Poems for Oct. 29

 Library of Congress by Arthur Sze; Like Apple from Seed  by Molly Johnsen; Sabbath XII by Wendell Berry;  Under the Harvest Moon  by Carl Sandburg 1878 –1967; Eyes Fastened with Pins  by Charles Simic; From the Sky by Sara Abou Rashed (After Lorca: his poem: Farewell); What We Might Be, What We Are by X. J. Kennedy

I started with a few preliminaries:  

1. I do encourage people to visit Rundel Library to see the amazing exhibit of the "Art of The Book".https://www.cityofrochester.gov/locations/central-librarys-anthony-mascioli-gallery-art-book-paper-exhibit

2. I mentioned  "Hugs from Maine" https://ralstongallery.com/  Scroll down and you can subscribe.  I cited Hieroglypic Stairway by Drew Dellinger. Listen to him read it here.  Excerpt to mull over: it’s 3:23 in the morning/and I can’t sleep/because my great great grandchildren/ask me in dreams/what did you do while the earth was unravelling?

3. I read this poem: I do not mention the war in my birthplace to my 6 year old son but somehow he knows https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/158390/i-do-not-mention-the-war-in-my-birthplace-to-my-six-year-old-son-but-somehow-his-body-knows

Nutshell:

Library of Congress: 3 different people recommended this poem to me as soon as it was published in the New Yorker.  The title asks that each word be examined:  Library. Congress.  Library as a place, yes, as a in "books"... but as Wade pointed out in the 3rd line, a million books breathe... shelves holding knowledge compiled, divined for us in turn to divine.  Bernie pointed out the double meaning of adjective and verb.

Neil reiterated his feeling about seeing the poet, and himself, standing outside of oneself, looking into the depths of the enormous variety of things recorded, and how Sze captures the enormous diversity humans enjoy on this planet.  Times change, and so do ways of cataloguing, reading, but regardless, a library is a haven, a place open to all, where delving into books, one delves into conversations with cultures and time periods and self-discoveries.

Sze mentions curators three times; I gave footnotes about the reference to the Neruda poem; the Chinese, the Vai script, Farsi, and Carolyn responded to the importance of calligraphy, and kufic script;  how the hand is part of the craft of transmitting language and meaning dancing on the page.  Sze brings in the senses -- a song, a scent, the marlin blue depth, the mulberry paper.  Ending with the image of "no pear-blossom end" to what's within reach blooms with life and hope.

Like Apple from Seed:  We noted the enjambments, and many identified with seeing the moon caught in trees, and think we could free it.  As the curator of the poem says, "Stories themselves are like seeds in our lives; so much can grow from them. There is so much potential waiting inside.".

Sabbath XII by Wendell Berry.  My question is how a poem escapes becoming a sermon.  It is great to share the details:  the 3 "ifs", the crafting of the 3rd stanza, "we will suffer alone, we will suffer/

alone".  The message of compassion evokes the message that "if we do not hang together, we will hang separately." 

 

Under the Harvest Moon  by Carl Sandburg :  sounds, the juxtaposition of the two stanzas with death and love.  How to understand the word, "Mocker"?  The lyricism carries us to feeling wrapped with Love and beautiful, unanswerable questions. Eddy brought up the tradition of the Chinese Harvest moon.  

Eyes Fastened: We enjoyed the unusual perspective of the personification of Death!

Sky Burial:  Each sense is evoked in the sandwiched tercets... Imagine sky as free from "boundaries" -- but perhaps that too will be carved ... Thanks to Eddy, the nod to Lorca refers to his poem "Farewell"

If I die,
Leave the balcony open.

The boy is eating oranges.
(From my balcony I hear him.)

The reaper scythes the wheat.
(From my balcony I feel it.)

If I die,
Leave the balcony open!

   We ended with XJ Kennedy's delightful comic relief.  How did he come up with that Balinese Goat?

Good to be able to laugh at ourselves!!!!

addendum about Erasure poems

 On Oct. 17, 2019:

Correction on my entry which speaks about the Erasure Poem Declaration  by Tracy K. Smith, 

I had also used it in the workshop on poetry for peace.
The discussion at Rundel  brought up many words of wisdom about our Declaration of Independence.
"nothing's changed except the numbers" --  referring to who is in power and who oppressed....
The poem leaves space to complete the unspoken... plundered our...  ravaged our... destroyed the lives of our...
taking away out*, our...  abolishing our most valuable...  altering the Forms of our...**

We discussed industrialized slavery, the necessity of admitting flaws... the difference in attitude between
MLK and Malcolm X, / WE duBois and Brooker T Washington... 

