tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78690276470370973382024-03-12T17:02:11.724-07:00Righteous Polka...because Beautiful Soup was taken.RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-55159449655466958032015-10-21T16:10:00.001-07:002015-10-21T16:10:38.329-07:00Redefining Erratic<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="background-color: white; color: #4d493f; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; padding: 20px 0px; width: 600px;"><tbody style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Righteous Polka is back from another righteous hiatus. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHBKYDYBA-UkcNlq95bLzK_SF7NmZ-SoHu2eI6Jl6WE8N1Qh88jyCDivhpRxScRA96k5-HlCwZPYf2BdqE6LQdOUc1AEGXSEukZZZVXn7MzoPTFn2gXy6EQdUbXoXQy6ElNraLCv2Q0vLz/s1600/Samurai.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHBKYDYBA-UkcNlq95bLzK_SF7NmZ-SoHu2eI6Jl6WE8N1Qh88jyCDivhpRxScRA96k5-HlCwZPYf2BdqE6LQdOUc1AEGXSEukZZZVXn7MzoPTFn2gXy6EQdUbXoXQy6ElNraLCv2Q0vLz/s320/Samurai.JPG" width="218" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">While I've been...not posting... I have done a whole lot of researching and writing and talking about poetry. Thanks to a creative writing group at the local public library I am constantly searching for new poets, poems and poetry formats.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Recently our group looked at Japanese poetry. While discussing renga, rengu, and haiku the conversation veered down several different paths including the degree to which poetry, like many things in Japanese culture, is governed by very strict rules, traditions, customs, processes and more rules.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">In my opinion rules, when applied to poetry and teenage curfews, force creativity. Have to be home by midnight? The driveway is technically "home" right? And the street? The street is adjacent to home. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Similarly if a poet is limited to using only nouns from list of traditional seasonal words (<i>saijiki</i> and <i>kigo</i>, respectively) you need to do something weird to keep things interesting. Maybe mix up those <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kigo" target="_blank">kigo</a></i> with modern verbs like <i>texting,overnighting, or swiping</i>. Its a game! The more rigid the rules the more creative you have to get to forge something that reflects your personality, style, and individuality.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">In the spirit of breaking rules and doing something weird...the following poem has absolutely nothing to do with Japanese poetry. Or as John Cleese would say, "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGK8IC-bGnU" target="_blank">And now for something completely different</a>."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I do love this piece. Poetry Foundation.org featured it today and my admiration of, and affection for, this poem encouraged me to return to the blog and share it with you. So, questionable link between haiku and Robert Pinsky aside, please read on and enjoy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<a href="http://thepoetryfoundation.cmail2.com/t/r-l-zjdlke-tuiltlbjl-i/" style="color: #045482; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="Poem of the Day: Samurai Song">Poem of the Day: Samurai Song</a></div>
<h5 style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; margin: 4px 0px 8px; padding: 0px; text-transform: uppercase;">
BY ROBERT PINSKY</h5>
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When I had no roof I made</div>
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Audacity my roof. When I had</div>
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No supper my eyes dined.</div>
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When I had no eyes I listened.</div>
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When I had no ears I thought.</div>
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When I had no thought I waited.</div>
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When I had no father I made</div>
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Care my father. When I had</div>
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No mother I embraced order.</div>
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When I had no friend I made</div>
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Quiet my friend. When I had no</div>
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Enemy I opposed my body.</div>
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When I had no temple I made</div>
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My voice my temple. I have</div>
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No priest, my tongue is my choir.</div>
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When I have no means fortune</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
Is my means. When I have</div>
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Nothing, death will be my fortune.</div>
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Need is my tactic, detachment</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
Is my strategy. When I had</div>
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No lover I courted my sleep.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Read that again and take a minute to notice the very careful line breaks and choice of words because they are lovely. Read the poem aloud and really appreciate the rhythm. Take a step back and think about what he is saying. He's talking to you about himself, and about you. You are strong, like a Samurai; you make your own fortune and choir. </span><br />
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RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-42995288584570792502015-04-29T11:25:00.001-07:002015-04-29T11:34:30.940-07:00Pocket Poetry<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP6plTf1x3haAMa7qA5qR8jqftLx2AwdNybPyN18oiTGaVYdCTGytyM7GqKQm9hq16xAljYknJZAJfwumOEnLLWlHSzL4EBwyPdCbnFFShhBSTIJhrBOsjy_yOhb7BUU2QwOOESL3bxxVe/s1600/pocket+poem.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP6plTf1x3haAMa7qA5qR8jqftLx2AwdNybPyN18oiTGaVYdCTGytyM7GqKQm9hq16xAljYknJZAJfwumOEnLLWlHSzL4EBwyPdCbnFFShhBSTIJhrBOsjy_yOhb7BUU2QwOOESL3bxxVe/s1600/pocket+poem.jpg" height="200" width="196" /></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The day is not highlighted
on iCalendar and Taylor Swift has not, as far as I know, voiced an animated Netflix special in
recognition of the holiday tomorrow. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
In fact, unless your near-and-dears are word nerds, specifically
poetry nerds (represent!), they are probably unaware of the quiet celebration planned for April 30<sup>th</sup>.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
For on that
day, fellow nerdlings, in the pockets of trousers, jackets and shirts,
topcoats, capris, vests and skirts, people around planet Earth – or at least a smattering
of Americans – will carry on their persons the words of their favorite bards.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
To use just a few more words, Thursday is National Poem in Your Pocket
Day.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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A social,
even evangelical, end note to the rollicking rhyme orgy that is National Poetry
Month, Poem in Your Pocket Day<i> </i>(#pocketpoem)
is meant for sharing. <a href="http://www.poets.org/" target="_blank">Learn more here</a>. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I encourage
you to join the celebration this year. Participation is easy-peasy and will, I promise,
fill you will a delicious sense of improving the world one stanza at a time.<br />
<br />
To join the
metered chaos, first select a favorite poem. The fact that you are here, reading
this, tells me you know a little something-something about prose and already have a favorite poem or two - or thirty - tucked away on a mental shelf.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Reach up and pull
down that poem, blow off the accumulated thought dust, memory pollen, and desiccated
spider carcasses (i.e. – the dead pods of your own poems. Seriously, you need
to journal that stuff). On Thursday, scrawl out the
poem on a piece of paper, fold it up and pop it into a pocket. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Do you have
friends? Cyber acquaintances? Colleagues? Relatives who are bound by blood and duty to respond
when you text? Great! Send your poem to them. Spontaneously post, text or recite
that poem in your pocket - if it is one of your favorites it must be awesome.<br />
<br />
Now go forth and recite.<br />
<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Poem in Your Pocket Day</b> – <i>Lucy Walwyn</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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No posies or hearts<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
No <i>Be Mine</i> Sweet Tarts.<o:p></o:p></div>
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No stockings or trees<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
No gift
spending sprees.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
No bunting or flares<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
No rocket’s
red glare.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
But poesies
and verse<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Tucked into
a purse.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
If just for
a day<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Stowed
safely away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
A wee work
of art<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Kept close
to your heart.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-80937477246123449412015-02-20T16:46:00.000-08:002015-02-20T16:50:52.722-08:00The Gatekeeper<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_f0oXj1tPN38pgJxOqrk99AT_gWgyxzDwhTh8FUSuX7KndgUiuElpiTpFyZxQtp-Qo6UgN4eirr7UChSvmMkuLSZSyMO7b5falvje576NgRjAFGu0PLvstOPIqkfpK35LxGbki0VDjLD-/s1600/Levine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_f0oXj1tPN38pgJxOqrk99AT_gWgyxzDwhTh8FUSuX7KndgUiuElpiTpFyZxQtp-Qo6UgN4eirr7UChSvmMkuLSZSyMO7b5falvje576NgRjAFGu0PLvstOPIqkfpK35LxGbki0VDjLD-/s1600/Levine.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The world of words lost another poet this week when Philip Levine passed away on St. Valentine's Day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Levine graduated from college and entered into adulthood like many of us do, as a part-time poet and full-time something else, until he decided to shake off the shackles of normal, responsible, blue (or white or no) collar employment and <i>go for it </i>by returning to school to study for an MFA.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How many of us would love to say, "You know what? My soul is too big for this life. Fuck it. I'm going to become a career writer"? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Full disclosure: He did teach after he got his MFA and, in fact, taught throughout his (second) career but he was a poet first.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He published his first book of poetry at age 35, won a Pulitzer at 67, and last year - at age 85 - was awarded the Wallace Stevens Award for proven mastery in the art of poetry by the Academy of American Poets. Tucked between those achievements his book <i>Ashes: Poems New and Old</i> received the first American Book Award for poetry, and he was the U.S. Poet Laureate in 2011 and 2012.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Levine said, "I believed...that if I could transform my experience into poetry I would give it value and dignity it did not...possess on its own. I thought too that if I could write about it I could come to understand it. I believed that if I could understand my life...I could embrace it with some degree of joy, an element conspicuously missing from my life."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Raise your hand if you can relate. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Goodbye, Philip Levine. You will be missed and remembered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<h1 style="font-size: 24px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; margin: 10px 0px 3px; padding: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Gatekeeper’s Children</span></h1>
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<span class="author" style="background-color: white; color: #4d493f; display: inline-block; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 0.05em; text-transform: uppercase;">BY <a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/philip-levine" style="color: #043d6e; outline: none; text-decoration: none;">PHILIP LEVINE</a></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px;"></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is the house of the very rich.</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You can tell because it’s taken all</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The colors and left only the spaces</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Between colors where the absence</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Of rage and hunger survives. If you could</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Get close you could touch the embers</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Of red, the tiny beaks of yellow,</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That jab back, the sacred blue that mimics</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The color of heaven. Behind the house</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The children digging in the flower beds</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Have been out there since dawn waiting</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To be called in for hot chocolate or tea</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Or the remnants of meals. No one can see</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Them, even though children are meant</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To be seen, and these are good kids</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Who go on working in silence.</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They’re called the gatekeeper’s children,</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Though there is no gate nor—of course—</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Any gatekeeper, but if there were</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">These would be his, the seven of them,</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Heads bowed, knifing the earth. Is that rain,</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Snow, or what smearing their vision?</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Remember, in the beginning they agreed</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To accept a sky that answered nothing,</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They agreed to lower their eyes, to accept</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The gifts the hard ground hoarded.</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Even though they were only children</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They agreed to draw no more breath</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Than fire requires and yet never to burn.</span></div>
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RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-9774571407605581162015-02-18T12:01:00.001-08:002015-02-20T16:48:28.865-08:00Three White Leopards Sat Under a Juniper Tree<div style="font-stretch: normal;">
