Poetry Friday

I haven't participated in a while. Today I want to share this by Emily Dickinson:

They say that "Time Assuages"

Here are two lines from this short poem:

An actual suffering strengthens
As Sinews do, with age—

Anastasia Suen is hosting Poetry Friday this week at Picture Book of the Day

Poetry Friday: Ecclesiastes

Eccelesiastes 3: 1 - 8
(New International Version)

These is a time for everything
and a reason for every activity under the heavens

a time to be born, and a time to die
a time to plant and a time to uproot
a time to kill and a time to heal
a time to tear down and a time to build
a time to weep and a time to laugh
a time to mourn and a time to dance
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them
a time to embrace and a time to refrain
a time to search and a time to give up
a time to keep and a time to throw away
a time to tear and a time to mend
a time to be silent and a time to speak
a time to love and a time to hate
a time for war and a time for peace

Poetry Friday today at Kelly Herold's new blog, Crossover

Toss and turn

The worst thing about my body thinking we're on the other side of the globe is waking up at dawn and staying awake for hours. I don't do 2 a .m.; or 3 or 4 for that matter. Yet it'll be a couple of weeks before I adjust.

Mining the experience for my writing seems like a logical choice, except that at the wee hours of the morning, my mind is in deep fog. I don't know when John Updike wrote his poem, Tossing and Turning: while still tossing and turning in his bed, or afterward. But it's a poem I relate to very well right now.

Tanita Davis chose this poem for last week's Poetry Friday. I am a little late to the party, but here is a snippet:

...
Yet we turn each time
with fresh hope, believing sleep
will visit us here...

can only end, around a corner
we do not know
we are turning.

Go read Tossing and Turning by John Updike in its entirety at Tanita's blog.

Poetry Friday

I haven't done too much to celebrate National Poetry Month and now it is May. Spring is such a strange time. Things grow, brown turns green, the world becomes optimistic. Yet every year at spring time, for the last twenty some years, I've felt squeezed by all that tends to take place in Spring: recitals, allergy containment, weeding, planting, summer plans. Who has time for poetry?

But just browsing through the archives of the Writers Almanac has re-centered me again. Who has time for no poetry?

Here's one by Barbara Crooker where she includes the interstate, Hubble scientists, Li Po, and endings of childhood vacations:

Poem on a line by Anne Sexton
"We're all writing God's Poetry"

...
How can we get up
in the morning, knowing what we do? But we do,
put one foot after the other, open the window,
make coffee, watch the steam curl up
and disappear. At night, the scent of phlox curls
in the open window, while the sky turns red violet,
lavender, thistle, a box of spilled crayons.
...

The rest here at the Writer's Almanac.

Anastasia Suen is hosting Poetry Friday this week at Picture Book of the Day.

On a different note: you may have heard about the online auction to help Bridget Zinn, a YA writer, fight her stage four colon cancer. I've offered an original Chinese calligraphy. Head on over, and see if there are autographed books or paintings or manuscript critiques that you'd want to bid on.

Hi from the PIkes Peak Writers Conference

Greetings from Colorado Springs, where the Pikes Peak Writers Conference is in full swing. The sessions so far have been really helpful. Last year, I arrived at the conference and dove into a Read and Critique Xtreme session (stand up to read one page, out loud, to be critiqued on the spot. In other words, the stuff of nightmares.) I am smarter this year and chose a much gentler critique session called 1-2-3: one page, two minutes, three panelists. The important thing was that someone else read my piece so I could retain my anonymity.

So, the quote for the day. Since I am here at the conference, the quote today will relate to community.

"Sometimes our flame goes out, but is blown again into instant flame by an encounter with another human being."
— Albert Schweitzer

And the contest is this: please visit one of the blogs on my blogroll and those of the kind people who follow this blog. This is an awesome community, filled with talented and generous people. Please go leave a comment if something strikes you, and then let me know whose blogs you visited and you will be entered into the drawing.

Speaking of the contest, I forgot to mention that the book Sherrie won yesterday was What the Moon Saw by Laura Resau, whose books are filled with tenderness and lyricism and beautiful relationships. She has quite a few books coming out soon. Find out more at her website.

Still speaking of contest: since nobody entered the contest yesterday, the winner of today's contest will get TWO books.

Good luck!

