My kids poetry!

The Poetry Foundation has a fun, quick podcast entitled 'How to Raise a Poetry Imp'. It is worth a listen.

Reading poetry to my kids is part of our regular life. I have written about my kids listening to poetry here and about their poetry writing here, and about introducing kids to the arts, including poetry here.

I highly recommend you read some poetry to your kids. 'Poetry Speaks to Children' is THE best book to begin with. My kids ages 4  to almost 10 all love it! We also enjoyed a Robert Louis Stevenson coloring book this year.

We are just finishing our school year. I have been typing up all the kid's poems, between them there were almost 40 finished poems!

Our poetry class consisted of either reading/listening to a 'real' poem and discuss it or using  fine art painting as a prompt and then each of my kids would write a poem on a similar topic. It was fun to see the differences in their ages in how they wrote:

Laura, 6 has written 'poems' that are mainly train of thought narratives:

At the Park
By Laura Cole, age 6

At the park I play and play

Mom says ‘we will have our picnic now’

I have grape juice
My mother brought chips and salsa
I say ‘that is what I want’
She says ‘you can’t just have that’
I have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich
mmmmmmm

I have a Laffy Taffy treat
I go play on the monkey bars
I climb up on top
I say ‘yipee’

I say to Mom ‘can we go home now’
She says ‘yes’
We go home

I say to mom ‘I’ll just have a little dinner’
I go to bed
I forgot to brush my teeth
I get out of bed and brush my teeth
I go to Mom and say
‘I had a good time at the park’

Lily, 8, has written poems that attempted to mimic the descriptive nature of what we were reading:

The Sun
By Lily Cole, age 8

The sun, gold in the day;
The moon, silver in the night;
The stars twinkle like a dozen little jewels
and they all get together and make day and night.

Annie, 4 has written, well, dictated to me, the most rambling, random, funny 'poems':

Drops and Roses
By Annie Rose, age 4

Drops and roses
smell good
I love when it snows
I like when I eat the
ice off our car

I love flowers that are
pink and purple
Elves are so funny
I love the video*
pine cones and skittles,
M&M’s have chocolate in them
 

I love honey
roses and foxgloves and bluebonnets,
pen sharpeners and everything pretty
I love Mommy and I have love in my heart
and love inside my body.

* I am assuming she is referring to the movie 'Elf, one of our favorites!


Matthew, who is a very mature 9, wrote about things that are concrete and real and tried to make a point:

The Sun
By Matthew Cole, age 9

It’s destructive solar rays
could blast us out of existence
if they reached us.

If it came an inch closer
we would explode;

an inch away and

we would freeze.

The sun, a blazing juggernaut

The sun, a curse and a gift.

I plan to make a handmade poetry book of their poems, combining photos with each poem. It is a project I will work on slowly over the summer. I think the kids will like having a finished copy of their work in hand, they may feel like they have been 'published'!

I know poetry sounds like something from the dark ages of high school memories, but really if you give it a try there are some great poets and poems available; and kids that are exposed early to poetry don't know it is not cool to read poetry and will have their perspective enriched!!!

Reading poetry together is like sharing the secrets of the universe!

If you have any poetry books that you have found are great for kids, please let me know. I need something new for next year.

B is for Bad Poetry

I bought the book 'B is for Bad Poetry' by Pamela August Russell for this very brilliant one line verse:

Polaroid

That's a nice sunset
in the background
but you look sad.

By Pamela August Russell


Simple I know, but anyone who can capture a truth like that has my attention and deserves my $9 on Amazon! Show me a happy Polaroid and show me a lie.

Enjoy a touch of artistic sadness today!

 

******************

I am doing a photo collaboration with Shannon Mucha and Anita Michelsen. Each one of us has a week a month where we suggest a prompt ~ poem, Bible verse, quote or whatever and then we interpret it in photos. 

