Yesterday I heard a cardinal singing. What a beautiful sound.
http://birdsandbloomsblog.com/2012/01/03/video-the-cardinals-song/
http://birdsandbloomsblog.com/2012/01/03/video-the-cardinals-song/
Monday, March 18, 2013
Everyone Has An Opinion -"Richard Blanco's inaugural poem for Obama is a valiant flop | Books | guardian.co.uk"
Much of how we see the world (our reality) is subjective. That is a good thing when shared respectfully, many voices to be heard, many point of views, many possibilities for creation. I often marvel at how certain we are that our view is the right one. Often the only one. There is no room for another's vision. It is like this big time in our political climate today and also in the world of literature.
I find myself " feeling" if a poem works for me or if it doesn't but that is my point of view based on my subjective experience of life, my preferences etc. I think there are standards that make a poem successful whether it resonates with a reader or not. Even if a poem doesn't resonate with me I try to honor the poet's craft, vision, experience. I am not a great reviewer. I don't like to trash anyone's work.
Richard Blanco's inaugural poem.
One Today
by
Richard Blanco
"One sun rose on us today, kindled over our shores,
peeking over the Smokies, greeting the faces
of the Great Lakes, spreading a simple truth
across the Great Plains, then charging across the Rockies.
One light, waking up rooftops, under each one, a story
told by our silent gestures moving behind windows.
My face, your face, millions of faces in morning’s mirrors,
each one yawning to life, crescendoing into our day:
pencil-yellow school buses, the rhythm of traffic lights,
fruit stands: apples, limes, and oranges arrayed like rainbows
begging our praise. Silver trucks heavy with oil or paper—
bricks or milk, teeming over highways alongside us,
on our way to clean tables, read ledgers, or save lives—
to teach geometry, or ring-up groceries as my mother did
for twenty years, so I could write this poem.
All of us as vital as the one light we move through,
the same light on blackboards with lessons for the day:
equations to solve, history to question, or atoms imagined,
the “I have a dream” we keep dreaming,
or the impossible vocabulary of sorrow that won’t explain
the empty desks of twenty children marked absent
today, and forever. Many prayers, but one light
breathing color into stained glass windows,
life into the faces of bronze statues, warmth
onto the steps of our museums and park benches 2
as mothers watch children slide into the day.
One ground. Our ground, rooting us to every stalk
of corn, every head of wheat sown by sweat
and hands, hands gleaning coal or planting windmills
in deserts and hilltops that keep us warm, hands
digging trenches, routing pipes and cables, hands
as worn as my father’s cutting sugarcane
so my brother and I could have books and shoes.
The dust of farms and deserts, cities and plains
mingled by one wind—our breath. Breathe. Hear it
through the day’s gorgeous din of honking cabs,
buses launching down avenues, the symphony
of footsteps, guitars, and screeching subways,
the unexpected song bird on your clothes line.
Hear: squeaky playground swings, trains whistling,
or whispers across café tables, Hear: the doors we open
for each other all day, saying: hello| shalom,
buon giorno |howdy |namaste |or buenos días
in the language my mother taught me—in every language
spoken into one wind carrying our lives
without prejudice, as these words break from my lips.
One sky: since the Appalachians and Sierras claimed
their majesty, and the Mississippi and Colorado worked
their way to the sea. Thank the work of our hands:
weaving steel into bridges, finishing one more report
for the boss on time, stitching another wound 3
or uniform, the first brush stroke on a portrait,
or the last floor on the Freedom Tower
jutting into a sky that yields to our resilience.
One sky, toward which we sometimes lift our eyes
tired from work: some days guessing at the weather
of our lives, some days giving thanks for a love
that loves you back, sometimes praising a mother
who knew how to give, or forgiving a father
who couldn’t give what you wanted.
We head home: through the gloss of rain or weight
of snow, or the plum blush of dusk, but always—home,
always under one sky, our sky. And always one moon
like a silent drum tapping on every rooftop
and every window, of one country—all of us—
facing the stars
hope—a new constellation
waiting for us to map it,
waiting for us to name it—together"
Blanco's poem was well received and praised by people who love poetry and those who never read poems. I think the poem has lovely moments and sentiment. The one thing I didn't like was the reference to the Connecticut school tragedy. I felt it diminished the poem by injecting what has become a political symbol of what causes violence in our society and how to resolve it. This line felt out of place to me in the poem but this is my point of view.