Poetry Day!

I am heading to the Pikes Peak Writers Conference later this morning, the prize for winning the short story category of the Pikes Peak Writers Contest. I am looking forward to seeing people I met last year as well as those I know from blogosphere.

So then, to the contests! The contest yesterday was won by Corey! She wins a copy of Dodger and Me by Jordan Sonnenblick, an urban teacher and novelist and whose writing, especially in Drums, Girls and Dangerous Pies, made me laugh while crying.

(For those interested in the state of education in this country, I found a video of him speaking from his experiences as a teacher. The subject can become political and heated very quickly and since this is not a political blog, I won't be hosting debates on the subject. Thanks for being understanding.)

And Sherrie, you've won the movie contest! The Margaret line is from a Emma Thompson- Kenneth Branaugh flick from the early nineties, Dead Again. I was hoping someone would include "party on, Garth!" which is, of course, from Wayne's World. :)

Corey and Sherrie, send me email with your addresses. Thanks.

Because of Poetry Friday, the quote today is a poem:

Roads Go Ever On

Roads go ever ever on,
Over rock and under tree,
By caves where never sun has shone,
By streams that never find the sea;
Over snow by winter sown,
And through the merry flowers of June,
Over grass and over stone,
And under mountains in the moon.

Roads go ever ever on,
Under cloud and under star.
Yet feet that wandering have gone
Turn at last to home afar.
Eyes that fire and sword have seen,
And horror in the halls of stone
Look at last on meadows green,
And trees and hills they long have known.

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with weary feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.

The Road goes ever on and on
Out from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone.
Let others follow, if they can!
Let them a journety new begin.
But I at last with weary feet
Will turn towards the lighted inn,
My evening-rest and sleep to meet."
J.R.R. Tolkien

For more poetry, check out the roundup at Under The Covers.

Today's contest: in honor of Poetry Friday and National Poetry Month, please read/write/recite/sing/memorize/listen to a poem, then tell me what you've done by leaving a comment. If you compose a poem and want to share it, that would be fantabulous.

Poetry Friday

Welcome to the first Poetry Friday of National Poetry Month.

I have chosen a poem by Jack Gilbert for all my writing friends who work diligently at their craft everyday, steadily, and sometimes--who am I kidding--more often than not, are in a state of discouragement and disappointment, overwhelmed by the daunting task.

Take heart, fellow toilers! Heed Jack's words, that

courage is not the abnormal
Not the marvelous act

and that

It is the normal excellence, of long accomplishment.

Enjoy his poem, The Abnormal is Not Courage

(Instead of a poetry archive site, I've linked to a blog. This particular post includes two other poems by Gilbert and a couple of interesting first-hand stories by the blogger.)

Poetry Friday Roundup this week is at ayuddha.net

Call me Ish-a-geek

A new public library branch opened last weekend in my town. Now there are three public libraries within very reasonable driving distances from my house. I am so thrilled to live in a town that values books!

Here are some pictures of the new library:

The children's section
[Incidentally, I saw a friend there and she seemed amused that I had brought my camera to the library.]

Look whose book I found displayed prominently in the children's poetry section?

The book of yet another of my Poetry Friday cohorts!

Happy second day in the National Poetry Month. Just from the poem-a-day I have received in my email inbox, I'm learning so much more about different types of poetry (new one for me: language poetry) and poets. You can sign up for it too.

Poetry Friday

For Poetry Friday today, I was going to link to a short poem by Harold Shapiro over at the Writers Almanac. But when I read today's selection, I decided it has to be the one for today. Maybe it's because I've experienced the event described here many times or because my fellow writer, Cheryl, wrote about her experience in this arena recently.

The Meaning of Life
by Nancy Fitzgerald

Here is an excerpt:

You must be quick, decisive,
controlled, and if you miss
...
you must forgive
her quickly and give yourself
to scrubbing up the mess.

Excellent way to meet life head on!

The Miss Rumphius Effect is hosting the Roundup this week.

Reward? Bribes? Motivation?

Not that long ago, I was a staunch idealist when it came to work and rewards. I believed that work worth doing, is worth doing on its own. I practice piano, exercise, treat people kindly because each of these is a worthwhile goal in itself. Putting a carrot at the end somehow cheapens both the task and the person.