This week it was Shannon's prompt. She suggested a poem by Philip Booth entitled 'How to see Deer'. Here is what we came up with and I love it, if I can be so bold!

We post all the photos to our group Tribloom on Flickr.

Poetry book recommendations

Tellin' it like it is....

I have a strong preference for poetry that is accessible to normal folks reading. When I finish a poem I don’t want to think ‘what was that about?’ and left feeling dumb! I do not have time to go back to school and concentrate in literature class, so instead I look for poets that make it easy for me.

That said I still like my poets to be smarter than me, more creative. I want to ‘see’ what they are talking about and feel that sense of ‘yes, I know what you mean’ and think ‘oh how clever’. I like that feeling.

I would like to share with you some of my favorite poetry books that have met these requirements:

1) Late Wife by Claudia Emersen – this is my all time favorite book, about a woman’s experience of a divorce. Powerful, brilliant, moving. Brilliant metaphors at every turn.

2) Mean Time by Carol Ann Duffy – this was one of my first poetry loves, I took a workshop from Carol Ann Duffy in Ireland, goodness - it was 16 years ago! How I wish I had kept writing over these years….

3) The World Doesn’t End by Charles Simic – this is a brilliant, surreal, fun, devastating look at the absurd

4) The Trouble with Poetry by Billy Collins – funny, insightful, cuts through, holds up and describes the oddest things.

5) Delights & Shadows by Ted Kooser – what a lovely world this poet lives in, concrete, real, he studies those around him and reflects their mundane lives with dignity

6) North by Seamus Heaney – Ok this is a little too dense for me, but the words are layered and lovely and earthy. I can feel like I am in Ireland when I read this book.

7) Anne Stevenson selected poems – a delight, she is that wise older woman who is gentle and insightful. Her poems are real and well ‘seen’.

8) The Art of The Lathe by B.H. Fairchild – This poet is a MASTER of the English language. He writes about subject matter I don’t care about in real life, but writes in such a way that makes me compelled, riveted, amazed!

9) Good Poems complied by Garrison Keillor – this is the perfect starter poetry book, he has complied a complete, easy to read, diverse look at modern poetry.

10) currently reading Small Knots by Kelli Russell Agodon, who is a visitor of my blog! – I have not finished this book, but so far I am very much enjoying her insights and sensitive observations on life as a woman, daughter and a cancer survivor. Reading this book is like being touched by a light breeze ~ gentle and feminine, but sure.

Do you know of any wonderful poetry books? If you do, can you leave me a comment? Much appreciated.













*** Disclaimer – Some of these books are like watching movies that have been awarded an R rating. I would not recommend them for children ;) ***

poetry means saying a lot with less

Poetry to me is saying something in fewer words than the same said in prose. In real life I am NOT a poet. I can talk and talk about anything and everything, at length. I wonder if that is why I am so drawn to poetry, why I so admire poets who can say so much with so little.

I read my kids a lot of poetry. We write poems every week. I have noticed that the younger my child the less they 'get' the succinctness of poetry. Matthew, 9 can write a 4 line poem and be happy, Lily's (almost 8) are double that, Laura (almost 7) - are a little longer. Annie, 4 - her poems are tomes! She likes to give details, real life 'and then Mommy said' details at length. Perhaps she will be a storyteller instead!

I am going to try Haiku with them next. See if I can get the less is more concept in their minds (at least for all but Annie).

"Each haiku captures a moment of experience; an instant when the ordinary suddenly reveals its inner nature and makes us take a second look at the event, at human nature, at life."

A.C. Missias

I love this quote. When I read a poem that makes me take that second look, makes me more mindful of the loveliness of life I feel connected to creativity and brilliance.

I have recently found this blog by Grace, who is a homeschooling Mom. She is going to write a Haiku a day this year! What an amazing idea. Check out her Feb 1 Haiku. - Can't you just 'see' those little people getting up to something?


Billy Collins wrote this poem about Haiku:

I own this CD of Collins reading his poetry. I highly recommend it.

