modern and filled
with culture and all things urban.

There is a staggering beauty
from the Pacific coast
to the downtown skyline
with the Transamerica Pyramid
towering high above.

The bridges are spectacular
Golden Gate shrouded often
in a mystique of fog.
The low lying San Mateo
stretches out for an eternity
across the bay
linking east and west.

The weather is most congenial
cool breezes and shirtsleeve warmth
most days.
The city is alive in ways
most cities never imagine—
trolley or the wharfs
people move about
consigned from boredom.

A sunset any direction
is staggering—
you cannot deny
God’s poetic thumbprint.