Predictably, piano students, including one highly successful psychology professor, would complain that I didn't offer tangible rewards for their practicing. Why couldn't I do like other piano teachers and gave gold stars and stickers?

I've mellowed in the last few years. It's an non-ideal world. It's okay to offer rewards at times, even to ourselves.

And boy, am I glad I've made that profession of slackened belief in the rewards system, because I'm salivating over a new bribe, I mean reward system, for myself.

I've had such a great time learning about children's poetry lately from my participation in the Poetry Friday Roundup, I have complied a list of all the poetry collections written or recommended by my Poetry Friday friends that I want to purchase.

So this is what I'll do: for every big task--say finish revising my first novel, or writing X number of scenes for my WIP--I will buy one of these books. Kinda like people who want to establish a workout schedule promising themselves spa treatments and cute running tops if they do a certain amount of exercise (hmmmm, that doesn't sound like such a bad idea...)

Help out the publishing industry, revive the economy, support my Poetry Friday friends, AND get some writing done: not bad, eh?

Poetry Friday

I read a quote this week that exhorts me to seek delight. (Thanks, Kelly!)

Even the sound of the word makes you think of joy and all things wonderful. And I dare you to say the word without feeling your facial muscles lift into a smile. It's a word whose sound and meaning are perfectly combined.

As I paid more attention to my daily comings and goings, I found I am blessed with many delights. I'm delighted to sit in my son's bed and stroke his back before he sleeps. I'm delighted to watch my daughter execute a powerful yet graceful Tae Kwon Do move. I'm delighted by the words I read.

[5 365 Afternoon Delight by spud. Flickr, Creative Commons.]

Another thing that delights me: children's poetry.

The Poetry Friday Roundup has been instrumental in exposing and teaching me about poetry, not to mention allowing me to "meet" real poets in this new world of blogosphere.

Naomi Shihab Nye is one of the first poets I discovered in the PF Roundup. Her book, Come WIth Me: Poems for A Journey (illustrated by Dan Yaccarino), is a collection of deceptively simple poems that create a longing for the things she describes. I don't know about you, but I want experience the quiet minute between two noisy ones, tucked under the wing of the day. (from her poem Come With Me) I wonder why I never thought about whether I would turn or pause at a street corner (When You Come To A Corner). And I most certainly want to be as tall as a riddle and as full as a shadow (Somebody's Story).


Douglas Florian, on the other hand, is someone whose work I knew before PF. I love the whimsy in his art and his words. We have lizards, frogs, and polliwogs and mammalabilia on our shelf at home.

Pick a page, any page, and you'll find something that tickles and delights: the ex-ibex, the gila monster and the glass frog disappearing into their environment (a tree and a composition book), a lynx who thinks it stynx that people wear fur. I have a special fondness of the bear who slumbears. When my daughter was an infant, I got to name her teddy bears. Their names are Patti Le Bear, Eleanor RigBear, and Beary Manilow.

Julie Larios is a regular on Poetry Friday Roundup. Her Imaginary Menagerie: A Book of Curious Creatures (illustrated by Julie Paschkis) has been honored many times, most recently by being a finalist in the Cybils Awards . Each poem deals with a mythical creature found in folklore of different cultures, from Russia to Egypt to the Mekong River. With very few words, she captures the essential myth of each being, and manages to push us to rethink our understanding of these imaginary creatures. The mighty Sphinx who once asked impossible riddles is now silent, Gargoyle who flies when the bells ring. And what would you do if a sea serpeant, ship swallower, calls you friend and invites you to swim with it?

Go enjoy more poem to your hearts' delight at Anastasia Suen's Picture Book of the Day.

Poetry Friday on Pep Talk Week: Optimism

Tenacity, optimism, persistence, hope, resilience: aren't these the best words for when you feel drained of anything that can propel you on the path that you thought you wanted to take?

Optimism
by Jane Hirshfield

More and more I have come to admire resilience.
Not the simple resistance of a pillow, whose foam returns over and
over to the same shape, but the sinuous tenacity of a tree:

Here is the rest of the poem.

Poetry Friday Roundup is at Mommy's Favorite Children's Books this week.

The Empire State Building, shirts with sailboats, opera houses

Into the sea of pink and red, I'd like to introduce a tall grey building, the Empire State Building, as described by a poet. (Who else can make a building romantic?)