Japan

Today I pass the time reading
a favorite haiku,
saying the few words over and over.

It feels like eating
the same small, perfect grape
again and again.

I walk through the house reciting it
and leave its letters falling
through the air of every room.

I stand by the big silence of the piano and say it.
I say it in front of a painting of the sea.
I tap out its rhythm on an empty shelf.

I listen to myself saying it,
then I say it without listening,
then I hear it without saying it.

And when the dog looks up at me,
I kneel down on the floor
and whisper it into each of his long white ears.

It's the one about the one-ton temple bell
with the moth sleeping on its surface,

and every time I say it, I feel the excruciating
pressure of the moth
on the surface of the iron bell.

When I say it at the window,
the bell is the world
and I am the moth resting there.

When I say it at the mirror,
I am the heavy bell
and the moth is life with its papery wings.

And later, when I say it to you in the dark,
you are the bell,
and I am the tongue of the bell, ringing you,

and the moth has flown
from its line
and moves like a hinge in the air above our bed.

By Billy Collins



Ahhh, I love poetry.

Imperfect giving

Check out this post by Sherry about the larger context of giving. Giving not just to the current needs (which of course we should), but also to people closer to home.

I love the realness of this poem (especially the 2nd verse) 'I was mean to you today' by Pat Schneider. It was printed over that the Writers Almanac, a place I visit often.

A poem for a daughter

I have begun a new venture with my friends Shannon and Anita. We are doing a themed collaborative project to keep us accountable for taking photos. We are each responsible one week a month for suggesting a theme (with one month quiet) and then post the photos together on our new Flickr group Tribloom. We plan to keep this going for the year and possibly create a Blurb book of our images at the end.

Week one, month one was my turn. I picked an Anne Stevenson poem called 'A poem for a daughter' I liked the idea that a child creates a mother. So true.

This is our offering:



Shona - top left
Anita - top right
Shannon - bottom left.

Read the full poem here.

Celebrating 2009 with a Cinquain

Jennifer Lee over at the Wishstudio suggests ways of commemorating our year.

Until I read her post yesterday I just had not taken the time to stop and look back. I hardly even realize that it is the end of another year. She asks some questions to help you take stock. I took about 10 minutes to consider these. It is a great exercise, why not have a go?

· What are you most proud of?
completing my book
getting back to blogging regularly
taking photos almost every day
keeping my kids on track in their schooling
maintaining my home, my closest relationships while being busy
birthing another Cole baby


· What was your biggest learning?
I can’t get away with not exercising :(
I can do it all if I am organized and focused

· How did you stretch yourself?
traveling internationally with 4 kids while pregnant
schooling the kids right up until I was due with Max

· How will you celebrate who you’ve become?
A reward - my husband and I are going to Houston for the night New Years Day. Sounds small but is what we like to do - go visit old haunts, drive by my old house (the house I brought my first 3 kids home to), go the art museum, dinner at a great restaurant, a night in a hotel, antique shopping on 19th street, sit in our favorite coffee shop and write and plan our 2010 life (if I didn’t have Max we would go to the theater, but instead we may just go to the movies)

But the best way I can celebrate is to keep it all going. All my efforts can be lost if I don't keep at it. I want to maintain my productivity and vision and really be this person I am becoming.

~



Jennifer also suggested we write a 2009 Cinquain:

I love how the structure or rules of a poem helps direct your poetic words.

A Cinquain is constructed in the following way (this is copied from Jennifer's Wishstudio post):
· The first line is one word (a noun/the topic)
· The second line is two descriptive words (2 adjectives that describe the first word)
· The third line is three action words (3 -ly adverbs or –ing verbs)
· The fourth line contains four words that express a feeling or make a statement (a 4 word phrase)
· The last line is one word (a synonym or adjective that refers to the first word)

My cinquain for 2009:

Fullness
Round, satisfying
stretching, flying, becoming
Live inside a dream
Abundant


Using a thesaurus makes this a simple exercise! Why not have a go?