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ash Wednesday - TS Eliot</span></b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4qN03pAVFXLK5V6epe0shryj34Z841aJAYNgxj17__-rYXkVONOpib2NEZc5d08wa59suYPCMoMMZdmM4pIK2hFsWO-iEMHvGeRIUyN0mQ8D0B9IcCOFt57kcv3RV1uYbyycmPuFgHt5O/s1600/Ashes.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4qN03pAVFXLK5V6epe0shryj34Z841aJAYNgxj17__-rYXkVONOpib2NEZc5d08wa59suYPCMoMMZdmM4pIK2hFsWO-iEMHvGeRIUyN0mQ8D0B9IcCOFt57kcv3RV1uYbyycmPuFgHt5O/s1600/Ashes.png" /></a><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span></b><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because I do not hope to turn again</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because I do not hope</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because I do not hope to turn</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Desiring this man’s gift and that man’s scope</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I no longer strive to strive towards such things</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Why should the agèd eagle stretch its wings?)</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why should I mourn</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The vanished power of the usual reign?</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because I do not hope to know</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The infirm glory of the positive hour</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because I do not think</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because I know I shall not know</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The one veritable transitory power</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because I cannot drink</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> nothing again</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because I know that time is always time</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And place is always and only place</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And what is actual is actual only for one time</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And only for one place</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I rejoice that things are as they are and</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I renounce the blessèd face</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And renounce the voice</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because I cannot hope to turn again</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Upon which to rejoice</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And pray to God to have mercy upon us</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And pray that I may forget</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">These matters that with myself I too much discuss</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Too much explain</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because I do not hope to turn again</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Let these words answer</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For what is done, not to be done again</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">May the judgement not be too heavy upon us</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because these wings are no longer wings to fly</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But merely vans to beat the air</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The air which is now thoroughly small and dry</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Smaller and dryer than the will</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Teach us to care and not to care Teach us to sit still.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">II</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lady, three white leopards sat under a juniper-tree</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the cool of the day, having fed to sateity</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On my legs my heart my liver and that which had been contained</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the hollow round of my skull. And God said</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shall these bones live? shall these</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bones live? And that which had been contained</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the bones (which were already dry) said chirping:</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because of the goodness of this Lady</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And because of her loveliness, and because</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She honours the Virgin in meditation,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We shine with brightness. And I who am here dissembled</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Proffer my deeds to oblivion, and my love</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To the posterity of the desert and the fruit of the gourd.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is this which recovers</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My guts the strings of my eyes and the indigestible portions</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Which the leopards reject. The Lady is withdrawn</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In a white gown, to contemplation, in a white gown.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Let the whiteness of bones atone to forgetfulness.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is no life in them. As I am forgotten</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And would be forgotten, so I would forget</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thus devoted, concentrated in purpose. And God said</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Prophesy to the wind, to the wind only for only</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The wind will listen. And the bones sang chirping</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With the burden of the grasshopper, saying</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lady of silences</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Calm and distressed</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Torn and most whole</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rose of memory</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rose of forgetfulness</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Exhausted and life-giving</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Worried reposeful</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The single Rose</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Is now the Garden</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Where all loves end</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Terminate torment</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Of love unsatisfied</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The greater torment</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Of love satisfied</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">End of the endless</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Journey to no end</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Conclusion of all that</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Is inconclusible</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Speech without word and</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Word of no speech</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Grace to the Mother</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the Garden</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Where all love ends.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Under a juniper-tree the bones sang, scattered and shining</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We are glad to be scattered, we did little good to each other,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Under a tree in the cool of day, with the blessing of sand,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Forgetting themselves and each other, united</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the quiet of the desert. This is the land which ye</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shall divide by lot. And neither division nor unity</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Matters. This is the land. We have our inheritance.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">III</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the first turning of the second stair</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I turned and saw below</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The same shape twisted on the banister</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Under the vapour in the fetid air</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Struggling with the devil of the stairs who wears</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The deceitul face of hope and of despair.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the second turning of the second stair</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I left them twisting, turning below;</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There were no more faces and the stair was dark,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Damp, jaggèd, like an old man’s mouth drivelling, beyond repair,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Or the toothed gullet of an agèd shark.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the first turning of the third stair</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Was a slotted window bellied like the figs’s fruit</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And beyond the hawthorn blossom and a pasture scene</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The broadbacked figure drest in blue and green</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Enchanted the maytime with an antique flute.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Blown hair is sweet, brown hair over the mouth blown,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lilac and brown hair;</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Distraction, music of the flute, stops and steps of the mind</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">over the third stair,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fading, fading; strength beyond hope and despair</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Climbing the third stair.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lord, I am not worthy</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lord, I am not worthy</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> but speak the word only.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">IV</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Who walked between the violet and the violet</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Whe walked between</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The various ranks of varied green</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Going in white and blue, in Mary’s colour,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Talking of trivial things</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In ignorance and knowledge of eternal dolour</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Who moved among the others as they walked,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Who then made strong the fountains and made fresh the springs</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Made cool the dry rock and made firm the sand</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In blue of larkspur, blue of Mary’s colour,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sovegna vos</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here are the years that walk between, bearing</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Away the fiddles and the flutes, restoring</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One who moves in the time between sleep and waking, wearing</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">White light folded, sheathing about her, folded.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The new years walk, restoring</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Through a bright cloud of tears, the years, restoring</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With a new verse the ancient rhyme. Redeem</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The time. Redeem</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The unread vision in the higher dream</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While jewelled unicorns draw by the gilded hearse.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The silent sister veiled in white and blue</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Between the yews, behind the garden god,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Whose flute is breathless, bent her head and signed but spoke</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> no word</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But the fountain sprang up and the bird sang down</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Redeem the time, redeem the dream</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The token of the word unheard, unspoken</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Till the wind shake a thousand whispers from the yew</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And after this our exile</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">V</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If the unheard, unspoken</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Word is unspoken, unheard;</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Word without a word, the Word within</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The world and for the world;</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And the light shone in darkness and</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">About the centre of the silent Word.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> O my people, what have I done unto thee.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Where shall the word be found, where will the word</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Resound? Not here, there is not enough silence</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not on the sea or on the islands, not</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On the mainland, in the desert or the rain land,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For those who walk in darkness</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Both in the day time and in the night time</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The right time and the right place are not here</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No place of grace for those who avoid the face</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No time to rejoice for those who walk among noise and</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> deny the voice</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Will the veiled sister pray for</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Those who walk in darkness, who chose thee and oppose thee,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Those who are torn on the horn between season and season,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> time and time, between</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hour and hour, word and word, power and power, those who wait</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In darkness? Will the veiled sister pray</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For children at the gate</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Who will not go away and cannot pray:</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pray for those who chose and oppose</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> O my people, what have I done unto thee.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Will the veiled sister between the slender</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yew trees pray for those who offend her</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And are terrified and cannot surrender</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And affirm before the world and deny between the rocks</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the last desert before the last blue rocks</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The desert in the garden the garden in the desert</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Of drouth, spitting from the mouth the withered apple-seed.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> O my people.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">VI</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Although I do not hope to turn again</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Although I do not hope</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Although I do not hope to turn</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wavering between the profit and the loss</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In this brief transit where the dreams cross</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The dreamcrossed twilight between birth and dying</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Bless me father) though I do not wish to wish these things</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From the wide window towards the granite shore</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The white sails still fly seaward, seaward flying</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Unbroken wings</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And the lost heart stiffens and rejoices</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the lost lilac and the lost sea voices</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And the weak spirit quickens to rebel</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the bent golden-rod and the lost sea smell</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Quickens to recover</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The cry of quail and the whirling plover</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And the blind eye creates</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The empty forms between the ivory gates</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And smell renews the salt savour of the sandy earth</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is the time of tension between dying and birth</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The place of solitude where three dreams cross</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Between blue rocks</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Let the other yew be shaken and reply.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Blessèd sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> of the garden,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Teach us to care and not to care</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Teach us to sit still</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Even among these rocks,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our peace in His will</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And even among these rocks</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sister, mother</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Suffer me not to be separated</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And let my cry come unto Thee.</span></div>
