Poetry Friday – A Diminishing Poem of Presence

Today is Poetry Friday and Jama Rattigan at Jama’s Alphabet Soup is hosting today. She has a sweet post that includes smiles from Helena Nelson.

Last week I spent the week in Minneapolis and one of our many adventures was to visit an independent bookstore called Paperback Exchange. We had so much fun browsing, and we each chose all the books we wanted. My daughter was recommending titles to us. The store owner was chiming in. I found the poetry section, and the first book I picked up was this Poetry of Presence volume.

Look at that partial list of contributors

The editor Phyllis Cole-Dai writes a poem in the introduction: “On How to Pick and Eat Poems”. Two lines from her poem:

So put a poem upon your lips. Chew its pulp.
Let its juice spill over your tongue.

Read the whole poem at Phyllis’ web page here. Listen to her read it here.

Reading that poem at the store sold me on the book. After we got back to my daughter’s house with all our books, I was sorting through my books, looking for the poetry book. After a few minutes, I found it in my husband’s pile, where it’s been ever since. Yesterday, I came home and he was copying Sifter by Naomi Shihab Nye into his journal. It begins with:

When our English teacher gave
our first writing invitation of the year,
Become a kitchen implement
in 2 descriptive paragraphs,
I did not think
butcher knife or frying pan,
I thought immediately
of soft flour showering through the little holes
of the sifter and the sifter’s pleasing circular
swishing sound, and wrote it down.

Find the rest of the poem on page 30 in Poetry of Presence.

Weeks ago, I made a note that the Poetry Sisters’ challenge was a diminishing poem in September. I’m giving it a rough try, inspired by Nye’s poem. (I have no idea what that last line means, haha! I’m going to have to try that again!)

Be a tender sifter
of time. Just sift
the bad and sit
with the good–it
weighs on we, then I

September Open Write 2023

September 16, 2023
Recuerdos de Comida y Amor /
Memories of Food and Love
with Stacey Joy

Gentle, round Abel, so
soft spoken, barely sweating
as he worked in the heat

Hermana, ¿qué pasa?
“Nada, hermano,”
as I munch a tortilla chip

fresh out of the oil
(he’s been frying pounds of
them so patiently)

now I look out my window
and see Joshua’s Perch
up on Abel’s Mountain

and I always think of you,
Hermano

September 17, 2023
There’s a Diamond in my Soup with Stacey Joy

Dear Sister,
You remember all the
food and love showered
on us by generations.
We knew we were
loved by our eating.
I’ve tried to forget many
of these rich delights,
but you make them
over
and
over
and
over
and you don’t let me forget.
You remind me how
delicious they were by bringing
them to me–tastier, I think than
Mom or Grandma made them–
macaroni and cheese,
tamales, lasagna,
chicken pot pie,
cherry cobbler,
lemon pie,
cinnamon rolls,
biscuits…
And today you brought
chicken tortilla casserole
and chile-cheese cornbread.
I try to forget,
I try to forget,
I try…oh, forget it.
Pass the cheese sauce, please.

September 18, 2023
For the Love of Words with Barb Edler

I was six years old
waiting for the mail
Maybe this will be my lucky day!
Sometimes it was, and the
mailman would pull out that
cardboard covered package
that made my heart swell.

Two beginning readers,
this time maybe it was
Hop on Pop and
Are You My Mother?
I couldn’t make out a word,
but I enjoyed the pictures.
I probably knew the letters,
and maybe I had memorized
some words from Dick and Jane
at school (Look, see, come…)
However, these books at home
were magical.

I don’t remember my mama
ever reading books with me, though.
She was busy with seven kids.
Cooking, cleaning, ironing,
knocking new doorway holes
in the wall and remodeling
with a perfectly crafted doorjamb,
as needed. That kind of stuff.

I read books with my sister, though.
When she came home from working
at the telephone company
and/or on Saturdays (I’m not really sure),
she would sit with me and my new books.
She would paint my fingernails and read.
She somehow made the symbols
not so scary,
not so impossibly gibberish.
She taught me how to read.

I often wonder how and why
my mom ever agreed to buy
those books for me.
How could she have afforded them?
Just for me.
They even came with
my name on the box.

I have always treasured the memory.
These books are still favorites.
Every time I see a copy, I smile and remember.
Sixty years ago, and the flood of love and support
come back.

Thank you, Mama.
Thank you, Chris.

September 19, 2023
How to Triumph with Barb Edler

Generations

My grandma was quiet,
fragile, and seemed to lean
on her daughter to provide
strength, muscles, and purpose.