Lovely

Visit Michelle for a sweet winter poem.

Emily Dickenson - I am alive - I guess

I am alive - I guess

I am alive -- I guess --
The Branches on my Hand
Are full of Morning Glory --
And at my finger's end --

The Carmine -- tingles warm --
And if I hold a Glass
Across my Mouth -- it blurs it --
Physician's -- proof of Breath --

I am alive -- because
I am not in a Room --
The Parlor -- Commonly -- it is --
So Visitors may come --

And lean -- and view it sidewise --
And add "How cold -- it grew" --
And "Was it conscious -- when it stepped
In Immortality?"

I am alive -- because
I do not own a House --
Entitled to myself -- precise --
And fitting no one else --

And marked my Girlhood's name --
So Visitors may know
Which Door is mine -- and not mistake --
And try another Key --

How good -- to be alive!
How infinite -- to be
Alive -- two-fold -- The Birth I had --
And this -- besides, in -- Thee!

By Emily Dickenson



It is so good to be alive. Today as the weather in Texas finally feels like it should, cool and sunny, just in time for Thanksgiving next week. I am typing (one handed) with a sweet warm person, blanket wrapped, in my lap. It is good to be alive.

I am looking for poems that are all about birth and motherhood. I am telling you, they are hard to find. If anyone knows of any, please send me a link. Or if you have written one yourself, would you share? I want to read poetic visions of this most beautiful state of being.

Here is one I wrote for Max:


November Baby

bundled against this new cold
more a reminder of the place from which he came
wrapped these past months
an early gift

he breathes without me now
he thinks behind that rapid eye movement
his body a portal for a life untold
footfalls to be filmed
pre-whispers written

here I am again in love with the
necessary curling of limbs
the soft skull
it’s delicate hollow unfilled,
unfocused eyes,
mind not yet made up
on whether he likes the cold
his mother’s cradle, brown blankets
blue soother, bassinet, bouncy seat

the stroller waiting outside
to take him to new places
to the gate at the end of the drive.

Smoke

I didn't plan it, but Laura arrived into the schoolroom with incense sticks from my craft table! (One more reason I like to homeschooling - my kids get to enjoy incense candles in school). I was having a really hard time getting my camera to focus on the smoke with such a dark house, honestly we have NO natural light in my house, so often I have to use to 1600 ISO, ahhh! but when I caught these two shots I knew that didn't matter. They may be grainy and so unprintable, but oh am I pleased I have them.

If things couldn't get better - Laura watched the smoke for a long time, swaying and waving her arms in an echo of the dancing smoke and finally said "I wish I was smoke, then I could move like that". How lovely to see something mundane through the eyes of a child.



And top it off, here is a poem by Henry David Thoreau 1817 - 1862:

Smoke

Light-winged Smoke, Icarian bird,
Melting thy pinions in thy upward flight,
Lark without song, and messenger of dawn
Circling above the hamlets as they nest;
Or else, departing dream, and shadowy form
Of midnight vision, gathering up thy skirts;
By night star-veiling, and by day
Darkening the light and blotting out the sun;
Go thou my incense upward from this hearth,
And ask the gods to pardon this clear flame.


Henry David Thoreau

Waiting

I love the visuals of this short poem by Tom Hennen read so well by Garrison Keillor on the Writer's Almanac.

Poems that change your perspective

Pump House


Ted Kooser in his book 'The Poetry Home Repair Manual' writes about poetry changing the way you view the world. He says "...here's a one-line poem by Joseph Hutchison:

- Artichoke

Oh heart weighted down by so many wings

Could you ever look at an artichoke in the same way after reading that?"

I love that idea. That the poem burrows down beneath the surface, or runs around the back to expose a new perspective, that the poet shows you something that you never saw before, illuminates the mundane. I thank God for poets who can do this. I would love to be able to do that too, I know it will take years at the rate I can study and write poetry.