"or the impossible vocabulary of sorrow that won’t explain
the empty desks of twenty children marked absent
today, and forever."
Did this poem work for me. In some ways it did. I will read more of Blanco's work. There is enough emotion, story, beautiful imagery and use of language and unity of thought in this poem to make me curious about his other poems. He was given a gargantuan task to write this public ceremony poem.
Now read another person's point of view.
"The celebratory public poem is an extinct genre in our sceptical postmodern times, and probably ought to stay that way. It presents the writer with insurmountable challenges in form, tone and content. How do you praise your nation wisely – with honesty and caution? How do you root that public voice in the personal and private spaces where thoughts grow? How do you write a mass-market poem?"
Read the rest of the article
http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/booksblog/2013/jan/22/richard-blanco-inaugural-poem-obama-flop
What do you think?
I find myself " feeling" if a poem works for me or if it doesn't but that is my point of view based on my subjective experience of life, my preferences etc. I think there are standards that make a poem successful whether it resonates with a reader or not. Even if a poem doesn't resonate with me I try to honor the poet's craft, vision, experience. I am not a great reviewer. I don't like to trash anyone's work.
Richard Blanco's inaugural poem.
One Today
by
Richard Blanco
"One sun rose on us today, kindled over our shores,
peeking over the Smokies, greeting the faces
of the Great Lakes, spreading a simple truth
across the Great Plains, then charging across the Rockies.
One light, waking up rooftops, under each one, a story
told by our silent gestures moving behind windows.
My face, your face, millions of faces in morning’s mirrors,
each one yawning to life, crescendoing into our day:
pencil-yellow school buses, the rhythm of traffic lights,
fruit stands: apples, limes, and oranges arrayed like rainbows
begging our praise. Silver trucks heavy with oil or paper—
bricks or milk, teeming over highways alongside us,
on our way to clean tables, read ledgers, or save lives—
to teach geometry, or ring-up groceries as my mother did
for twenty years, so I could write this poem.
All of us as vital as the one light we move through,
the same light on blackboards with lessons for the day:
equations to solve, history to question, or atoms imagined,
the “I have a dream” we keep dreaming,
or the impossible vocabulary of sorrow that won’t explain
the empty desks of twenty children marked absent
today, and forever. Many prayers, but one light
breathing color into stained glass windows,
life into the faces of bronze statues, warmth
onto the steps of our museums and park benches 2
as mothers watch children slide into the day.
One ground. Our ground, rooting us to every stalk
of corn, every head of wheat sown by sweat
and hands, hands gleaning coal or planting windmills
in deserts and hilltops that keep us warm, hands
digging trenches, routing pipes and cables, hands
as worn as my father’s cutting sugarcane
so my brother and I could have books and shoes.
The dust of farms and deserts, cities and plains
mingled by one wind—our breath. Breathe. Hear it
through the day’s gorgeous din of honking cabs,
buses launching down avenues, the symphony
of footsteps, guitars, and screeching subways,
the unexpected song bird on your clothes line.
Hear: squeaky playground swings, trains whistling,
or whispers across café tables, Hear: the doors we open
for each other all day, saying: hello| shalom,
buon giorno |howdy |namaste |or buenos días
in the language my mother taught me—in every language
spoken into one wind carrying our lives
without prejudice, as these words break from my lips.
One sky: since the Appalachians and Sierras claimed
their majesty, and the Mississippi and Colorado worked
their way to the sea. Thank the work of our hands:
weaving steel into bridges, finishing one more report
for the boss on time, stitching another wound 3
or uniform, the first brush stroke on a portrait,
or the last floor on the Freedom Tower
jutting into a sky that yields to our resilience.
One sky, toward which we sometimes lift our eyes
tired from work: some days guessing at the weather
of our lives, some days giving thanks for a love
that loves you back, sometimes praising a mother
who knew how to give, or forgiving a father
who couldn’t give what you wanted.