<pre style="font-size: small; font-stretch: normal;"></pre>
RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-52602866196971460422014-11-18T13:42:00.003-08:002014-11-19T12:19:15.025-08:00Poetry: Not Unlike Sex<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7pz-5b1a4ko0LDth43k4_FE_6SywIhhz5510j6Q4rYDVcmqej3X0-V-vWa8U0gl_OrC6z4CwVcs35-tcoqfhKDSbtNm9yPiCmwXPUbxZghoGdQkB-7JR6ATHYMwfgfe-K_xZ2nNpO9TsL/s1600/Shelley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7pz-5b1a4ko0LDth43k4_FE_6SywIhhz5510j6Q4rYDVcmqej3X0-V-vWa8U0gl_OrC6z4CwVcs35-tcoqfhKDSbtNm9yPiCmwXPUbxZghoGdQkB-7JR6ATHYMwfgfe-K_xZ2nNpO9TsL/s1600/Shelley.jpg" height="320" width="231" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">During an epically long and multitask-worthy conference call this morning I logged into Gmail to work through the backlog of spam and feed alerts.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of the few great remaining things about email is that it gives you an excuse to binge read your feeds - like watching an entire season of House of Cards in a weekend. Seven unread posts from <a href="http://www.theskimm.com/" target="_blank">theSkimm</a>? Yes, please.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My guilty e-binge is poetry - I have subscribed to nearly every poetry blog, email and podcast I've ever come across. That's a lotta poems, delivered directly to me like morphine through a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peripherally_inserted_central_catheter" target="_blank">PICC</a> line, every day. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Many, many people think they just don't <i>get</i> poetry. Which is just silly. Everyone gets songs, everyone remembers nursery rhymes and jump rope rhymes, and jokes. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Which is why you do, actually, get poetry.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"But how do I know if a poem is good?" is nearly everyone's next concern. My advice is to stop worrying about what is generally - and by generally I mean academically - considered to be "good."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Good poetry, like good food and good music and good sex, is relative. Did you enjoy it? Yes? Then it was good.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Back to binging: Binge reading poetry - not unlike experimentation in college or playing Pandora roulette - helps you figure out what you like. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Actually, the experimental sex metaphor is not a bad one. Let's go with it. (That's what he said).</span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Open a poem, whether in a book or randomly selected from a site like <a href="http://poetryfoundation.org/">poetryfoundation.org</a> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Metaphorically find someone with whom you have a bit of chemestry)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Read the opening stanza (Kiss him/her)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Does it repel you? No? </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Read the next stanza (Press against him/her)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Are you bored? No? Read the next stanza (Let your hands wander)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do you feel something? Yeah? Keep going (Keep going...)</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Conversely:</span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Read the first stanza (Kiss)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Does it repel you? Yes? Move on to the next opportunity. Life is too short to be spent with bad poems and poor kissers</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is when you discover what moves you. In either context.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Try it. <a href="http://allpoetry.com/classics/famous_poems" target="_blank">Click through the poems.</a> You may give up on the first one and click away after reading one line, one stanza, two stanzas... Click on the next poem...and the next poem...keep clicking until you find yourself reading all the way through a poem. When you find the poem you want to read to the end I guarantee you will <i>get it. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here is the poem that sent me down this path today. I've never heard of Craig Arnold but I kissed him and I liked it.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="background-color: white; color: #4d493f; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; padding: 20px 0px; width: 600px;"><tbody style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td align="left" colspan="2" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" valign="top" width="600"><div style="margin: 0px; padding: 10px 20px 0px;">
<h2 style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; margin: 0px 0px 8px; padding: 0px;">
<a href="http://thepoetryfoundation.cmail2.com/t/r-l-cjkktld-tuiltlbjl-i/" style="color: #045482; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="Poem of the Day: Bird-Understander">Poem of the Day: Bird-Understander</a></h2>
<h5 style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; margin: 4px 0px 8px; padding: 0px; text-transform: uppercase;">
BY CRAIG ARNOLD</h5>
<div style="color: #505050; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; margin: 15px 0px 0px; padding: 0px;">
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
Of many reasons I love you here is one</div>
<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
the way you write me from the gate at the airport</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
so I can tell you everything will be alright</div>
<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
so you can tell me there is a bird</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
trapped in the terminal all the people</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
ignoring it because they do not know</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
what do with it except to leave it alone</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
until it scares itself to death</div>
<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
it makes you terribly terribly sad</div>
<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
You wish you could take the bird outside</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
and set it free or (failing that)</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
call a bird-understander</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
to come help the bird</div>
<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
All you can do is notice the bird</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
and feel for the bird and write</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
to tell me how language feels</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
impossibly useless</div>
<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
but you are wrong</div>
<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
You are a bird-understander</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
better than I could ever be</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
who make so many noises</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
and call them song</div>
<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
These are your own words</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
your way of noticing</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
and saying plainly</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
of not turning away</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
from hurt</div>
<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
you have offered them</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
to me I am only</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
giving them back</div>
<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
if only I could show you</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
how very useless</div>
<div style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
they are not</div>
</div>
</div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-37475508947751605012014-11-07T14:27:00.002-08:002014-11-07T14:47:45.493-08:00Big Shoulders and Little Cat Feet<div style="border: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXKrjqPL39GLZp2bLoaEH2mz-8Au7MrM9KSVSjLLFZ4chDCp3evu-60DAM0zyUeeeh9vCsB8qVEVAhqElpxZ61vFcp7E2CigiFaOm5zCnSTXTIPN2IHbbRXjttK9hTd1SkeF1lmP9SorBI/s1600/paws.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXKrjqPL39GLZp2bLoaEH2mz-8Au7MrM9KSVSjLLFZ4chDCp3evu-60DAM0zyUeeeh9vCsB8qVEVAhqElpxZ61vFcp7E2CigiFaOm5zCnSTXTIPN2IHbbRXjttK9hTd1SkeF1lmP9SorBI/s1600/paws.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">I</span><span style="line-height: 16px;">n March 1914, </span><em style="line-height: 16px;">Poetry</em><span style="line-height: 16px;"> magazine published the Carl Sandburg poem <i>Chicago</i> and introduced the literary world to the City of Big Shoulders. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit;">It is difficult to believe the poem celebrated (did it celebrate?) its 100th anniversary this year.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit;">The graspability of that number - 100 - is particularly difficult for me because when I was a tiny Chicagoan, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Purple_Cow" target="_blank">memorizing poems</a> and learning about poetry in grammar school, Sandburg was considered a modern poet having died only a decade earlier. Adults still made reference to </span><span style="font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit;"><i>Carl Sandburg</i></span><span style="font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit;"> like he was a sports columnist or <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fahey_Flynn" target="_blank">the guy with the bowtie</a> on the evening news. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 16px;">Although the great metropolis on the Great Lake is no longer the hog butcher for the world it is still stormy, husky and brawling. One hundred years isn't really that much time after all; just long enough for something modern to become a classic.</span></span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; line-height: 16px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A century after Carl Sandburg was impressed by the fog rolling into the harbor, Chicago and its natives continue to influence poetry. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
These works are by two of my favorite modern, poetic Chicagoans:</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse/144/3#!/20599896" target="_blank">Agoraphobia</a> </b>by <a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/susan-hahn" target="_blank">Susan Hahn</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 10px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It isn’t that she doesn’t<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />want to go to the marketplace, if only<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />to buy one small<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />compliment. She can remember each<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />time she went,<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />got one, took it<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />home, put it in<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />porcelain cup she kept<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />beside her bed.<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />She stopped <br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />going out of fear</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 10px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">of wanting too much to fill<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />the fragile container,<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />decorated her house in muted<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />stripes<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />and moved onto her bed<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />a color TV</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">which she watches<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />steadily.<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />She likes the news, especially<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />the accidents what happen<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />when people travel too far <br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />from home.<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />They secure her place.<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />And when she faces<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />a scene filled with good<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />time, she wanders—<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />but only in her mind.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-top: 0in;">
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">In Spite of Everything, the Stars</span></b><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"> </span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><a href="http://www.edwardhirsch.com/poetry/in-spite-of-everything-the-stars/" target="_blank">by Edward Hirsch</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-outline-level: 5;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333;">Like a
stunned piano, like a bucket</span><span style="color: #333333;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-outline-level: 5;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333;">of
fresh milk flung into the air</span><span style="color: #333333;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333;">or a dozen
fists of confetti</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">thrown hard at a bride</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333;">stepping
down from the altar,<br /><o:p></o:p></span></span><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the stars
surprise the sky.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Think of
dazed stones</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">floating
overhead, or an ocean</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">of starfish
hung up to dry. Yes,</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">like a
conductor’s expectant arm</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">about to
lift toward the chorus,</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">or a
juggler’s plates defying gravity,</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">or a hundred
fastballs fired at once</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and freezing
in midair, the stars</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333;">startle the
sky over the city.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">
And that’s why drunks leaning up</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">against
abandoned buildings, women</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">hurrying
home on deserted side streets,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">policemen
turning blind corners, and</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">even
thieves stepping from alleys</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">all
stare up at once. Why else do</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">sleepwalkers
move toward the windows,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">or
old men drag flimsy lawn chairs</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">onto
fire escapes, or hardened criminals</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">press
sad foreheads to steel bars?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">Because
the night is alive with lamps!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">That’s
why in dark houses all over the city</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">dreams
stir in the pillows, a million</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">plumes
of breath rise into the sky.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