Anyhow, on the Writer's Alamac Sunday was a poem by Billy Collins entitled 'Water Table'. It struck a chord with me because last week we had our well pump replaced. Throughout the whole ordeal - days without water, without flushing toilets, conversations with the plumbing guys about needs and cost, dealing with them as half way through the job they recommended upgrading our pipes for even more money, feeling trapped by it all - it never once occurred to me to think about it in a poetic way. Never once did my mind think
"...about the enormous body of water
that lies under this house,
cool, unseen reservoir,
silent except for the sounds of dripping
and the incalculable shifting
of all the heavy darkness that it holds." from Billy Collins 'Water Table'

Nope, not once. Sigh.

Even if you don't have well water issues, you really need to hear this poem read by Garrison Keillor. It is simple and beautiful and moving. Oh, I am so glad for poets.

Why read poetry?

I have read a bunch of poetry over the years. Why? I don’t really know for sure. Perhaps it is the whole idea of painting a little picture of a moment in time or a feeling has an appeal to me. Perhaps it is ‘cause when I read a good poem it is like having an insight into genius, I love to be amazed at how someone could describe, so succinctly an experience I have had. Perhaps it is ‘cause I grew up in Ireland, that poetic place where poetry and the Irish identity seems to have a unique living history.

But, in all honesty I have struggled at times to keep on reading. So much poetry is rubbish. I have struggled through poems that seem to me senseless. They make me feel like I am missing something obvious, that I am just not smart enough to ‘get it’. Those poems are either not for me or in reality don’t make sense, like the poet tried too hard to be clever or artsy but end up talking gibberish.

I have also struggled through poems that are overly sentimental. With lots of hearts and souls, but are uncomfortable to read. Poorly written, clichéd, trite, obvious, like the poet learned to string poetic sounding words together without being ‘real’ (I am particularly sensitive to this criticism because I admit to have written many of this type of terrible poetry in my time ;)

But in recent years I have found poets that are brilliant, insightful and can capture reality so perfectly it makes you sigh to read their work. It is like watching a 5 star movie like Gladiator or Pride and Prejudice. You can identify with the words or concept so easily it is a pleasure to read. I have found poets that write poems that are accessible to regular people, poets that seem to not be trying too hard to be someone they are not, that are authentic and insightful: Billy Collins, Claudia Emersen, B H Fairchild, Charles Simic, Ted Kooser, to name a few.

When I read poems by these poets the world slows for a minute. I can see how important the details of life are. Reading accessible, clever poems helps me appreciate life a little more. And in the face of all the busyness I need to be reminded, constantly, to appreciate life. My kids are growing so fast, goodness I have been pregnant for 8 months but it seems like a few weeks – have I really taken the time to enjoy it, to think about life – how it is now, how it will be when Max is born?

I want to read more. I enjoy reading about all topics, but I am constantly on the look out for poems on the topic of motherhood that are beautiful and accessible and real. I love Sylvia Plath’s work, but she is not exactly uplifting. I like Carol Ann Duffy, but she doesn’t have too many poems about being a Mom. I find random poems here and there, but it doesn’t seem to be a topic that has been explored enough.

If more Moms saw the relevance and importance of reading poetry, perhaps then there would be more poems written about being a Mom too. I want to read them. Like this one:


To My Daughter in a Red Coat

by Anne Stevenson

Late October. It is afternoon.
My daughter and I walk through the leaf-strewn
Corridors of the park
In the light and the dark
Of the elms' thin arches.

Around us brown leaves fall and spread.
Small winds stir the minor dead.
Dust powders the air.
Those shrivelled women stare.
At us from their cold benches.

Child, your mittens tug your sleeves.
They lick your drumming feet, the leaves.
You come so fast, so fast.
You violate the past,
My daughter, as your coat dances.



Here are some articles on the issue of reading poetry.