We head home: through the gloss of rain or weight
of snow, or the plum blush of dusk, but always—home,
always under one sky, our sky. And always one moon
like a silent drum tapping on every rooftop
and every window, of one country—all of us—
facing the stars
hope—a new constellation
waiting for us to map it,
waiting for us to name it—together"
Blanco's poem was well received and praised by people who love poetry and those who never read poems. I think the poem has lovely moments and sentiment. The one thing I didn't like was the reference to the Connecticut school tragedy. I felt it diminished the poem by injecting what has become a political symbol of what causes violence in our society and how to resolve it. This line felt out of place to me in the poem but this is my point of view.
"or the impossible vocabulary of sorrow that won’t explain
the empty desks of twenty children marked absent
today, and forever."
Did this poem work for me. In some ways it did. I will read more of Blanco's work. There is enough emotion, story, beautiful imagery and use of language and unity of thought in this poem to make me curious about his other poems. He was given a gargantuan task to write this public ceremony poem.
Now read another person's point of view.
"The celebratory public poem is an extinct genre in our sceptical postmodern times, and probably ought to stay that way. It presents the writer with insurmountable challenges in form, tone and content. How do you praise your nation wisely – with honesty and caution? How do you root that public voice in the personal and private spaces where thoughts grow? How do you write a mass-market poem?"
Read the rest of the article
http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/booksblog/2013/jan/22/richard-blanco-inaugural-poem-obama-flop
What do you think?
Friday, March 1, 2013
Robert Pen Warren and W.B. Yeats Quotes on Poetry
The
poem is a little myth of man's capacity of making life meaningful. And in the
end, the poem is not a thing we see --it is, rather, a light by which we may
see -- and what we see is life.
Robert Penn Warren
Out of the quarrel with others we make
rhetoric; out of the quarrel with ourselves we make poetry.
W.B.
Yeats
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
" What's Love Got To Do With It?" and Other Lyrics and Poems About Love. Happy Valentine's Day. May the Love Force Be With You.
A Drinking Song
WINE comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
William Butler Yeats
One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII
I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as one loves certain obscure things,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries
the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,
and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose
from the earth lives dimly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you directly without problems or pride:
I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,
except in this form in which I am not nor are you,
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,
so close that your eyes close with my dreams.
from The Essential Neruda: Selected Poems,
edited by Mark Eisner. Copyright © 2004 City Lights Books.
"What's Love Got To Do
With It?" sung by
Tina Turner
Tina Turner
You must understand
That the touch of your hand
Makes my pulse react
That it's only the thrill
Of boy meeting girl
Opposites attract
It's physical
Only logical
You must try to ignore
That it means more than that
[Chorus:]
Oh what's love got to do, got to do with it
What's love but a second hand emotion
What's love got to do, got to do with it
Who needs a heart
When a heart can be broken
It may seem to you
That I'm acting confused
When you're close to me
If I tend to look dazed
I've read it someplace
I've got cause to be
There's a name for it
There's a phrase that fits
But whatever the reason
You do it for me
[Chorus]
I've been taking on a new direction
But I have to say
I've been thinking about my own protection
It scares me to feel this way
[Chorus]
What's love got to do, got to do with it
What's love but a sweet old fashioned notion
What's love got to do, got to do with it
Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken
That the touch of your hand
Makes my pulse react
That it's only the thrill
Of boy meeting girl
Opposites attract
It's physical
Only logical
You must try to ignore
That it means more than that
[Chorus:]
Oh what's love got to do, got to do with it
What's love but a second hand emotion
What's love got to do, got to do with it
Who needs a heart
When a heart can be broken
It may seem to you
That I'm acting confused
When you're close to me
If I tend to look dazed
I've read it someplace
I've got cause to be
There's a name for it
There's a phrase that fits
But whatever the reason
You do it for me
[Chorus]
I've been taking on a new direction
But I have to say
I've been thinking about my own protection
It scares me to feel this way
[Chorus]
What's love got to do, got to do with it
What's love but a sweet old fashioned notion
What's love got to do, got to do with it
Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NYSwQFybFnQ
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/What%27s_Love_Got_to_Do_with_It_(song)
"My Funny Valentine" is a show tune from the 1937 Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart musical Babes in Arms in which it was introduced by former child star Mitzi Green. After being recorded by Chet Baker, Frank Sinatra, and Miles Davis, the song became a popular jazz standard, appearing on over 1300 albums performed by over 600 artists."
