Day 4, NaPoWriMo 2019

I way overthought Thursday’s 30/30 Poetry Facebook group prompt: 10 things

Lists that Failed to Yield a Poem

board games found at a thrift store
plants blooming in the yard
products no longer available in stores
varieties of tea in the pantry
items from the bottom of a purse
Trivial Pursuit answers (and questions)
expired medications in the bathroom cabinet
unread books on the shelves
what I like about you

Ten is a larger number than it appears, and it is not
so easy to make a poem about ten things
as one would think.

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Day 3, NaPoWriMo 2019

It has been a very busy week. I’ve made certain I had time to write, but posting did not always make the schedule.

30/30 Poetry Facebook prompt for Wednesday: a poem that asks and answers a question.

Recurring sadness

Today was clear and welcome warm
for early spring but tonight

temperatures will drop. My heart clenches
over the star magnolia, white fingers splayed

wide to the treacherous sun. Tomorrow
they will dangle limp and brown. Why

do magnolias always bloom too early?
My grandmother’s voice is soft

in memory: It’s not their fault
we invited them to live here.

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Day 2, NaPoWriMo 2019

This sprang from today’s 30/30 Poetry Facebook group prompt (up in the air) and a phone conversation with a friend.

Priorities on a breezy spring day

My friend’s pre-school grandson leaves
detailed lists of all the things he wants

for his birthday in voice messages
on her phone. Each recording begins

with him saying, “Beep!” because he knows
you leave your message after the beep

and he’s taking no chances. Today he gave
an exhaustive inventory of Pokemon

accessories, complete with color options
ranked by availability and preference, followed

by a coda request for a Charmander kite
that was so important it merited a separate

phone call and message all its own.

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Day 1, NaPoWriMo 2019

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That’s right, folks: we’ve traveled around the sun once more to that orbital point when poetry is celebrated nationwide — nay, across the very globe itself! — thanks to the wonders of the internet.

Today’s poem came out of a mash-up of prompts from the April issue of Diane Lockward’s very excellent Poetry Newsletter (local color) and the 30/30 Poetry Facebook group (streets at dawn).

Unnatural Succession

Autumn Ridge, Indian Summer, Winter Haven
Deer Crossing, Pheasant Run, Doe Meadow
Crimson Creek, Briar Patch, Willow Spring

streets in this subdivision invoke the seasons
as well as long-fled wildlife and landscape
features erased by bulldozers and backhoes

Aristocrat, Bradford Pear, October Glory,
Autumn Blaze, Red Sunset, Honeylocust,
Shademaster, Black Gum, Wild Fire, Red Rage

sanctioned cultivars replace native locust,
ash, chokecherry, serviceberry, hornbeam,
black walnut, yellowwood, sycamore

daffodils, reticulated iris, crocus, hellebores,
snowdrops, and pansies decorate curated beds
where once bloodroot and bluebells ran riot

but all is not lost: squirrels, chipmunks, and rabbits
remain to be stalked by cats, chased by dogs,
and flattened by unflinching automobiles

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Found poetry for Ash Wednesday

Book catalog benediction

In the church of marbles,
every note is played. Every day
is for the thief, the beggar, the disenchanted
princess. Soup is served with sweet
little lies and lavender eye pillows embroidered
by owls who are good at keeping secrets.
Prayers for hard times rise up from 111 places
that you must not miss, sung
by the lady in the collar and the ghost armies
of every war, lest we forget. There is one pan
for the whole family, a promise given
in the lullabies of the world. Something beautiful
happened growing up in other
people’s houses like surprise heirloom carrots:
we found empathy and wonder and the courage
to become the good neighbor.

A little riff on book titles (some of them misread) from the catalogs that pile up on my breakfast table.

Desert thoughts

alis_wellLawrence of Arabia aired on local public television last weekend, and I persuaded the household to watch it with me. Even though I’d only seen the film once before on television in the late 70s, it made a lasting impression, and I was very excited to watch it on a larger and more proportional screen. (I still hope to see it in the theater some day.) Just like the first time, I fell hopelessly in love with the desert and was transported by Peter O’Toole’s performance.

My fellow viewers thought the film could have used some editing, that some of the sequences were too long. Though I see their point, I don’t necessarily agree. Some of their response corresponds to a change in cinematic expectations over the years: audiences today want the film to give them a sense of the place and get on with the action. Lawrence of Arabia doesn’t work that way. The desert is not the setting — it is the most important character in the film.