*typo... should read out.  I think I was thinking simultaneously taking out... taking away...

** I added 3 points of suspension after our: the point is this: I have left out (erased) nouns after "our".  What noun(s)  do you want to put after "our"? 

Poems for Oct. 22

 Stopping along the Way by David Wagoner; The War in the Air by Howard Nemerov;  Laundry by George Bilgere; For Robert Frost, in the Autumn in Vermont by Howard Nemerov; Life  by Eric Rounds; 2008, XII  by Wendell Berry

I opened with 3 quotes from the September issue of The Sun:  If we could have new knowledge, we must get us a whole world of new questions. -- Susanne K. Langer; The saddest aspect of life right now is that science gathers knowledge faster than society gathers wisdom. -- Isaac Asimov;  Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known. -- Sharon Bagley

Nutshell:

Stopping along the Way:  We read this sentence by sentence, which helped accentuate the humorous run-ons which stretch over 9 lines, 17 lines and 15 lines after the first one and the rather abrupt two referring to a car honking.  Indeed, there was a lot of chuckling by the third lengthy passage describing the 'possum's response to two cars honking.  Axel brought up the bonding characteristic of shared laughter, often ignored when describing beneficial effects.  She also brought up the fact that a 'possum might seem not to care, or seem to choose to play dead.  Actually, it is not in control of the reaction, and it is its body shutting down.  As Graeme put it, "automation, not agency". How beautifully this mimics the opening, with the car's brakes making it stop "almost on its own."   We all appreciated the segue from honking cars, to the geese, with another gentle poke at our human tendency to consider ourselves important.  The "very young possum"  and its "personal intersection of human cross-purposes" later is described as comparing the sound of the car to "some distant sound/ somewhere deep, far back/ in his old, new mind".   Something "old" as in some wiring from archaic DNA perhaps.  

Not only does Wagoner treat us to a delightful account of a brief moment which paints a vivid visual painting,  but also provides wonderful sounds and rhythms.  Stopping ... along the way, as title, could be a title of a sermon or advice column.

War in the Air: The title perhaps plays on the fact that human history would confirm war is as common event as breathing air, and always seems suspended above our heads.  He adds a bitter irony with the justificatory adjectives of "clean",  "good" which one sometimes hears applied to the second world war.  Judith provided us with a description of being a bombadier which confirms the bloody messiness of war.  The motto of the Royal airforce:  Per ardua, per aspera: through hardship to the stars.   Nemerov was a pilot in WW2 and knows first hand.  His clever manipulation of clichés adds a bite to the irony introduced in the first stanza.  The use of "incompressible" to describe hitting the sea, the play of "shades" as both drawing an image but also souls of the dead, leads to a reiteration of the invisibility of the dead -- "as if there was no death, for goodness's sake".  The final line hangs like an unhinged door.  

Laundry:  Many things in daily life provide metaphors for unspoken hardship.  Many brought up memories of hanging up laundry -- and clothespins, both the old-fashioned ones and those with the hinged spring so a pin could pinch...  Bilgère uses "black/and white" deftly to define the action of blouses and shirts flapping in the wind and "immaculate" light.  Axel saw a parallel of the speaker of the poem (as a boy) and the 'possum poem as sharing a "dire situation".  Eddy admired the use of present tense applied to the past, present, and implied continuation in the future of this snapshot.  Marna was pleased that the sound of the poem, the feel of it in the mouth was as important as the visuals.  We all could relate to the hard work, the joyful feel, like laughter, and sensitive to the repeated struggling applied to laundry and  marriage.   The line breaks in the second stanza add to the sense of fragment which ends with the effective shrinking of space between her-but  and continues with initial capitals to the final period.     There is an unpinning of how we turn a snapshot of a moment,  to the creation of photograph,  left with a deeper understanding that confirms a foreboding  but also a choice to return to a joyous dance of blouses and shirts.