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/My_Funny_Valentine
My funny valentine
Sweet comic valentine
You make me smile with my heart
Your looks are laughable
Unphotographable
Yet youre my favourite work of art
Is your figure less than greek
Is your mouth a little weak
When you open it to speak
Are you smart?
But dont change a hair for me
Not if you care for me
Stay little valentine stay
Each day is valentines day
Is your figure less than greek
Is your mouth a little weak
When you open it to speak
Are you smart?
But dont you change one hair for me
Not if you care for me
Stay little valentine stay
Each day is valentines day
Sweet comic valentine
You make me smile with my heart
Your looks are laughable
Unphotographable
Yet youre my favourite work of art
Is your figure less than greek
Is your mouth a little weak
When you open it to speak
Are you smart?
But dont change a hair for me
Not if you care for me
Stay little valentine stay
Each day is valentines day
Is your figure less than greek
Is your mouth a little weak
When you open it to speak
Are you smart?
But dont you change one hair for me
Not if you care for me
Stay little valentine stay
Each day is valentines day
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bt7eqkPXO8A
When I Was One-and-Twenty
When I was one-and-twenty
I heard a wise man say,
“Give crowns and pounds and guineas
But not your heart away;
Give pearls away and rubies
But keep your fancy free.”
But I was one-and-twenty,
No use to talk to me.
When I was one-and-twenty
I heard him say again,
“The heart out of the bosom
Was never given in vain;
’Tis paid with sighs a plenty
And sold for endless rue.”
And I am two-and-twenty,
And oh, ’tis true, ’tis true.
Source: Father: An Anthology of Verse (EP Dutton & Company, 1931)
Poem to an Unnameable Man
Hear audios of love poems
at the Poetry Foundation
Poem to an Unnameable Man
You have changed me already. I am a fireball
That is hurtling towards the sky to where you are
You can choose not to look up but I am a giant orange ball
That is throwing sparks upon your face
Oh look at them shake
Upon you like a great planet that has been murdered by change
O too this is so dramatic this shaking
Of my great planet that is bigger than you thought it would be
So you ran and hid
Under a large tree. She was graceful, I think
That tree although soon she will wither
Into ten black snakes upon your throat
And when she does I will be wandering as I always am
A graceful lady that is part museum
Of the voices of the universe everyone else forgets
I will hold your voice in a little box
And when you come upon me I won’t look back at you
You will feel a hand upon your heart while I place your voice back
Into the heart from where it came from
And I will not cry also
Although you will expect me to
I was wiser too than you had expected
For I knew all along you were mine
Hear audios of love poems
at the Poetry Foundation
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/browse/#subject=117
Friday, January 18, 2013
"The Voice of a Manuscript" Blog Post by Poet, Editor, Teacher Jessie Carty
Jessie Carty is a talented poet, teacher and editor. In this linked blog post she presents her thoughts about putting a poetry manuscript together whether a chapbook or full length collection.
''I’ve written fairly extensively on this blog about the process of putting together a manuscript: chapbook and full length. Even so, I find myself continuing to struggle a bit with the final organization for my second book (it will be out in September from Sibling Rivalry Press). Well, not so much the organization as which poems to leave in versus which ones to take out.''
Read the rest.
http://jessiecarty.com/2013/01/04/the-voice-of-a-manuscript/
Notice this-
"I also finished Elizabeth P Glixman’s chapbook from Finishing Line I Am the Flame which is a strong example of how to put together a shorter manuscript. These poems about maternal lineage were strong portraits that had me thinking even more about family."
This is great feedback. Thanks, Jessie!
Here is a list of Jessie's books.
http://jessiecarty.com/publications/poetry/
''I’ve written fairly extensively on this blog about the process of putting together a manuscript: chapbook and full length. Even so, I find myself continuing to struggle a bit with the final organization for my second book (it will be out in September from Sibling Rivalry Press). Well, not so much the organization as which poems to leave in versus which ones to take out.''
Read the rest.
http://jessiecarty.com/2013/01/04/the-voice-of-a-manuscript/
Notice this-
"I also finished Elizabeth P Glixman’s chapbook from Finishing Line I Am the Flame which is a strong example of how to put together a shorter manuscript. These poems about maternal lineage were strong portraits that had me thinking even more about family."
This is great feedback. Thanks, Jessie!
Here is a list of Jessie's books.
http://jessiecarty.com/publications/poetry/
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