The first half of the film is a love letter to the desert, but even those long, slow pans can only hint at something so vast, complex, inscrutable, and achingly beautiful. I reminded those watching with me that these scenes were filmed on location and not the results of special effects wizardry. The scale is too staggering to be grasped through briefer shots – the eye takes a moment to notice the tiny human figures and the mind still more moments to process the image as a whole.

The desert is the chief antagonist in the film, against whom all the other characters must contend, and against whom they stand in sharp relief. The desert is immense, and in that immensity often seems indifferent and harsh. It is not, however, the villain. That role falls to any number of characters who fail to act on a human scale, where fellow feeling is a human quality and indifference is a choice. Blaming someone else — the desert, the war, the empire — for one’s lack of human sympathy is the worst kind of villainy. Those who own both their actions and the consequences thereof, however unbearable, are the true heroes.

The tension of the film turns on Lawrence’s inner conflicts, and the battles he wins or loses are those within his soul. By the end, it is clear that he is no knight in shining armor, but it’s equally clear that he is no villain.

For those who get Kentucky public television, the film airs again tonight at 9:00 EST/8:00 CST.

Election day poetry

I’m taking a poetry class this fall, and one of our assignments was to write a praise poem making use of anaphora. One family member recently said he’ll be relieved when the election is over and soul-sucking campaign ads go away. Another family member reminded him that the campaign for next year’s gubernatorial contest has already begun here in the Bluegrass State, and that even national figures are positioning themselves for the 2020 presidential campaign.

It’s always election season somewhere

Praise for the First Amendment and freedom of speech.
Praise for lies and slander, attack ads and smear
campaigns, for fake news and media hype, fearmongering
and fact checkers, for dark money and tracking polls,
backbiting and mudslinging, for chants and slogans, bumper
stickers and yard signs, for phone calls and leaflets, billboards
and rallies. Praise for turning out the base and turning off the electorate.
Praise for public service announcements and voter registration drives, fiery
oratory and nonviolent protest, for town hall meetings and candidate forums,
viral videos and op ed columns, for endorsements and letters
to the editor, electronic voting machines and paper ballots.
For the First Amendment and freedom of speech, we give praise.

Late summer garden beauties

hibiscus in septFor the sake of arachno-squeamish readers, I’ve begun this post with a photo of my Hibiscus moscheutos — reblooming!

But the lovely lady pictured below made my whole summer when she appeared in the side yard last week. She’s an Argiope aurantia, commonly called a black and yellow garden spider, and the first I’ve ever had in my own yard. She’s somewhat small, only about an inch long in body, but I love that she’s out in her web during the day, which means I get to see her as I come and go.

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(As I write this, I’ve been watching a Neoscona sp. outside the living room window. It’s overcast today and she’s repairing holes in her web in anticipation of better hunting this evening.)

Wishing you the joy of whatever is on display in the gardens around you!

Found poetry: Isaiah 40 devotion

Life, work, and everything: when the universe gives you a time-out, it is best to pay attention. Here’s hoping I’ll soon catch up on my posting.

Isaiah tells it straight

The tongue of a teacher speaks truth:
a world mad with nonsense, everything solid melting –

interrupt the weary with hope, teach
the soul force of steadfast love, confront the brute

force of warring factions fearful of radical
hospitality, of justice, of mercy

Pray for the heart of faith, to stand against the wall
beside those who are stricken and insulted,

with a face like flint, without shame, knowing
vindication is near

Inspired by today’s God Pause devotion from Luther Seminary: http://www.luthersem.edu/godpause/default.aspx for Sept. 10, 2018

And for your viewing pleasure, this is from my garden: a great spangled fritillary (Speyeria cybele) on garlic chives (Allium tuberosum). This is a great reason not to spray your lawn with herbicides, by the way, because violets are the larval food of this butterfly. My lawn is full of violets, and my garden is full of butterflies. 🙂

great spangled fritillary on garlic chives

More found poetry from Carrot Ranch

Still catching up (with work, this time) and still finding inspiration at Carrot Ranch.

Pieces

memory is not exact
but combined
with time
rather than being
recent brain activity

it is possible
even if it is not true
remembering creates fiction
a part told truthfully
our life story

identity is not researchable
through our actions, our parents, our name
labelled, repeated, assumed
selective stories keep
who we are over time

(from Irene Waters’ post at Carrot Ranch: https://carrotranch.com/2018/07/13/life-is-a-memoir-what-is-fiction/)

And here’s what’s blooming in the garden this week: Hibiscus moscheutos ‘Lord Baltimore’

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