I took today off from work, which means I had a little time (and a little inspiration) for some writing of my own.
Overheard at brunch
I don’t like to wait
for anything
if I don’t have to.
not a boast
but a moment of candor
free of bluff or bravado
a quiet revelation within
the safe circle of breaking
bread and morning coffee
(Reposted from the Lexington Poetry Month website: https://lexpomo.com/poem/overheard-at-brunch/)
Insect damage on a old log
Today is lucky 13, the day I finally get back to writing and posting a little poetry! That pesky work has been getting in the way (not really; I’m working on a couple of very enjoyable editing projects, but they do necessarily take precedence over my own writing). I guess I need to manage my time a little differently so I can do both things I love…
Necromancy of the everyday
the dead are not as gone as we think
nor as quiet – their bones rattle
us when we least expect – early
asparagus in the produce aisle, the vigorous
bowing of a double-bass, pipe smoke
drifting from an open window
no incantation can settle our minds’
restless associations, the constant
monkey quest for pattern – past and present
overlaid until the light that shines
through or the shadows that fall
between trigger recognition
(Reposted from the Lexington Poetry Month website: https://lexpomo.com/poem/necromancy-of-the-everyday/)
Storm-downed burr oak leaves at Woodland Park, Lexington
I saw a charming aphorism on Facebook this morning and was intrigued by the double-meaning possibilities. The copy editor in me insists on due diligence (the saying was both misquoted and misattributed), and a little fact-checking took me down quite the rabbit hole. You can follow the trail yourself here: https://quoteinvestigator.com/2011/01/11/what-lies-within/.
In the marketplace of wisdom
“What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.”
– Henry Stanley Haskins
“What lies follow us and what lies
precede us are nothing
compared to the lies within us.”
Without qualm I misattribute
this misquote to Dr. Phil, who misread
a website dedicated to Henry
David Thoreau, misremembered
the source as Ralph Waldo
Emerson, and misreported
it thus: “What lies behind us
and what lies in front of us pales
in comparison to what lies within us.”
(Reposted from the Lexington Poetry Month website: https://lexpomo.com/poem/in-the-marketplace-of-wisdom/)
While in New York, I visited the American Folk Art Museum and saw a number of portraits from the early days of the republic, including that of a prominent Quaker merchant named Preserved Fish.
Reflections of a certain Fish, Preserved by name
Preserved I am
in a state of grace
from untimely death
on a whaling ship.
Preserved to become
a trader in whale oil
and a trans-Atlantic
shipping magnate.
Preserved to partner
with the aptly named Grinnell,
also known as the bowfin, which stalks
its prey in the shallows at night.
Preserved to be remembered
as obstinate, generous, and eccentric;
Huguenot, Quaker, and Episcopalian;
yet pardoned above all.
(Reposted from the Lexington Poetry Month website: https://lexpomo.com/poem/reflections-of-a-certain-fish-preserved-by-name/)
Portrait of Quaker shipping magnate Preserved Fish at the American Folk Art Museum in New York City
For more information on the distinguished Mr. Fish, visit his Wikipedia page (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Preserved_Fish) or read this biographical sketch from The Merchants’ Magazine and Commercial Review of 1846 (https://www.geni.com/people/Captain-Preserved-Fish/6000000003937839955).
Posted in Poetry
Tagged American Folk Art Museum, Lexington Poetry Month, LexPoMo, Preserved Fish
After a month of life (college graduations, knee injury, cross-country travel) I’m back just in time for Lexington Poetry Month!
Appalachian pranayama
as night falls, the mingled exhalation of trees rises
from wooded slopes; misty breath of forest
collects in the creases between mountains, rolls
downhill to inundate farmsteads and towns,
a snowy river of quiescence faintly aglow
and blue in the deepening twilight
(Reposted from the Lexington Poetry Month website: https://lexpomo.com/poem/appalachian-pranayama/)
detail from a pedestal in Central Park, New York City
A minor family emergency (everyone is okay) and an impending college graduation have diverted my time and attention for more than a week, but today I was able to write. As the talented and wise Luanne Castle gently reminded me, my 30 days of poetry don’t necessarily have to be consecutive. (Thanks, Luanne!)
I will work with the remaining 30/30 Facebook Poetry prompts in coming days, but here is some found poetry from Jenessa Abrams’ review of Reema Zaman’s memoir I Am Yours for the Chicago Review of Books.
Site of Ruin
It’s difficult not to wonder
what seeing your arrival as a collapse
can do to the soul. Steadfast belief
in love pulses, bleeding
into every encounter,
every failure, that blurry line
between being bound to another
and being physically
restrained by them. Rape
is not a turning point, a plot device:
unsettlingly, life continues
unaltered. She is a woman,
a person of color, an immigrant.
There is no legal justice.
Finding her voice, discovering
the weapon that has always been
becomes a promise, a declaration
of inward affection and hard-fought
acceptance. Re-authoring her story
shatters her chains, frees her.
Source: https://chireviewofbooks.com/2019/04/30/review-authoring-a-life-on-reema-zamans-i-am-yours/
viridiflora tulip ‘Spring Green’
The 30/30 Poetry Facebook prompt was “street signs.”
Signs of spring
All along the street, signs pop up
brilliant as flowers, unexpected
as mushrooms: new-leaf green
Roofing by Sta-Dri, Vote for So-and-so
in variegated red-white-blue, apple red
We Support Teachers, Pesticide
Application Keep Off in crime-scene yellow.
another sign of spring: lilacs from the neighborhood
The 30/30 Poetry Facebook prompt was “afterglow of soup.”
Oak Ridge Stew
Everything was grown in the kitchen garden
out front, in the yellow clay that gives those carrots
such a cheery glow. The onions are shaped
a little strange but they taste just fine,
though the turnips seem to have an extra bite.
We dig potatoes at night when it’s easier
to see them, bright against the fresh-turned
soil. Eat up! The flavors are incandescent!
Posted in Poetry
Tagged NaPoMo, NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Month, National Poetry Writing Month, prompted poetry
The 30/30 Poetry Facebook prompt was “write a poem that is more about sound than meaning. let’s call this sound surfing.” I am indebted to Evelyn Christensen for this poem, derived entirely from the answers she posted to her 1-Minute Morning Mind Stretch for April 15.
Apes age for ages as gaps
gape and gas gashes. A hag
has a heap of pages and peas
on a peg that sags with sap.
Sage is she, with a shag
the shape of the sea.
The 30/30 Poetry Facebook prompt was “overboard.”
Recurrent
again and again I board the boat
in my dreams, and again and again
there’s the storm and the swamping
and the shouts and the chaos
like before the book of Genesis
opens, before God sets everything
in order, only in the dreams there
is no God, no order, no time
again and again I struggle through
blankets and billows only to find
myself in bed, sweat-soaked,
the taste of marine fuel in my mouth
Posted in Poetry
Tagged NaPoMo, NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Month, National Poetry Writing Month, prompted poetry
The Daily Compost 