Elizabeth Bishop's realism

This is an amazingly touching poem about a family that may seem unlovely to some, but the center of the world to another.

Filling Station

by Elizabeth Bishop

Oh, but it is dirty!
—this little filling station,
oil-soaked, oil-permeated
to a disturbing, over-all
black translucency.
Be careful with that match!

Father wears a dirty,
oil-soaked monkey suit
that cuts him under the arms,
and several quick and saucy
and greasy sons assist him
(it’s a family filling station),
all quite thoroughly dirty.

Do they live in the station?
It has a cement porch
behind the pumps, and on it
a set of crushed and grease-
impregnated wickerwork;
on the wicker sofa
a dirty dog, quite comfy.

Some comic books provide
the only note of color—
of certain color. They lie
upon a big dim doily
draping a taboret
(part of the set), beside
a big hirsute begonia.

Why the extraneous plant?
Why the taboret?
Why, oh why, the doily?
(Embroidered in daisy stitch
with marguerites, I think,
and heavy with gray crochet.)

Somebody embroidered the doily.
Somebody waters the plant,
or oils it, maybe. Somebody
arranges the rows of cans
so that they softly say:
esso—so—so—so
to high-strung automobiles.
Somebody loves us all.

Learn more about Elizabeth Bishop and read some more of her poems at Poetry Foundation.

My girl's poems

In week one of school we worked on a poem inspired by the children's book Blueberries for Sal. I would be lying if I told you my girls wrote it. Let's say they were a little rusty after the summer off, so I had to help, prompt, drag something out of them. The result is not worth posting here ;)

But this last week they were in groove! We worked on the idea of using visual art to prompt poetry. This is something I do often when I write something to go with one of my photos. In art appreciation this week we were discussing the painting 'The Oddie Children' by Sir William Beechey from the book 'Come Look with Me':


So the girls (Matthew.... I can't recall where he was, working on his reading or something... somehow he missed poetry 'class') each wrote a poem inspired by this painting. They were so tickled that the painting showed 4 kids who are about the same ages as my kids, so they named them the Cole children and spoke about them as if they were themselves.

They both dictated their poems to me and I wrote them down and then helped them try to find slightly better words (Laura had used the word 'nice' 4 times), but I find that they are fairly resistant to change once they have recorded their 'words'. Laura was particularly delighted to see how much of the page her ideas filled up! It is going to be a good year.

Here are their sweet poems:

I)

Four children playing
at the end of the forest
under the weak blue sky.
The girls are comfortable
in their sashes
the boy’s arrow ready to fly.

By Lily Cole age 7


II)

Laura in her nice pink sash
Lily in her bright blue sash
Annie in her new blue sash
Matthew in handsome royal green clothes
Silver buttons on his coat
They are so happy playing
that they smile with joy.

Annie happily crawling on the ground
The dirt is plain brown
And gets her hands all dirty
Lily is holding her straw hat in her hands
Laura peeps from behind Matthew
They are so happy playing
that they smile with joy.

By Laura Cole, age 5

Billy Collins interview on Littoral

Check out this interesting interview of poet Billy Collins on the literary journal 'Littoral' of the website Key West Literary Seminar.

My favorite quote from this interview is "I read others not to steal but to find gates of departure for my own flights".

What a relief to arty souls who like to borrow! Looking at the art of others, reading their poems is a way of finding that starting point for your own art. If it is good enough for Collins, it is good enough for me!

Poetry listening and children

In school this year my kids and I are listening to a CD of poems read by actors. The CD is a companion to the book 'The Poets' Corner: The One-and-Only Poetry Book for the Whole Family' complied by John Lithgow. Lithgow introduces and explains why he likes each one while different actors read some 50 poems.