Her daughter, my mom,
of my grandma, but not her

Mom would have loved to study
architecture, but she married instead.
Finished raising her family–five still
in the next when her husband died.

Me, of my mom, but not her

I went to college and finished
even if it took 6.5 years and
ended in a geography degree,
the first B.A. in my family

My daughter, of me, but not me

She just came down the stairs
hair slicked back in a pony donning
a stylish sweater and sweats below
grabs the coffee we brought home
then returns to her home office

She’s a marketing director because
she asked for the title and salary to
match her responsibilities–she makes
things happen, rather than watches

My daughter, of me, but not me

Gradually, the women in our family
become more powerful

September 20, 2023
Barbie You with Glenda Funk

Random Barbie Talk

K: Are you writing a poem today?

D: Yes, about Barbie.

K: Barbie?

D: Yes, Barbie. It’s Glenda’s prompt.
Remember, you sat by her at dinner
in Anaheim? And Ken, who also liked
the movie. He has a Kenough shirt.

K: Yes, sure I remember, but I still don’t
want to see the movie.

D: I never owned a Barbie. I had a Francie
and a Skipper. Skipper was
Barbie’s little sister,
and Francie was like a
young teen with small boobs.
Lori had a Barbie and a Midge,
who had a brown beehive and freckles.
Judi’s friend borrowed Lori’s Barbie and Midge
for a 4-H diorama and never returned them.
That’s one of those unforgivable offenses
of family lore for the Reeds.
My little brother had G.I. Joe. We played
together a lot, and I must say
G.I. Joe was better.

K: Is that why it took so long for
you to fall for me?

D: What?

K: Were you looking for a soldier?

D: He had boots that were easy to
put on and a backpack.

K: I had boots and a backpack.
He also had guns.

D: Oh, I forgot about the guns!
That’s gross.
I liked his wooden foot locker.

Slice of Life – A Week in Minneapolis

Sept. 26, 2023 TwoWritingTeachers.org

Flew into Mill City and had fresh sourdough
and beans in vodka sauce prepared by a pro
(actually my daughter) who’s such a great cook
Baba’s1, then we hiked around a lake2–take a look:

Shopped for bargains at Sierra outfitter store
burgers on the grill, peanut sauce salad and more
Boba tea at Mall of America, Teresa’s for Mexican food
Then dessert at my son-in-law’s parents with gratitude

Walked around Bde Maka Ska3, salad at Crisp and Green
The Goodwill store to shop for a bargain of jeans
But what a surprise, I slipped, fell, and got a sprain4
instead. Hobbled out of the store leaning and in pain

But Thursday we had prime tickets for St. Paul Saints5
I couldn’t miss it, so we made it work–no complaints
Next day I laid low with my foot on ice and resting up
Read The Wishing Game and sipped from my tea cup

Friday night was movie night and Coconut Thai6
on T.V. trays, but Saturday morning I was getting by,
so off to the farmers’ market for delicious treats
More shops and then home to cook an autumnal feast7

Ice cream at Sweet Science, homemade muffins with bran
A walk over Stone Arch Bridge8 was part of the plan
Since it will be closed for repairs next time we come
Final meal at Café Alma9 where we savored every crumb

My sweet Katie and Thomas, so full of life, all aglow
They shared their love with us and then sadly we had to go

Poetry Friday – Flying Reverso

Today is Poetry Friday, and our host is Carol Varsalona at Beyond LiteracyLink. She has an invitation for us!

We hiked today around a lake under the flight path
Flights leaving Minneapolis airport

After reading Rose Cappelli’s Reverso poem last week about the love and hate of fall and Patricia Franz’s poem about two opinions of an empty nest, I thought I would give a reverso another try. They shared some good hints by Marilyn Singer. I borrowed phrases from Rose to help make the opposites, like “don’t think” and “I prefer.”

I did cheat with the YES and NO for the last words. I’m going to try this again!

Since we flew to my daughter and son-in-law’s town this week, I thought I’d use flying as my topic. I’m not opinionated either way on what kind of travel I prefer, but I know folks who really are! We are having a grand trip, so I won’t get to be online much this weekend.

Flying

Flying!
This form of travel for me!
Don’t think that I prefer
walking and biking and driving!
That is a no. How about more
flying, not
Anything else! Please!
Flying!!! Yes!

Flying?
Anything else! Please!
Flying! NOT!
That is a no! How about more
Walking and biking and driving!
Don’t think that I prefer
This form of travel for me–
Flying…? No!

Ready to board our Southwest flight to Minneapolis

Slice of Life – My Week in Black and White

Sept. 19, 2023 TwoWritingTeachers.org

I was inspired by Jennifer Floyd’s post last week, “The Colors of My Day,” so I’ve been noticing color. However, today I opted for the beauty of black and white, which I also noticed this week.