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RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-56985831905476284722014-11-05T10:54:00.000-08:002014-11-07T14:37:37.317-08:00A Poet You Should Know - Clementine von Radics<div class="post_title" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 10px; outline: none 0px;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.1903400421143px;">Is Clementine von Radics on your "emerging poets" radar?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.1903400421143px; text-indent: 40px;">You have one of those, right? If you went to a liberal arts college they embedded an EPR chip in your neck at graduation. If you went to a <i>universidad gigante</i> your Sophomore Lit prof should have provided you with a radio frequency and code book.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.1903400421143px; text-indent: 40px;">Either way, if you aren't familiar with her work, we can remedy that situation right here and now.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyxb0liJ50lr_mC8zH5DOWE9xJoMvimgGTdERocDOypzOYAAuLYNOsOG0BWW8KzLp7y5vavlUnpQ_QSi1UK7KsG8VMVbN_6yQk64drVX_ktAVK0AJsmEy6K5ExIy6LXpuDQWzqdgoQ9HVY/s1600/CvR.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyxb0liJ50lr_mC8zH5DOWE9xJoMvimgGTdERocDOypzOYAAuLYNOsOG0BWW8KzLp7y5vavlUnpQ_QSi1UK7KsG8VMVbN_6yQk64drVX_ktAVK0AJsmEy6K5ExIy6LXpuDQWzqdgoQ9HVY/s1600/CvR.JPG" height="320" width="251" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source unknown</td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 19.1903400421143px; text-indent: 40px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">More than just an astounding name, Clementine von Radics is a modern philosopher, a fantastically gifted writer, and the clich</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">é</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">d to a crisp but true voice of her generation. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.1903400421143px; text-indent: 40px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.1903400421143px; text-indent: 40px;">As such she is everywhere poetry is represented in social media, and she's published two books of work for the tactile among us: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Home-Clementine-Von-Radics/dp/1941124011/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1415212888&sr=1-1&keywords=as+often+as+miracles" target="_blank">Home</a> and <a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/127785618/as-often-as-miracles?ref=listing-shop-header-0" target="_blank">As Often as Miracles</a>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.1903400421143px; text-indent: 40px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.1903400421143px; text-indent: 40px;">Her Goodreads profile gives you a good indication of what her work will be like:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.1903400421143px; text-indent: 40px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;"><i>Clementine von Radics likes reading palms and getting friendship tattoos. She drinks a lot of cheap red wine and all the women in her family are beautiful. She is the author of As Often As Miracles and a founder and collective member of Where Are You Press. She lives in Portland, Oregon.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 29.3999996185303px; text-indent: 40px;"><span style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;"><b>From <a href="http://clementinepoetry.com/post/64531975530/ten-love-letters-by-clementine-von-radics" target="_blank">Ten Love Letters</a></b></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 29.3999996185303px; text-indent: 40px;"><span style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;">It’s 11 am and I’m sitting in a restaurant </span><br style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;" /><span style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;">3 beers in. Believe me, even I’m surprised </span><br style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;" /><span style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;">I’m still alive sometimes. </span><br style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;" /><span style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;">I have been drinking about you for 2 days. </span><br style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;" /><span style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;">Lately you remind me of a wild thing </span><br style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;" /><span style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;">chewing through its foot. But you</span><br style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;" /><span style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;">are already free and I don’t know what to do </span><br style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;" /><span style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;">except trace the rough line of your jaw</span><br style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;" /><span style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;">and try not to place blame.</span><br style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;" /><span style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;">Here is the truth: It is hard to be in love </span><br style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;" /><span style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;">with someone who is in love someone else. </span><br style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;" /><span style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-indent: 0px;">I don’t know how to turn that into poetry.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.1903400421143px; text-indent: 40px;">I love this one....</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.1903400421143px; text-indent: 40px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;"><a href="http://clementinepoetry.com/post/38601008159/but-my-heart-is-an-old-house-the-kind-my-mother" target="_blank"><b>But my heart is an old house</b></a></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;">(the kind my mother</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;">grew up in)</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;">hell to heat and cool</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;">and faulty in the wiring</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;">and though it’s nice to look at</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;">I have no business</span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 29.3999996185303px; text-indent: 40px;"><span style="color: #181818; line-height: 18px;">inviting lovers in.</span></span><br />
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RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-42847303361801910472014-11-02T12:44:00.000-08:002014-11-02T13:46:54.979-08:00Samhain's Sisters<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Nxpls_YwnGPxw8loKlVfMhHbSJCgOML-ud4buq9Q4zr9a18iGKeU2jr88D71E5EwS_5ih-4I-yjiE3JRkCl5-P7eldZpm0qKSu3N_NPXjP7ftRMVBpIbJoMQoXeEna9DszSurhIZJzH6/s1600/All+Saints+Candles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Nxpls_YwnGPxw8loKlVfMhHbSJCgOML-ud4buq9Q4zr9a18iGKeU2jr88D71E5EwS_5ih-4I-yjiE3JRkCl5-P7eldZpm0qKSu3N_NPXjP7ftRMVBpIbJoMQoXeEna9DszSurhIZJzH6/s1600/All+Saints+Candles.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Credit:<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;"> <a href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Prolineserver" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; line-height: 24px; text-align: start; white-space: nowrap;" title="User:Prolineserver">Holger Motzkau</a></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every autumn Halloween - that attention whore - gets all the holiday face time. Which, I admit, is justified. Who doesn't love to try on a different side of themselves, binge on nostalgia and party anonymously? Admit it, we all do.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
But this year, do yourself a favor. When the booze-stained sexy witch costume or sexy fireman costume... or sexy nerd costume?... is tossed into the dumpster and the sugar buzz evaporates, stop and take some time to notice a couple of underrepresented holidays: All Saints Day and All Souls Day.</span><br />
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If you want a history or theology lesson about Samhain, Hallowe'en, and the like, <a href="http://www.newgrange.com/samhain.htm" target="_blank">there are better places to get it</a>. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
But if you are interested in a bit of poetry associated with <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allhallowtide" target="_blank">Allhallowtide</a>, keep scrolling.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<b>For all the Saints </b>- Protestant Hymn</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(aka - poetry set to music)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For all the saints, who from their labours rest,</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Who Thee by faith before the world confessed,</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thy Name, O Jesus, be forever blessed</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Alleluia, Alleluia! (*)</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thou wast their Rock, their Fortress and their Might;</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thou, Lord, their Captain in the well fought fight;</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thou, in the darkness drear, their one true Light.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the Apostles’ glorious company,</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Who bearing forth the Cross o’er land and sea,</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shook all the mighty world, we sing to Thee:</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the Evangelists, by whose blest word,</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Like fourfold streams, the garden of the Lord,</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Is fair and fruitful, be Thy Name adored.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;">For Martyrs, who with rapture </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;">kindled eye,</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Saw the bright crown descending from the sky,</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And seeing, grasped it, Thee we glorify.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">O blest communion, fellowship divine!</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yet all are one in Thee, for all are Thine.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">O may Thy soldiers, faithful, true and bold,</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fight as the saints who nobly fought of old,</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And win with them the victor’s crown of gold.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Steals on the ear the distant triumph song,</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And hearts are brave, again, and arms are strong.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The golden evening brightens in the west;</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;">Soon, soon to </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;">faithful warriors comes their rest;</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sweet is the calm of paradise the blessed.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But lo! there breaks a yet more glorious day;</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The saints triumphant rise in bright array;</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The King of glory passes on His way.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From earth’s wide bounds, from ocean’s farthest coast,</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Through gates of pearl streams in the countless host,</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Singing to Father, Son and Holy Ghost:</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Alleluia, Alleluia!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;">Sugar skulls are more than <a href="http://www.skullspiration.com/tag/sugar-skull-tattoo/" target="_blank">body art</a>. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEp_z1vOqGG6siUdV40Z5Ygna2aWUx7h-tFXdqDYSfxlQjQIeNg31QHeu3afDdcSpxq8LDAtp5ZNVdWiShXbZRmnKj8k3ZLQtocXMRaOTUFjitBcsX1B7-ahMs7Ws2HJ5-ms0oCUiQXdmw/s1600/sugarskull.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEp_z1vOqGG6siUdV40Z5Ygna2aWUx7h-tFXdqDYSfxlQjQIeNg31QHeu3afDdcSpxq8LDAtp5ZNVdWiShXbZRmnKj8k3ZLQtocXMRaOTUFjitBcsX1B7-ahMs7Ws2HJ5-ms0oCUiQXdmw/s1600/sugarskull.JPG" height="200" title="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixE7cOfeQh9qIB4r5g17x11vzR_ihCOTwCSV-vmSJhdDFDG-BCmFTah7nkM1NAVCSyO5zkdyO4ziYd2unXe-sZU12a1YXsinFLTiJd6W2eqGJzCd6zAnJZAx2FnOR1pVQajJAFiUOXXBgR/s1600/photo(7).JPG" width="200" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Calavera" target="_blank">Calavras</a> are used to celebrate the Latin American version of All Souls Day: </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Day_of_the_Dead" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.6;" target="_blank">Dia de los Muertos</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 1.6;">.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b style="background-color: white; text-align: justify;">Poem for Day of the Dead</b><span style="background-color: white; text-align: justify;"> - Author Unknown</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do not stand at my grave and weep. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am not there, I do not sleep. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am a thousand winds that blow. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am the diamond glints on the snow. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am the sunlight on the ripened grain. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am the gentle Autumn's rain. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When you awaken in the morning hush, </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am the swift uplifting rush </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">of quiet birds in circled flight. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am the soft stars that shine at night. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do not stand at my grave and cry: </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am not there, I did not die. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.6; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1em;">From </span><b style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.6; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1em;">Day After Day of the Dead</b><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.6; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1em;"> - Nathanial Mackey</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6; text-indent: -1em;">“While we’re alive,” we kept</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">repeating. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">Tongues, throats,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">roofs of our mouths bone dry,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">skeletons we’d someday</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;"> be...</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">Panicky masks we wore for</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">effect more than effect,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">more real than we’d admit...</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">No longer wanting to know</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">what soul was, happy to</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;"> see</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">shadow, know touch...</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">Happy to have sun at our</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">backs, way led by shadow,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">happy to have bodies, block</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;"> light...</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">Afternoon sun lighting leaf,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">glint of glass, no matter what,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">about to be out of body it</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;"> seemed...</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">Soon to be shadowless we thought,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">said we thought, not to be offguard,</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;"> caught out.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">Gray morning we</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">meant</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">to be done with, requiem so</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">sweet we forgot what it lamented,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;"> teeth</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">turning to sugar, we</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.6;">grinned.</span></div>