You can hear (see) Carol Muske-Duke and John Lithgow reading some from the book:



There is nothing quite like poetry performed, it transfixes. Even my kids love to listen to poetry. Last year we read and listened to poems from the book 'Poetry Speaks to Children'. They loved the pictures and learned some of the poems by heart. I thought that we would be finished reading the book half way through the year, but we read and re-read and re-read the poems all year long, they never got bored of hearing them. It was lovely to see which ones became their favorites. They were a little disappointed when I told them we have a new plan this year. But I think they will like listening to this new CD.


They also did poetry writing last year. We used 'Writing Poetry with Children'. It was fairly simple, a decent introduction to different forms of poetry. I filmed them reading their poems, it was good 'public' speaking practice. Lily was very shy at first, but she gained confidence as the year went on.

This year I plan to wing it. I will have them write whatever inspires them about one of that week's literature books. For example, yesterday the girls and I read 'Blueberries for Sal' (while eating blueberries and cream) and then they did an illustration from the book for drawing practice. Tomorrow, in 'poetry' class I will work with them on writing a poem based on Sal, Little Bear and the blueberries. (I am sure Matthew will write on something different being a boy and older (in soul if not much in age)) We'll see how it goes!

Book recommendation

For anyone wanting to know a little more about the craft of poetry I highly recommend this book: The Poetry Home Repair Manual by Ted Kooser. It is easy to read, full of great advice about writing poems and is peppered with examples of poems to explain his points.

Ted Kooser was the US Poet Laureate for 2 years and writes very concrete, storytelling type poems about ordinary life. I have an hour long Podcast of him reading is poetry and he really takes you to his tangible world. Check out this link to read a few of his poems. I particularly like the 2nd one entitled 'Tattoo', he paints a picture of the passing of time without being melodramatic. Good stuff.

Billy Collins

I love this poet. He is clever, insightful and so funny. I own 2 CD's of him reading his poems and never tire of hearing his voice and words.

Check out this link to hear the Billy Collins radio. This 'radio station' will play poems by Collins and many similar poets. I like to run it in the background while I am at the computer.

Here is a poem by Billy Collins that always makes me laugh:



Nostalgia

By Billy Collins

Remember the 1340's? We were doing a dance called the Catapult.
You always wore brown, the color craze of the decade,
and I was draped in one of those capes that were popular,
the ones with unicorns and pomegranates in needlework.
Everyone would pause for beer and onions in the afternoon,
and at night we would play a game called "Find the Cow."
Everything was hand-lettered then, not like today.

Where has the summer of 1572 gone? Brocade and sonnet
marathons were the rage. We used to dress up in the flags
of rival baronies and conquer one another in cold rooms of stone.
Out on the dance floor we were all doing the Struggle
while your sister practiced the Daphne all alone in her room.
We borrowed the jargon of farriers for our slang.
These days language seems transparent a badly broken code.

The 1790's will never come again. Childhood was big.
People would take walks to the very tops of hills
and write down what they saw in their journals without speaking.
Our collars were high and our hats were extremely soft.
We would surprise each other with alphabets made of twigs.
It was a wonderful time to be alive, or even dead.

I am very fond of the period between 1815 and 1821.
Europe trembled while we sat still for our portraits.
And I would love to return to 1901 if only for a moment,
time enough to wind up a music box and do a few dance steps,
or shoot me back to 1922 or 1941, or at least let me
recapture the serenity of last month when we picked
berries and glided through afternoons in a canoe.

Even this morning would be an improvement over the present.
I was in the garden then, surrounded by the hum of bees
and the Latin names of flowers, watching the early light
flash off the slanted windows of the greenhouse
and silver the limbs on the rows of dark hemlocks.

As usual, I was thinking about the moments of the past,
letting my memory rush over them like water
rushing over the stones on the bottom of a stream.
I was even thinking a little about the future, that place
where people are doing a dance we cannot imagine,
a dance whose name we can only guess.

A place for poetry

Reading and listening to poetry are different beasts, I like poetry sites where you can hear the poet reading their own work. So here is a link to a source for current day poets reading their work: From the Fishouse.