My Week in Black and White

Black blanket dances
brilliant lights filling the sky
while Moon waits backstage

first under-blanket
morn of fall; pumpkin spice tea
latte in new mug

 Specialized motor
gives me fresh legs fit to move
through sand, rocks, and time

sitting in love with
feeding birds; this ladderback
comes to sip nectar

Reading in my bed
Prose and poetry good nights
Sweet dreams on the page

On another note:

In March, Sally shared this template that she uses to record her monthly literacy life. I finally tried it for September, but I let it spill back  into the whole summer, since I couldn’t really remember when I finished these books. I’ll need to start listening to some meaningful podcasts and audio books. About that speaking, though, I’m unconvinced.

 

Poetry Friday – Evidence and Morning Glories with Mary Oliver

Today is Poetry Friday, and our host is Rose Cappelli at Imagine the Possibilities. She has a successful first reverso poem to share! 

My husband has been reading Richard Rohr’s Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life. In this book, Keith is finding much truth about his second half of life. Rohr claims: “Poets like Gerard Manley Hopkins, Mary Oliver, David Whyte, Denise Levertov, Naomi Shihab Nye, Rainer Maria Rilke, and T.S. Eliot now name your own inner experience…” My husband jumped right in, especially to Mary Oliver, and he has been devouring her collection Devotions. This morning I woke up to have him right away share the poem “Evidence” with me. Here’s just the very beginning:

Where do I live? If I had no address, as many people do not, I could nevertheless say that I lived in the same town as the lilies of the field, and the still waters.

I couldn’t find the poem “Evidence” online, but it is in the book Evidence and in her Devotions collection.

It’s been very rewarding to read poetry about the second half of life with my love.

Here’s another Mary Oliver poem, and a response poem by me.

Morning Glories

Blue and dark blue
     rose and deepest rose
          white and pink they

are everywhere in the diligent
     cornfield rising and swaying
          in their reliable

finery in the little
     fling of their bodies their
           gear and tackle

Read the rest of her poem here

 

Desert Weeds
A Golden Shovelish Poem after “Morning Glories”
Draft by Denise Krebs

After Hilary came 
     through with four inches of 
          summer rain, weeds

have been popping up
     around here, but
          they are weeds without

a season, short-lived– 
     for the days will grow shorter 
          and cooler, but they add value

to this desert of sand 
     and value to my vision–
          eyefuls of glorious humorous

green to surprise us 
     in the heat of summer 
          bridges of the beautiful

will we ever take the  
     lessons and learn from 
          our friends the weeds 


Striking line is taken from the last two lines of Oliver’s “Morning Glories” poem: “weeds without value humorous / beautiful weeds”

Slice of Life – A Hiking Photo Album

Sept. 12, 2023 TwoWritingTeachers.org
It sounded worse than it was, I think.
So much greenery and water on the trail, which is unusual for late summer in California.
We saw several little waterfalls.
Evidence of boulders blasted to make the trail more passable.
Panorama image from our picnic spot
Epilobium canum (California Fuchsia) – These were such pretty wildflowers dotting the landscape
Tahquitz Rock from where we started our hike
Tahquitz Rock (on the right) from the highest climb of our hike. Do you believe some people climb that face!?

In other news this week…

¡Lo hice! Aprendí español por ocho cien días. Realmente, 803 hoy!

Poetry Friday – The Poetry Marathon Report

Today’s Poetry Friday roundup is happening over at The Poem Farm with Amy Ludwig VanDerwater. “You asked how to write a poem?” Amy has some good advice! Thank you for hosting, Amy.

Last Saturday was The Poetry Marathon. It was a challenge to write 24 poems in 24 hours, but I did it, writing a lot of drivel, especially in the middle of my disrupted sleep.

Below is one of my favorite concoctions, which was based on listening to a music prompt. One of the songs that was suggested was without lyrics and lasted about six minutes. I just typed while I listened to the song; I was also listening to the birds outside my window. Two additional minutes of minor editing, and then I posted it. I want to experiment more with this kind of writing.

Daylight

Daylight beckons me
watching
running
spilling out of darkness
the day begins with
breezes of breath
tears of joy
crags of a life
well-lived
without regrets.
The birds are
playing and
humming their songs
sometimes screeching,
but always authentic.
Oh, to be like a bird
on the wing of this new day.


Inspired by Max Richter’s “On the Nature of Daylight”

Prompt for Hour Eight

I posted all 24 poems and the prompts here at their own post.

Join me next year?

I made it!