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RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-71082456178694880432013-10-28T15:13:00.000-07:002013-10-28T15:13:51.938-07:00A Poet You Should Know - Anna Akhmatova<div class="post_title" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 10px; outline: none 0px;">
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<span style="line-height: 19.190340042114258px;">Anna Andreyevna Gorenko,</span><span style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 19.190340042114258px;"> better known by the </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pen_name" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-weight: normal; line-height: 19.190340042114258px; text-decoration: none;" title="Pen name">pen name</a><span style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 19.190340042114258px;"> </span><b style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 19.190340042114258px;">Anna Akhmatova, </b><span style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 19.190340042114258px;">was a </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Russian-language_poets" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-weight: normal; line-height: 19.190340042114258px; text-decoration: none;" title="List of Russian-language poets">Russian</a><span style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 19.190340042114258px;"> </span><a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Modernist" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-weight: normal; line-height: 19.190340042114258px; text-decoration: none;" title="Modernist">modernist</a><span style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 19.190340042114258px;"> poet, and is one of the most acclaimed writers in the </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Russian_literature" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-weight: normal; line-height: 19.190340042114258px; text-decoration: none;" title="Russian literature">Russian canon</a><span style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 19.190340042114258px;">.</span></div>
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Why is she not better known to readers outside Russia? Because she was a woman? Because she died during the cold war and we just didn't pay attention? Even today it is difficult to find information online about Akhmatova. Either her work is not typically studied in the west, or the research and papers are not widely published. </div>
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Akhmatova's work ranges from short lyric poems to intricately structured cycles, such as <a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%22Requiem%22_by_Anna_Akhmatova" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;" title=""Requiem" by Anna Akhmatova"><i>Requiem</i></a> , her tragic masterpiece about the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Purge" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;" title="Great Purge">Stalinist terror</a>. Her style, characterized by its economy and emotional restraint, was strikingly original and distinctive to her contemporaries. </div>
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(Primarily purloined from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anna_Akhmatova" target="_blank">The Source of All Things Knowable</a>)</div>
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They Didn’t Meet Me</div>
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They didn’t meet me, roamed,<br />
On steps with lanterns bright.<br />
I entered quiet home<br />
In murky, pail moonlight.<br />
Under a lamp’s green halo,<br />
With smile of kept in rage,<br />
My friend said, “Cinderella,<br />
Your voice is very strange…”<br />
A cricket plays its fiddle;<br />
A fire-place grew black.<br />
Oh, someone took my little<br />
White shoe as a keep-sake,<br />
And gave me three carnations,<br />
While casting dawn eyes –.<br />
My sins for accusations,<br />
You couldn’t be disguised.<br />
And heart hates to believe in<br />
The time, that’s close too,<br />
When he will ask for women<br />
To try on my white shoe.</div>
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<strong style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;"><em style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;">Anna Akhmatova</em></strong></div>
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RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-10856760614093403942013-08-20T18:52:00.000-07:002014-11-07T14:39:58.272-08:00you're divine! said me<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I love ee cummings</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and I'm not exactly repulsed by tom hiddleston. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">mr. hiddleston's voice? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">sweet as bourbon, thick as wood smoke, deep as a blush.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and tom hiddleston reading this poem? aural sex.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOgPXHQai-jeQh86vElLquJjG4FZvIG8ZjjQY0WmhCQ0zrc6A407tDMJKoQ4ykGAzZUgMsvoYB0XpL8ujdQAdK31ecrSFh0Gz3nhWJHxdJRYRwWJmTCJq57d_iMUm96pPCKmZBo4nfIjen/s1600/tom-hiddleston-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOgPXHQai-jeQh86vElLquJjG4FZvIG8ZjjQY0WmhCQ0zrc6A407tDMJKoQ4ykGAzZUgMsvoYB0XpL8ujdQAdK31ecrSFh0Gz3nhWJHxdJRYRwWJmTCJq57d_iMUm96pPCKmZBo4nfIjen/s320/tom-hiddleston-12.jpg" height="320" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-GWtaHZzKA4" target="_blank">Click to listen</a></td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>may i feel said he</i> - ee cummings</span></b><br />
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<small style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 14px; outline: none 0px;">may i feel said he<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />(i’ll squeal said she<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />just once said he)<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />it’s fun said she</small></div>
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<small style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 14px; outline: none 0px;">(may i touch said he<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />how much said she<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />a lot said he)<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />why not said she</small></div>
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<small style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 14px; outline: none 0px;">(let’s go said he<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />not too far said she<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />what’s too far said he<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />where you are said she)</small></div>
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<small style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 14px; outline: none 0px;">may i stay said he<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />(which way said she<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />like this said he<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />if you kiss said she</small></div>
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<small style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 14px; outline: none 0px;">may i move said he<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />it is love said she)<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />if you’re willing said he<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />(but you’re killing said she</small></div>
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<small style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 14px; outline: none 0px;">but it’s life said he<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />but your wife said she<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />now said he)<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />ow said she</small></div>
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<small style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 14px; outline: none 0px;">(tiptop said he<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />don’t stop said she<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />oh no said he)<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />go slow said she</small></div>
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<small style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 14px; outline: none 0px;">(cccome?said he<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />ummm said she<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />you’re divine!said he<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />(you are Mine said she)</small><br />
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RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-20307043201242395562012-12-10T20:50:00.000-08:002012-12-12T18:35:05.991-08:00Down Through the Chimney Comes Wotan<br />
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<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Cjc5uoz3HroxAvivpFu1ubkfE_PJWsTo5KklFP5OYtbzVFqBOmPCOwmskM6b6eiS4H-fWl99r8eMuegExVOTAjdmRG4d_4xXOUFktNCniQLnreCdeUb7tJRknV0tQEBf3_pbDd0tinNt/s320/odin.jpg" width="238" /></div>
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No poetry today but, instead, a bit of interesting history and mythology.</span><br />
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Recently I've been reading <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Saxon_Stories">The Saxon Stories</a>. A book series by <a href="http://www.bernardcornwell.net/">Bernard Cornwell</a> about the Danish invasion of Britain.</span><br />
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As you might imagine - if you had a lot of time on your hands and few, if any, hobbies - many references are made to Odin, the Norse god of war...and poetry.</span><br />
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The story goes that Odin, father of Marvel comics hero Thor, exchanged an eye for a long pull from the Well of Knowledge - and the <a href="http://www.ambrosiasociety.org/ambrosia__nectar.html">gift of poetry</a>. Which made me wonder if Odin had any daughters besides The Valkyries.</span><br />
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Because, let's face it, if you're going to have father issues, Poppa might as well have control over victory, death and wisdom...which sounds like a great short story...which led me, as it always does, to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Odin"><span style="color: #5421bb;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;">The Great Online Repository of all Things Mostly Accurate</span></span><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;">. </span></span></a></span><br />
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There I found something seasonally-appropriate and crazy interesting: modern day Santa Claus is actually modeled after Odin:</span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santa_Claus" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.196969985961914px; text-decoration: initial;" title="Santa Claus">Santa Claus</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.196969985961914px;"> is said to be largely based on Odin, merged with the Christian legend of </span><a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Nicholas_of_Myra" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.196969985961914px; text-decoration: initial;" title="Saint Nicholas of Myra">Saint Nicholas of Myra</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.196969985961914px;">.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 13.333333015441895px;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.196969985961914px;">Most Christmas traditions in Germanic countries derive from celebrations of the pagan </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Winter_solstice" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.196969985961914px; text-decoration: initial;" title="Winter solstice">winter solstice</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.196969985961914px;"> holiday </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yule" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.196969985961914px; text-decoration: initial;" title="Yule">Yule</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.196969985961914px;"> as a result of the gradual merging of the two holidays.</span><br />
<div style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-top: 0.4em;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.196969985961914px;">Odin was recorded as leading a great Yule hunting party through the sky.</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 13.333333015441895px;"> </span></span><span style="line-height: 19.196969985961914px;">Two books from </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iceland" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; line-height: 19.196969985961914px; text-decoration: initial;" title="Iceland">Iceland</a>... <span style="line-height: 19.196969985961914px;">describe Odin as riding an eight-legged horse named </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sleipnir" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; line-height: 19.196969985961914px; text-decoration: initial;" title="Sleipnir">Sleipnir</a><span style="line-height: 19.196969985961914px;"> that could leap great distances, giving rise to comparisons to </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santa_Claus%27s_reindeer" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; line-height: 19.196969985961914px; text-decoration: initial;" title="Santa Claus's reindeer">Santa Claus's reindeer</a><span style="line-height: 19.196969985961914px;">.</span><span style="line-height: 19.196969985961914px;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Furthermore) children would place their boots, filled with <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carrot" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: initial;" title="Carrot">carrots</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Straw" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: initial;" title="Straw">straw</a>, or <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sugar" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: initial;" title="Sugar">sugar</a>, near the chimney for Odin's flying horse, Sleipnir, to eat. Odin would then reward those children for their kindness by replacing Sleipnir's food with gifts or candy. This practice, she claims, survived in Germany, Belgium, and the Netherlands after the adoption of Christianity and became associated with Saint Nicholas as a result of the process of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christianization#Middle_Ages_.287th-15th_centuries.29" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: initial;" title="Christianization">Christianization</a> and can be still seen in the modern practice of the hanging of stockings at the chimney in some homes.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Who knew?</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Need a bit more timely geek goodness? Here's a tie-in with Gandalf:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.196969985961914px;">I</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.196969985961914px;">n a letter of 1946 </span><a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J.R.R._Tolkien" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; line-height: 19.196969985961914px; text-decoration: initial;" title="J.R.R. Tolkien">J.R.R. Tolkien</a><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.196969985961914px;"> stated that he thought of </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gandalf" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; line-height: 19.196969985961914px; text-decoration: initial;" title="Gandalf">Gandalf</a><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.196969985961914px;"> as an "Odinic wanderer."</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.196969985961914px;"> Other commentators have also compared Gandalf to Odin in his "Wanderer" guise – an old man with one eye, a long white beard, a wide brimmed hat, and a staff.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.196969985961914px;"><br /></span></i>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.196969985961914px;">Just to tie it all up neatly with a bow on top, Tolkien wrote a poem that beings in a familiar way.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.196969985961914px;"><br /></span></i><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;">Ho! Ho! Ho! To the bottle I go</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;">To heal my heart and drown my woe</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;">Rain may fall, and wind may blow</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;">And many miles be still to go</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;">But under a tall tree will I lie</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;">And let the clouds go sailing by.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;">― </span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/656983.J_R_R_Tolkien" style="background-color: white; color: #666600; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: initial;">J.R.R. Tolkien</a>, <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.66666603088379px;"><i>Ho! Ho! Ho! To the Bottle I Go,</i></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.66666603088379px;"> a poem found within the chapter, "A Shortcut to Mushrooms" from The Fellowship of the Ring.</span></span>RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-86456820040643131842012-11-11T09:05:00.000-08:002012-12-12T18:31:42.490-08:00Poppies and Dumplings<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAuScHM_vb9NLi_pNBHj2HsKllHNEwkG2okt5_YBfnB2LdXw60nEq3JVSrjhQPFYxJZxzjQhY-TV9RZF9shQaX62tMfTnQd8lOntiA16BxeG3T3AZ47d0JfWHYgxXBlgIrLbbHw3RBDBqp/s1600/remembrance1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAuScHM_vb9NLi_pNBHj2HsKllHNEwkG2okt5_YBfnB2LdXw60nEq3JVSrjhQPFYxJZxzjQhY-TV9RZF9shQaX62tMfTnQd8lOntiA16BxeG3T3AZ47d0JfWHYgxXBlgIrLbbHw3RBDBqp/s320/remembrance1.jpg" width="320" /></a>And there it is - nine days into <a href="http://www.blogher.com/great-nablopomo-posts-our-first-week">Nablopomo</a> we scuttled our own best efforts to achieve optimal success. (Failed)<br />