Superbly Situated
by Robert Hershon

...

just as part of me fears that if you love me for my cleanliness

i will grow filthy if you admire my elegant clothes

i’ll start wearing shirts with sailboats on them

but i have decided to become a public beach an opera house a regularly scheduled flight—something that can’t help being in the right place at the right time—come take your seat

...



[frankfurt opera house by tinyfroglet]

[Flight Landing -- Layered
by Tony George]

[Take a seat by Old Sarge
All pictures found on Flikr, Creative Commons]

Not swoon-inducing, but I find it very real and sweet.

Poetry Friday hosted by Big A little a this week.

Poetry Friday

It's weird and affirming all at once when experiences or habits you thought were unique to you and somehow not to be disclosed are described by others. No experience is replicated in total, of course, but this poem by Phillip Booth is strangely familiar. Here are excerpts:

Adding it Up

by Philip Booth

My mind’s eye opens before

the light gets up.
...

I give some

passing thought to the point

that if I hadn’t turned poet

I might well be some other

sort of accountant.
...

I seesaw on the old cliff, trying

to balance things out: job,

wife, children, myself.
...

My mind’s eye opens before

my body is ready for its

first duty

The rest of the poem is here.

Wild Rose Reader is hosting Poetry Friday Roundup this week.

Poetry Friday

A poem for the wordsmiths out there:

The Death of Allegory
by Billy Collins

I am wondering what became of all those tall abstractions

that used to pose, robed and statuesque, in paintings

and parade about on the pages of the Renaissance

displaying their capital letters like license plates.

Read the rest of this visual poem here.

I find this line particularly memorable:
The Valley of Forgiveness is lined with condominiums

The Roundup is hosted at Adventures in Daily Living.

Poetry Friday

Inaugurations do strange things to people. They stir up hope, open hearts, and increase empathy.

Still Here
by Langston Hughes

I been scared and battered.
My hopes the wind done scattered.
Snow has friz me,
Sun has baked me,

Looks like between 'em they done
Tried to make me

Stop laughin', stop lovin', stop livin'--
But I don't care!
I'm still here!

Head on over to Laura Salas for the roundup.

They say it couldn't be done

I was going to have completed my series of posts on the subject of fear before sharing this but since I haven't finished writing it and it's Poetry Friday, I'll start with the poem first.

It Couldn't Be Done
by Edgar Albert Guest

Somebody said that it couldn’t be done

But he with a chuckle replied

That “maybe it couldn’t,” but he would be one

Who wouldn’t say so till he tried.

The rest of the poem can be found here.

I don't know that if I buckle in with a bit of a grin and start to sing as I tackle the thing I will succeed. But sure seems like the right attitude.

Happy Friday and enjoy more poetry over at Karen Edmisten's.

Twenty years of unexpectedness

This week, my husband and I celebrated twenty years of marriage. In our wedding picture. We look bright and hopeful, as newlyweds tend to, and I remember feeling that way as well. We dreamed big, but our life together gave us experiences much bigger than we could imagine. Some of those have been the very ones I'd secretly hoped we'd never have to experience. Yet through them came complexity and richness that gave our life meaning and depth.

As this poem by Arthur Conan Doyle writes in his poem, Retrospect

All that we ever dreamed, dear wife,
Seems drab and common by the truth,

To the unexpected. And to loyal and courageous companions!

Poetry Friday Roundup at Author Amok this week.

Poetry Friday

I wasn't going to make it to the Poetry Friday Roundup today but while chauffeuring my kids around, I heard an interview on NPR with a guy who wrote poems on the 2008 election. Anyone who says he was inspired to write poetry by John Sununu is worth a read, don't you think?

Anyway, here is a taste of Deciding the Next Decider by Calvin Trillin':

On a Clear Day, I See Vladivostok
(The Barbra Streisand standard as sung by Sarah Palin)

On a clear day
I see Vladivostok,
So I know world affairs.

(For the rest of the poem, follow the above link.)

More poetry over at Mommy's Favorite Children's Books.

Poetry Friday

Here is From Blossoms by by Li-Young Lee:

This is how it begins:

From blossoms comes

this brown paper bag of peaches

we bought from the boy

at the bend in the road where we turned toward

signs painted Peaches.