<br />
But we're going to push forward here at Righteous Polka. Just because we're no longer in contention for a wreath of laurels - or jpg Badge of Completion - doesn't mean we give up. We have nothing if not a fighting - some might say combative - spirit.<br />
<br />
Which brings us to today, Veterans Day in the U.S. and Remembrance Day in British Commonwealth countries.<br />
<br />
A little background for the history-averse: On the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month an agreement, The Armistice, was signed by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allies_%28World_War_I%29">The Allies</a> and Germany, signaling the end of World War One.<br />
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"At 11 a.m. on 11th November 1918, the guns of the Western Front fell silent after more than four years continuous warfare.<br />
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Originally the day was known as Armistice Day but was renamed Remembrance Day after the Second World War." A war, you'll remember, also lost by Germany.<br />
<br />
The strange thing is that I'm in Germany today, where St.
Martin's Day (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Martin%27s_Day">Martinstag/Martinmas</a>) is celebrated on 11 November, and the focus is on goose and dumplings, not on poppies and wreathes and memorials.<br />
<br />
And that feels<i> surreal.</i><br />
<br />
It isn't strange because I usually walk around with a paper poppy tucked into my coat lapel (Americans appreciate the tradition but don't follow it) or because I'm Outstandingly Patriotic.<br />
<br />
It's the sitting here, with and among the descendants of the Other survivors and casualties of both World Wars. The soldiers whose military lives we watch, dramatized and reenacted on The History Channel.<br />
<br />
Those Guys. The Bad Guys. Who, in reality, were not bad. The vast, <i>vast</i> majority of them were scared kids, following orders, just like our guys, The Good Guys.<br />
<br />
Here I sit and watch children, grandchildren, great-great grandchildren go about their Sunday business presumably oblivious to the non-goose-related meaning of today and I wonder: When do they venerate their war dead? I have no idea. Just as they, probably, have no idea.<br />
<br />
Yeah, completely surreal.<br />
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<div class="tab-content active" id="poem-top">
<b>The City's Oldest Known Survivor of the Great War</b></div>
<span class="author">By <a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/james-doyle"> James Doyle</a></span><br />
<span class="author"> </span>
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marches in uniform down the traffic stripe </div>
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at the center of the street, counts time </div>
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to the unseen web that has rearranged </div>
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the air around him, his left hand </div>
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stiff as a leather strap along his side, </div>
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the other saluting right through the decades </div>
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as if they weren't there, as if everyone under ninety </div>
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were pervasive fog the morning would dispel </div>
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in its own good time, as if the high school band </div>
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all flapping thighs and cuffs behind him </div>
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were as ghostly as the tumbleweed on every road </div>
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dead-ended in the present, all the ancient infantry </div>
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shoulder right, through a skein of bone, presenting arms </div>
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across the drift, nothing but empty graves now </div>
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to round off another century, </div>
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the sweet honey of the old cadence, the streets </div>
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going by at attention, the banners glistening with dew, </div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
the wives and children blowing kisses.</div>
</div>
<br />RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-40591288437879604262012-11-08T20:33:00.002-08:002012-12-12T18:35:56.959-08:00Alabama Poet Laureate<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This week <span style="background-color: white; color: #363636; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">Governor Robert Bentley commissioned Andrew Glaze, former Pulitzer Prize contender, <a href="http://blog.al.com/montgomery/2012/11/92-year-old_writer_named_alaba.html">as the state's </a>Poet Laureate. Glaze will serve a 4-year term beginning in 2013.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #363636; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"><span style="color: #363636;">About him, Robert Frost wrote, “I have high hopes for Mr. Glaze.” </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #363636; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #363636;"><span style="line-height: 24px;">You see? Not all Alabama poetry is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Muscle_Shoals_Sound_Studio">set to music.</a>..unfortunately Mr. Glaze is actually (shhhh!) a native Nashvillian, but graduated from Ramsay High School in Birmingham.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #363636;"><span style="line-height: 24px;">I wanted to post one of his poems, but cannot location one online.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #363636;"><span style="line-height: 24px;">And I can't hold my eyes open. So this is it. The lamest post of Nablopomo. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #363636;"><span style="line-height: 24px;">You knew it had to happen eventually.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #363636; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span>RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-70734490116782449782012-11-07T19:52:00.000-08:002012-11-07T19:57:01.631-08:00With Me<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLu5JxupullO2sJ8eUvCJOzUoMQQvXaj4Qt7u-9yQyehhbANkxygLShl5RuXPki0E9acDKS6n_ISv7r6towbpHnzjOSMN8X4fPb0HMRd4dsWGgV_7AD-fgmaMnh-WnLhN7SD3OaFS-DOq1/s1600/Black___White_wedding_bouquet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLu5JxupullO2sJ8eUvCJOzUoMQQvXaj4Qt7u-9yQyehhbANkxygLShl5RuXPki0E9acDKS6n_ISv7r6towbpHnzjOSMN8X4fPb0HMRd4dsWGgV_7AD-fgmaMnh-WnLhN7SD3OaFS-DOq1/s200/Black___White_wedding_bouquet.jpg" width="139" /></a></div>
It seems that every hobby, passion and special interest is shared and supported by a community.<br />
<br />
Either online or in person, fighting beetle breeders, carved egg shell collectors and noodlers congregate and compare notes. They share tips and tricks, war stories and rare finds.<br />
<br />
People who play with words are no different. Loathe as I generally am to get involved with organized <i>anything</i>, I find that I love spending time with other word people. Word people who are better with words than I am. Wordsmiths. <br />
<br />
One of the loveliest, kindest, most generous and clever wordsmiths I know is Brooke. She recently married a truly good guy and wrote this poem for their wedding ceremony - and she has deigned to share it with us.<br />
<br />
Brooke is a colleague and a friend, and this is her submission to Righteous Poetry Month.<br />
<br />
<b>WITH ME</b><br />
by Brooke Bullman<br />
<br />
Come walk with me<br />
by the low unbroken fields<br />
up the trail to wild wood<br />
through the sand on gray rain beaches.<br />
<br />
Be with me<br />
in the light of every morning<br />
in stony rivers cold and pure<br />
in mountain balds of laurel, azalea, and sun.<br />
<br />
Talk with me<br />
while dinners are made<br />
gold buttons are stitched<br />
and children are held and soothed.<br />
<br />
Stay with me<br />
beneath dark new moons<br />
down dim and lonesome roads<br />
and through adventures lost.<br />
<br />
Go with me<br />
to the places on our lists<br />
off the pale and sleeping maps<br />
to thresholds of unimagined dreams.<br />
Together we’ll go.<br />
Places new, old, dark, bright, misty, unknown,<br />
Go with me there—<br />
together we are home.<br />
<br />RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-17217281826977028202012-11-06T19:12:00.000-08:002012-11-06T19:12:16.163-08:00Election Day Prose<div class="tab-content active" id="poem-top">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO-v7HR4O7TBA3w23yQesGOwzekP7XkiZ3yuRKhRXbfhgJsBtxQ8Rem-gc1B2LBmsfNMtpMwqqIakcE5aTmqyTIFIYe3l3qfuX8gWU3yYVqSqFH0BaakSnDPfVRH25LtkHTwmcbkYeiF3e/s1600/Sufferage.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO-v7HR4O7TBA3w23yQesGOwzekP7XkiZ3yuRKhRXbfhgJsBtxQ8Rem-gc1B2LBmsfNMtpMwqqIakcE5aTmqyTIFIYe3l3qfuX8gWU3yYVqSqFH0BaakSnDPfVRH25LtkHTwmcbkYeiF3e/s320/Sufferage.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Everyone is busy watching exit polling this evening - present company included - so let's take a quick look at a poetry format that doesn't require much explanation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Free Verse is the great equalizer of poetry. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It demands no meter, no rhyme and no specific pattern. E</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">ven if you have a tin ear and can't dance you can write a free verse poem.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Free verse is not my favorite format, but as a <a href="http://righteouspolka.blogspot.com/2012/08/pragmatic-poetry.html">fan of the pragmatic</a> I appreciate the straightforward way it tells a story...especially</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> on Election Day when everyone is looking for little less B.S.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">My Mother Goes to Vote</span></b></div>
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</div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span class="author">By <a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/judith-harris"> Judith Harris</a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-indent: -1em;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-indent: -1em;">We walked five blocks</span><br />
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">to the elementary school, </span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">my mother’s high heels </span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">crunching through playground gravel. </span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We entered through a side door.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-indent: -1em;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-indent: -1em;">Down the long corridor,</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">decorated with Halloween masks, </span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">health department safety posters— </span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">we followed the arrows </span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">to the third grade classroom.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-indent: -1em;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-indent: -1em;">My mother stepped alone</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">into the booth, pulling the curtain behind her. </span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I could see only the backs of her </span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">calves in crinkled nylons.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-indent: -1em;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-indent: -1em;">A partial vanishing, then reappearing</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">pocketbook crooked on her elbow, </span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">our mayor’s button pinned to her lapel. </span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Even then I could see—to choose</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">is to follow what has already </span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">been decided.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-indent: -1em;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-indent: -1em;">We marched back out</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">finding a new way back down streets </span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">named for flowers </span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">and accomplished men. </span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I said their names out loud, as we found</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-indent: -1em;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-indent: -1em;">our way home, to the cramped house,</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">the devoted porch light left on, </span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">the customary meatloaf.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-indent: -1em;">I remember, in the classroom converted</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">into a voting place— </span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">there were two mothers, conversing, </span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">squeezed into the children’s desk chairs.</span></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
</div>
RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-88220869866716523632012-11-05T20:18:00.000-08:002012-11-05T20:20:10.182-08:00Poetry Rock Stars You Should Know - Part I<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3oGPUCJPx27QqHIe96BLH6uinH5XZAVIvYUMKzR0qoJfy8v-gpzWnQHqYMhpUhxzJbg8a2VEbNTY4vOL771pvFMHdMa4dh3-rnbuRXg4W6OO-4meUqeNKGQalR0cj-qaXhVlOi5Ksa_dP/s1600/Dickey-Deliverance.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3oGPUCJPx27QqHIe96BLH6uinH5XZAVIvYUMKzR0qoJfy8v-gpzWnQHqYMhpUhxzJbg8a2VEbNTY4vOL771pvFMHdMa4dh3-rnbuRXg4W6OO-4meUqeNKGQalR0cj-qaXhVlOi5Ksa_dP/s1600/Dickey-Deliverance.jpeg" /></a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;"><i><b>“What you have to realize when you write poetry, or if you love poetry, is that poetry is just naturally the greatest god damn thing that ever was in the whole universe” - James Dickey</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;">Southern poet James Lafayette Dickey (Lafayette gave him away as a Southerner, didn't it?) was the eighteenth United States Poet </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;">Laureate - then known as Poetry Consultant to the Library of Congress.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;">He was the kind of poet college football fans could really get behind. According to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Dickey">The Great Online Repository of all Things Mostly Accurate</a>:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;">In 1942 he enrolled at <b>Clemson </b>Agricultural College of South Carolina and played on the football team as a tailback. After one semester, he left school to enlist in the Army Air Corps...Between the wars he attended <b>Vanderbilt </b>University, graduating with degrees in English and philosophy, as well as minoring in astronomy. He also taught at the <b>University of Florida</b>.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;"><br /></span>
Dickey was invited to read his poem "The Strength of Fields" at President Jimmy Carter's inauguration in 1977.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />
"The Strength of Fields" is not what anyone would consider an entry-level poem, so I leave you with an except from his work "The Hospital Window" to which many of us - unfortunately - can relate.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">THE HOSPITAL WINDOW</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">by James L. Dickey</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />
I have just come down from my father.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Higher and higher he lies</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Above me in a blue light</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Shed by a tinted window.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I drop through six white floors</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then step out onto pavement.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />
Still feeling my father ascend,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I start to cross the firm street,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My shoulder blades shining with all</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The glass the huge building can raise.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now I must turn round and face it,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And know his one pane from the others.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />
Each window possesses the sun</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As though it burned there on a wick.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I wave, like a man catching fire.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">All the deep-dyed windowpanes flash,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And, behind them, all the white rooms</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">They turn to the color of Heaven.</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-1" style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 1em;"></sup>RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-90014803107385524612012-11-04T18:22:00.000-08:002012-11-05T07:18:58.493-08:00Dragon Poems<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilEpTD6U4b96fDGxDmwKpUWX6sYMwpq7Lu2sUmqiFxKSW65XHQK-jBNkHbVOFD-0Fqy5h0Ma832qc3rzQPvRt9hi-Jcyz-ljqsQA7W7nt62WDv8h-xcqUg0CqKBr2dt5u9JJsar20J_DkU/s1600/Dragon.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilEpTD6U4b96fDGxDmwKpUWX6sYMwpq7Lu2sUmqiFxKSW65XHQK-jBNkHbVOFD-0Fqy5h0Ma832qc3rzQPvRt9hi-Jcyz-ljqsQA7W7nt62WDv8h-xcqUg0CqKBr2dt5u9JJsar20J_DkU/s320/Dragon.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
A confluence of random things conspired to bring me to today's poem about a dragon:<br />
<br />
1. Season 5 of <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00mjlxv/heroes/great-dragon">Merlin on BBC</a>.<br />
2. A t-tiny soft spot in my cold, black heart for <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Light_poetry">light verse.</a><br />
3. ....and Ogend Nash<br />
4. I finally watched "<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0892769/">How to Train Your Dragon</a>."<br />
<br />
Today's poem is brought to you by the letter D.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">THE TALE OF CUSTARD THE DRAGON</span><br />
By Ogden Nash<br />
<br />
Belinda lived in a little white house,<br />
With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,<br />
And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,<br />
And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.<br />
<br />
Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,<br />
And the little gray mouse, she called her Blink,<br />
And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard,<br />
But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.<br />
<br />
Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth,<br />
And spikes on top of him and scales underneath,<br />
Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose,<br />
And realio, trulio, daggers on his toes.<br />
<br />
Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,<br />
And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,<br />
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,<br />
But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.<br />
<br />
Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful,<br />
Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival,<br />
They all sat laughing in the little red wagon<br />
At the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.<br />
<br />
Belinda giggled till she shook the house,<br />
And Blink said Week!, which is giggling for a mouse,<br />
Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age,<br />
When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.<br />
<br />
Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound,<br />
And Mustard growled, and they all looked around.<br />
Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda,<br />
For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda.<br />
<br />
Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right,<br />
And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright,<br />
His beard was black, one leg was wood;<br />
It was clear that the pirate meant no good.<br />
<br />
<div>
Belinda paled, and she cried, Help! Help!<br />
But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp,<br />
Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household,<br />
And little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed.<br />
<br />
But up jumped Custard, snorting like an engine,<br />
Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon,<br />
With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm<br />
He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm.<br />
<br />
The pirate gaped at Belinda's dragon,<br />
And gulped some grog from his pocket flagon,<br />
He fired two bullets but they didn't hit,<br />
And Custard gobbled him, every bit.<br />
<br />
Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him,<br />
No one mourned for his pirate victim<br />
Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate<br />
Around the dragon that ate the pyrate.<br />
<br />
Belinda still lives in her little white house,<br />
With her little black kitten and her little gray mouse,<br />
And her little yellow dog and her little red wagon,<br />
And her realio, trulio, little pet dragon.<br />
<br />
Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears,<br />
And Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs,<br />
Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage,<br />
But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage. </div>
<br />RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-42485224975101757672012-11-03T21:21:00.000-07:002012-11-05T07:22:37.755-08:00Monday's Child<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKff9WB9L5P52Ibc0CAXTokAqV6M9XcyPgUPJ2TvoovQ_y90j2KNNoUEyFrHEFjMciUMfOvU-U4A_S6cpMpdiaI_NMrwzdhJfnlL7BDpKF_AyVgVTO4s30YpE1RBxDCxGf8Y_g8XXaz6Uw/s1600/Monday.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKff9WB9L5P52Ibc0CAXTokAqV6M9XcyPgUPJ2TvoovQ_y90j2KNNoUEyFrHEFjMciUMfOvU-U4A_S6cpMpdiaI_NMrwzdhJfnlL7BDpKF_AyVgVTO4s30YpE1RBxDCxGf8Y_g8XXaz6Uw/s320/Monday.jpeg" width="238" /></a>I was seriously surprised to learn that very few of my coworkers have heard this rhyme; since that conversation I've been asking random acquaintances if they know it. While I've found a few people who are vaguely familiar with it, I haven't found anyone yet who knows <i>Monday's Child</i> - any of the versions - by heart.<br />
<br />
This is curious to me. <i>Hmmm - a puzzle!</i><br />
<br />
I don't think it's generational because just as many Gen X-ers as Gen Y and Millennials are unfamiliar with it. And I don't think its a Northern Thing because half the people I've polled are from north, or west, of Louisville.<br />
<br />
Maybe it's only known these days in the Great Lakes region or around Chicago? Maybe only my people remember it. My grandfather's family is from northern England (Derbyshire) and Monday'<i>s Child</i> originated in Devonshire...which is in the opposite end of the country, so that's a pretty leaky theory.<br />
<br />
Most likely only rhyme-nerds with a fondness for English history can recite it on cue....<br />
<br />
<i>Monday's Child </i>is actually considered a nursery rhyme, not a poem, but what's the difference? The meter repeats and it <i>rhymes</i>, so it's a poem says I.<br />
<br />
To prevent this from becoming a nutrition-free junk food kind of post, here's a bit of history courtesy of Wikipedia:<br />
<br />
"This rhyme was first recorded in A. E. Bray's Traditions of Devonshire in 1838, although the tradition of fortune telling by days of birth is much older. Stories told to young people in Suffolk in the 1570s included telling what luck one should have by the day of the week on which s/he was born."<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Monday's Child (aka Saturday's Child)</b><br />
<br />
Monday's child is fair of face<br />
Tuesday's child is full of grace,<br />
Wednesday's child is full of woe,<br />
Thursday's child has far to go,<br />
Friday's child is loving and giving,<br />
Saturday's child works hard for a living,<br />
But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day<br />
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.<br />
<br />RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-14221749750775668902012-11-02T20:16:00.000-07:002012-11-02T20:16:53.169-07:00And Miles to Go<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/valentinaceccatelli/8132104040/in/pool-blackandwhite" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU5wnjhzAFpsdP82AsLEFytCg6cPNQWuaO4FsBEfycVHYuzCfCrGm_CZA9HWhw-kDDUlJXK3FKeS7WY4FLSGtZnIkvF5CS7Hw_U6piecGGNwyNVb35coNtlZzVXGdTaRaTKHYba1KPq_0N/s320/compagniapunzo.jpg" width="231" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: Valentina Ceccatelli<strong class="username" id="yui_3_5_1_3_1351907032747_1091" style="background-color: #fefefe; color: #222222; display: inline !important; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: 13px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"></strong></td></tr>
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I used to hate poetry.<br />
<br />
More accurately, I was too lazy for poetry. I didn't deserve poetry.<br />
<br />
"It's not you, Haiku, it's me."<br />
<br />
Do you remember that time in your life when you were just too self-centered to really be useful to anyone? Maybe it started when you became a teenager and lasted until you graduated from school at...whatever age.<br />
<br />
For me that period lasted, basically, from age 12 until 35. It was during this chunk of time that I just couldn't <i>be there</i> for poetry, you know?<br />
<br />
So despite exhibiting signs of <a href="http://righteouspolka.blogspot.com/2012/08/because-im-bad-im-bad-you-know-it.html">sheer poetic genius</a> at an early age, and borrowing a book of Shakespeare's sonnets from the library SO many times over the summer break between fifth and six grades that the librarian finally told me, "Just hold onto it until you're through" I didn't take much notice of poetry after age 11.<br />
<br />
Except, of course, in high school where you really can't avoid things like essays and novellas and poetry. I remember an in-class exercise, with all the accompanying moaning and groaning, wherein we deconstructed "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening."<br />
<br />
We'd dragged our desks into a circle and gone around the room talking about the <i>contrasts </i>in the poem and the <i>real meaning</i> behind the words.<br />
<br />
All the while I was thinking, "Jesus and all the Saints, who cares about the contradictions? Why can't we just read the poem? It's about snow! And a horse! Leave it alone!"<br />
<br />
As it turns out, my adolescent reaction was not unique. At least, that's what Billy Collins says.<br />
<br />
The explanation of how I finally - and very recently - came around to poetry is a story for another day.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, read this funny little poem.<br />
Enjoy it and try not to read too much into it - sometimes rope is just rope. <br />
<br />
<div class="tab-content active" id="poem-top">
<h2>
<span style="font-size: small;">Introduction to Poetry, by Billy Collins</span></h2>
</div>
<span class="author"></span>I ask them to take a poem
<br />
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
and hold it up to the light </div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
like a color slide </div>
<br />
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
or press an ear against its hive. </div>
<br />
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
I say drop a mouse into a poem </div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
and watch him probe his way out, </div>
<br />
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
or walk inside the poem’s room </div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
and feel the walls for a light switch. </div>
<br />
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
I want them to waterski </div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
across the surface of a poem </div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
waving at the author’s name on the shore. </div>
<br />
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
But all they want to do </div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
is tie the poem to a chair with rope </div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
and torture a confession out of it. </div>
<br />
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
They begin beating it with a hose </div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
to find out what it really means. <br />
<br /></div>
RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-79700740598222979212012-11-01T10:55:00.000-07:002012-11-01T10:57:20.611-07:00National Poetry Month...isn't until next April.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAKodrepMResuUDOTiso-oBJRTqaQUIiUvzjN_qxd3LYDF9F1lWjytuPV_ooVXnsMAAcA3AS2t1UTg7S9Rs8wtdfrx6EqVZUYYCrfmGa9NARcbyidZMO8O6DN8QKLUaufMoVkQUyBoUWHj/s1600/npm2012_poster_540.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAKodrepMResuUDOTiso-oBJRTqaQUIiUvzjN_qxd3LYDF9F1lWjytuPV_ooVXnsMAAcA3AS2t1UTg7S9Rs8wtdfrx6EqVZUYYCrfmGa9NARcbyidZMO8O6DN8QKLUaufMoVkQUyBoUWHj/s320/npm2012_poster_540.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
In the meantime we here at Righteous Polka are celebrating our OWN Poetry Month and syncing it with with National Blog Posting Month to create:<br />
<br />
<b>Thirty Righteous Poems in Thirty Righteous Days</b><br />
<br />
Just imagine it! Thirty days of epic-ish poetry delivered directly to your Facebook page or RSS feed! For free! And look! Six exclamatory statements in one paragraph! It's madness!<br />
<br />
Let's get the party started with a <a href="http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/5672">slam </a>poem:<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Definitions</b> - by <a href="http://rudyfrancisco.bandcamp.com/">Rudy Francisco</a><br />
<br />
Envy is when someone walks around with a pocket full of “that should’ve been me”<br />
Hate<b> </b> is what happens when you put a shotgun to the face of understanding and it cowers in the corner<br />
Truth<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><b> </b></span><b> </b>is everything you tell yourself when you realize that no one is looking<br />
Courage<b> </b>is ripping your heart from your chest and saying “here…hold on to this for me”<br />
Trust<b> </b> is when you jump into someone’s arms knowing they would never let you hit the ground<br />
Love<b> </b> is a tablespoon of hemlock I’ve been dying to try<br />
Faith<b> </b>is doing what you love for a living and watching the bills pay themselves<br />
<b>Failure is when you talk yourself out of becoming something amazing</b><br />
RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-72208254616942188322012-10-30T19:42:00.000-07:002012-10-30T19:44:03.876-07:00Dorsimbra<br />
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I love word puzzles. You can keep your Sudoku and your "If two trains leave the station traveling at 50 mph when do they collide in a mass of twisted steel?"<br />
<br />
Give me a crossword puzzle or an episode of <i><a href="http://www.npr.org/series/4473090/sunday-puzzle">Sunday Puzzler</a></i> and I'm as happy as a lark.<br />
<br />
Introduce me to an imperious poem format, playing hard-to-get, and I'm a goner.<br />
<br />
Add a juicy prompt to that cock-sure poetic form and I lose the ability to focus on anything other than <i>Solving the Word Mystery. </i>It's like trying to keep <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Velma_Dinkley">Velma Dinkley</a> away from a Haunted House. It can't be done.<br />
<br />
So imagine my nerdy rapture when I found the perfect haughty form and an irresistible prompt in the same week.<br />
<br />
The poem format is <a href="http://www.poetrybase.info/forms/000/84.shtml">the Dorsimbra</a> and was created by three lovely, I'm sure, masochists - Eve Braden, Frieda Dorris and Robert Simonton - either on a bet or after a long night of sitting too near a simmering batch of meth. It is a 12-line prose poem incorporating blank verse, free verse, envelope verse and Sicilian Quatrain.<br />
<br />
First 4-line stanza: I<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iambic_pentameter">ambic Pentameter</a>, rhyming ABAB<br />
Second 4-line stanza: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Free_verse">Free Verse</a><br />
Third 4-line stanza: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blank_verse">Blank Verse</a><br />
<br />
Oh, and the 12th line should repeat the first line, and it should all make perfect, seamless sense.<br />
<br />
The prompt came from the tremendously talented organizers of a local spoken word group, <a href="http://boxcarvoices.com/">Boxcar Voices</a>. The theme of their October performance was "Murder. Macabre."<br />
<br />
Who, I ask you, can resist a word like <i>Macabre</i>?<br />
<br />
The following poem is the result of Dorsimbra + Macabre. Please be gentle as she is a work in progress. The last stanza needs to be reengineered so as to repeat the first line, but I was working on a deadline and nailing the iambic pentameter was all I could manage.<br />
<br />
<b>Danse Macabre</b><br />
<br />
The Angel of Death so light on his feet<br />
begs of you one dance on this your last night.<br />
You draw a last breath and rise from your seat<br />
enthralled, entranced, moving toward his dark light.<br />
<br />
Beneath a chandelier of skulls he takes your hand<br />
shakes back a velvet sleeve and pulls you near.<br />
As he spins your fragile form in a waltz across the floor<br />
other specters, in respect, step aside.<br />
<br />
When, at last, thoracic music ceases<br />
your pensive partner bows to brush pale lips<br />
and takes away so gently carnal life<br />
leaving your soul to cross the river Styx.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Copyright RighteousPolka 2012 </span><br />
<br />
<i>A note to Amy and Fabs (aka the only people who read this blog, and I'm fine with that): November is NaBloPoMo and I will endeavor to post an interesting (not original) poem every day for 30 days. Meh, I may throw in something hand-crafted. Maybe a random haiku? We'll see - stay tuned.</i>RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-91435154942124221772012-09-30T14:25:00.001-07:002012-10-30T19:49:20.958-07:00Longing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I am surprisingly - shockingly - homesick today and attribute it to the cool, grey gloom.<br />
<br />
Nothing chants "Chicago Chicago Chicago" as steadily or persistently as bad weather.<br />
<br />
The upside of a fit of meteorologically-induced melancholy is that it makes me curious. A hint of longing sends me snooping through dark, dank parts of my brain.<br />
<br />
So, as is habit when self awareness sneaks up on me, I set out this morning in search of a poem to help sort through what I'm feeling. Unsurprisingly, Longfellow and Frost met me first.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>A feeling of sadness and longing,</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>that is not akin to pain</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>and resembles sorrow only</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>as the mist resembles rain.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Come, read to me some poem,</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>some simple and heartfelt lay</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>that shall soothe this restless feeling</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>and banish the thoughts of day. </b></div>
- From <i>The Day is Done</i>, HW Longfellow<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><i>"</i>A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words."</b> - Robert Frost<br />
<br />
<br />
I would love to find the words to express longing and homesickness in my own terms rather than relying on the rhymes of dead white guys. But, dammit, they aren't there. In a Sisyphean game of Hide-and-Seek (that's right, I mashed up mythology and recess) words lie low in the dark, dusty places. Over and over I almost but. not. quite. find them. It's maddening.<br />
<br />
Frequently when you grow up in Chicago, the first poet you study is Carl Sandburg. I'm fairly certain the themes and straightforward language of his work influenced my preference for pragmatic poetry. To this day every time - every time - the weather is soft and thick I think of this poem. It reminds me of being small and fishing with my step-father at a downtown marina.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Fog</i></b><br />
<b>The fog comes</b><br />
<b>on little cat feet.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>It sits looking</b><br />
<b>over harbor and city</b><br />
<b>on silent haunches</b><br />
<b>and then moves on.</b><br />
<br />
Mister Lewis, another favorite, gets the last word on this whole melancholy mess:<br />
<br />
<b>"Our lifelong nostalgia, our longing to be reunited with something in the universe from which we now feel cut off, to be on the inside of some door which we have always seen from the outside, is no mere neurotic fantasy, but the truest index of our real situation.</b>"<br />
- C.S. Lewis<br />
<br />
<br />RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-21582337465725150372012-08-25T11:23:00.000-07:002012-09-30T14:29:32.616-07:00legitimaterapeletherdietransvaginalmorningaftercoverviagrabutnotbirthcontrolhealthcareinsanity<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As much as I want to rail and wail and scream and stomp my blog feet about the women-hating horse crap that headlined the news this week - and has been trending all year - this is not the appropriate forum.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The correct forum would have been <a href="http://countrygirl-citygirl.blogspot.com/">The Old Blog, with Country Girl.</a> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The nonstop rant-fest I miss every. damn. day. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But here I want to focus on writing and poetry, and share these lovely things with you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Poetry is often considered a more acceptable - and let's face it, attractive - way of communicating things we shouldn't discuss in polite company. It also comes in handy when we can't manage to find words of our own to express ourselves.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It's the vehicle of choice for angst-ridden teens who scribble away in spiral-bound notebooks they hide under their beds.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It's the device that helped a domestic violence and rape survivor stand behind a microphone and share her secrets and struggles: "This </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">is my therapy." </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It's how young people express feelings they don't completely understand.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Jack and Jill sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And it is absolutely how many adults</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> express feelings they don't completely understand. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I would love to know how many relationships began with someone scrawling </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Roses are Red/Violets are Blue... </i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">on a Post-It note.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So at the close of this Week of Disgust and Anger, I will express myself using a poem instead of the much clumsier <i>semi-articulate rant</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px; padding: 0px 0px 15px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>‘Vagina’ Sonnet - <a href="http://www.joanlarkin.com/index.html">Joan Larkin</a></b></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px; padding: 0px 0px 15px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Is “vagina” suitable for use</i></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px; padding: 0px 0px 15px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>in a sonnet? I don’t suppose so.</i></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px; padding: 0px 0px 15px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>A famous poet told me, “Vagina’s ugly.”</i></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px; padding: 0px 0px 15px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Meaning, of course, the sound of it. In poems.</i></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px; padding: 0px 0px 15px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Meanwhile, he inserts his penis frequently</i></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px; padding: 0px 0px 15px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>into his verse, calling it, seriously, “My</i></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px; padding: 0px 0px 15px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Penis.” It is short, I know, and dignified.</i></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px; padding: 0px 0px 15px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>I mean of course the sound of it. In poems.</i></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px; padding: 0px 0px 15px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>This whole thing is unfortunate, but petty,</i></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px; padding: 0px 0px 15px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>like my hangup concerning English Dept. memos</i></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px; padding: 0px 0px 15px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>headed “Mr./Mrs./Miss”–only a fishbone</i></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px; padding: 0px 0px 15px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>in the throat of the revolution–</i></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px; padding: 0px 0px 15px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>a waste of brains–to be concerned about</i></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px; padding: 0px 0px 15px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>this minor issue of my cunt’s good name.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I probably lost a few of you with that last line but, damn, it was worth it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>Reprinted without permission, and begging forgiveness.</i></span></div>
</div>
RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-59915041931156935622012-08-19T19:50:00.001-07:002012-08-19T19:50:31.736-07:00Because I'm Bad, I'm Bad, You Know It<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmuDyXS4Cd4MSE-FuLkAUW6FiZNP6-TIOerrGVprZUk02Hbkss9gUeIpwKWuZUrW3r8gV5YxkukkeaQzEfCj-5NKxRLZekgNU9IGtjH7VJbY_FwQkdu5ERacb65XKyymteFvW1gYCb59oV/s1600/duchamp-urinal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmuDyXS4Cd4MSE-FuLkAUW6FiZNP6-TIOerrGVprZUk02Hbkss9gUeIpwKWuZUrW3r8gV5YxkukkeaQzEfCj-5NKxRLZekgNU9IGtjH7VJbY_FwQkdu5ERacb65XKyymteFvW1gYCb59oV/s200/duchamp-urinal.jpg" width="200" /></a>In my tireless search for all things poetically accesible I discovered yesterday was National Bad Poetry Day.<br />
<br />
How did I hear about this, but you didn't? You must not follow @PeeWeeHerman.<br />
<br />
That's right, Pee-Wee gave it a shout out. And you thought there was nothing left to be learned from the man who taught you to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UVKsd8z6scw">dance on a bar</a> and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XOGWbzUM-y8">win any argument</a>. Silly reader.<br />
<br />
We could debate what defines bad poetry, but that's like arguing about the definition of Art. If after 95 years we're still disagreeing over an autographed urinal, what hope is there that I can even begin to address good and bad in this blog?<br />
<br />
Good is in the eye of the beholder and fundamentally bad poetry has a special place in my heart - because I don't know how to write any other kind.<br />
<br />
My first attempt at prose is easily among the worst ever written. But when you are ten years old and staring out the window at a darkening sky - you notice the wind picking up before a storm and birds flying their feathers off trying to get to cover - and a rhyme pops into your head for the first time in your Smurf-centric life, it's startling.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
The wind blows</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The trees sway</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Birds fly</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It's nature's way.</div>
<br />
Profound, yes?<br />
Well...no. But the important thing, to me, is that I remember exactly where I was, what the sky looked like, how I jumped off the couch and dug through my dad's desk for a pen and paper, and documented my first rhyme-y thought.<br />
<br />
Maybe your most vivid childhood memory is of learning to ride a bike or ice skate or hold your breath under water. Two of the most crystal-clear High Definition memories of mine are reading a book, cover-to-cover, on my own for the first time (<i>Hop on Pop</i>) and writing that poem.<br />
<br />
So in honor of National Bad Poetry Day I give you what is considered, by <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2007/oct/03/news.johnezard">several s</a>ources, to be the worst poem ever written.<br />
<br />
It's so bad, it's actually likable.<br />
<br />
<div style="background-color: white; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 13px; padding: 0px;">
<strong style="background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; border-collapse: collapse; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">A Tragedy <i>by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theo_Marzials">Theophile Marzials</a></i></strong></div>
<div style="background-color: white; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 13px; padding: 0px;">
Death!<br />
Plop.<br />
The barges down in the river flop.<br />
Flop, plop,<br />
Above, beneath.<br />
From the slimy branches the grey drips drop...<br />
To the oozy waters, that lounge and flop...<br />
And my head shrieks - "Stop"<br />
And my heart shrieks - "Die."...<br />
Ugh! yet I knew - I knew<br />
If a woman is false can a friend by true?<br />
It was only a lie from beginning to end--<br />
My Devil - My "friend."...<br />
So what do I care,<br />
And my head is empty as air -<br />
I can do,<br />
I can dare<br />
(Plop, plop<br />
The barges flop<br />
Drip, drop.)<br />
I can dare, I can dare!<br />
And let myself all run away with my head<br />
And stop.<br />
Drop<br />
Dead.<br />
Plop, flop,<br />
Plop.</div>
RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7869027647037097338.post-24724285909686027532012-08-15T15:00:00.003-07:002012-08-15T19:12:14.806-07:00Forgive Me, Father Ted<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqqT5qO0OqauZT8hS29PCJpnaWfwo2SG3WMrUU91xLRzUaWvuULoxPl8HyP_0QLyam1UM5Ya1fC-gz6ZovPV0F9zsEeL88kJuT0UgAACHbnYl-x0Q99gy4ef77tu8Y5bEB5qEpLWfwl5IU/s1600/alg_confession_app.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqqT5qO0OqauZT8hS29PCJpnaWfwo2SG3WMrUU91xLRzUaWvuULoxPl8HyP_0QLyam1UM5Ya1fC-gz6ZovPV0F9zsEeL88kJuT0UgAACHbnYl-x0Q99gy4ef77tu8Y5bEB5qEpLWfwl5IU/s200/alg_confession_app.jpg" width="106" /></a></div>
It's time for a confession.<br />
<br />
I know, I know. We've only been at this for a few days and already a soul-bearing, Oprah-worthy confession?<br />
<br />
Well, it may not be worthy of The Other Big O but I <i>should</i> come clean about my intentions regarding <strike><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Ba7OMbA0Uc">your son</a></strike> this blog, ma'am.<br />
<br />
I'm not an academician, a poet or a literary guru of any stripe.<br />
<br />
What I am is a frustrated Word person. I love Words, as evidenced by the unnecessary capitalization of the word, <b>Word</b>.<br />
<br />
I love to read them, write them and play games with them. I believe Words With Friends is the single greatest technological contribution to benefit, if not advancement, of mankind since gun powder...or Doritos.<br />
<br />
So the primary, selfish purpose of this blog is to force me to write. I am not controlled enough to journal regularly, but what I lack in discipline I make up for in guilt. If I know someone, anyone (<a href="http://makelardhistory.blogspot.com/">Fabs</a>? <a href="http://www.amyccollins.com/">Amy</a>?) is reading the blog I will feel obligated to write/journal/create. Practice follows obligation and perhaps improvement follows practice.<br />
<br />
The other purpose is to spread the gospel about poetry. I swear on my beaten-to-crap copy of <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Where_the_Sidewalk_Ends_%28book%29">Where the Sidewalk Ends</a></i>, poetry can seriously improve your quality of life.<br />
<br />
So here is another lovely, pragmatic poem for you. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Whbc5YJz7OU">Oh, go on and read it</a> - it's about bubble wrap.<br />
Who doesn't love bubble wrap?<br />
<br />
<b>Cheap Therapy </b>-<i><a href="http://www.ellenbailey.com/poems/ellen_289.htm"> Geoff Weilert</a></i><br />
<br />
When a package arrives I quickly open it wide<br />
And hastily remove all the stuff found inside.<br />
I discard all items except the plastic wrapped<br />
That piece with bubbles in which air is trapped<br />
<br />
I spread the sheet and look downward with glee.<br />
And with two fingers, I pop one, two, then three.<br />
I feel quite content and my face gets a glow<br />
I pop some more and move on to the next row.<br />
<br />
I'm feeling so good I can't think of stopping<br />
As the room fills with the sounds of popping.<br />
Every worry and care and each little trouble<br />
Floats away with the pop of each air bubble.<br />
<br />
When I finally reach the end I feel quite mellow<br />
All that popping has made me a contented fellow.<br />
If you are like me, and contentment is a rarity,<br />
Get some bubble wrap; It's cheaper than therapy.RighteousPolkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04639248111653031109noreply@blogger.com3