For Robert Frost: The question came up if Robert Frost knew this poem.  The answer is no.  He died in 1963 and Nemerov wrote it afterwards, inspired by their friendship with him Frost's views on poetry.  A beautiful sonnet with an unusual "painting" of Autumn and foreboding of death.  The key word is "reverse" like a weaving.  Just as the Chinese say, translation is like fine brocade, but to fully understand, one must look at the "tangle" of the underside hidden under the perfect façade.  Some have said that the Resurrection is the beautiful side of the tapestry, the crucifixion the reverse.  Does the tone match the content?  I wonder if Nemerov is not sharing Frost's disdain for "leaf peepers" coming up from the cities to Vermont in the Fall.  The p's of puzzled pilgrim, epiphanies.  We weren't sure how to understand, "the price on "maidenhead if brought in dead" aside from a critique of Puritanical times.  The oxymoron of "cold and fiery" repeats the "brilliant/dies; dying/realms of fire juxtapositions.  We all agreed it is a stunning poem about autumn, but also a lovely elegy.  

Life: The technique of erasure can be highly effective.  Here, a selection from Mark Twain's Life on the Mississippi recreates for us a beautifully poetic version of the Mississippi which before "management" was a difficult river to navigate.  Judith pointed out Twain made his living as a jokester, and hid his feelings about society but also his poetic intentions captured in his mastery of tone.  

2008, XII:  Wendell Erdman Berry is an American novelist, poet, essayist, environmental activist, cultural critic, and farmer. Closely identified with rural Kentucky, Berry developed many of his agrarian themes in the early essays of The Gift of Good Land and The Unsettling of America.   Kathy pointed out his consistent message, always thoughtfully crafted.  In 1973, 40 years prior to the New Sabbath Poems, he wrote Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front, a more forceful delivery. https://cales.arizona.edu/~steidl/Liberation.html  He has  written a series of "Sabbath Poems" starting with a line from the Bible, but this #12, even  though a variation on a different Sabbath Poem #12,  confirms the ability of a good writer to continue to explore an important theme.  Judith summed it up: "You're weighed in the balance and found wanting."(Daniel 5:27)

  

Poems for October 15

 The Metier of Blossoming by Denise Levertov; Summer’s Elegy  by Howard Nemerov; Morning Song  by Sylvia Plath 1932 –1963;  My Daughter Explains the New World  by Abby Murray;  Love:  a human condition by Nikki Giovanni; The Table Remains Jason Gabari; Poem Without a Title  by Charles Simic

Nutshell:

The title using The Métier as opposed to the English, "Professional Trade", gives a certain distinction and personification of "Blossoming" as part of the definition of being human.  We noted  gravid buds, an unusual adjective for buds which lends a sense of gravity to the fullness.  If you have ever watched the slow rise of an Amaryllis stem and development of its large blooms, the first stanza indeed captures  an accurate description!  The comparison of the flower's growth to marks on a barn door labeling the progress of a child's height adds a human touch of pride.  There's a certain cleverness of line breaks which lends a playful tone.  The second stanza plunges the reader into a present moment.  The lines are breathless with expectancy. We puzzled at her choice of Juno, Roman goddess of marriage, families and childbirth.  It seems contradictory to call her a "maiden" giantess.  Her enumeration of the ideals of blossoming (whole, undistracted, unhurried) falls on three lines.  The line break after sheer /unswerving captures the odd choice of "swift" with a sheer "drop" that swerves to "unswerving".   We cannot be perfect -- but what an inspiring wish to "blossom out of ourselves", withholding nothing in such a way!  

It reminded Jonathan of Roethke's poem,  Root Cellar. https://allpoetry.com/Root-Cellar 

Summer Elegy: We marveled at the subtlety of the rhyme scheme, the pleasure of the sounds of internal rhyme and aliterations.  The form sustains the meaning and vivid descriptions of nature in Autumn.  I loved that one person commented how the poem provided reassurance about the inevitable end we all face, and made it seem "OK".  Another remarked there seemed to be a turn on the 14th line.  Although not a double sonnet, one could think of the next 10 lines providing echo, where the reader is invited in to consider his/her own "unripe" place, joining in the final "cut", the terminal sound /of apples dropping on dry ground.  Judith mentioned the poem has a distinct flavor of Keats, and how in a different Nemerov poem, it was not apples dropping, but acorns.  

Morning Song:  We agreed that this was a different aspect of Plath's poetry which points to her talent.  More than a poem about a mother attending and observing her baby, one senses an edgy foreboding.  "Your nakedness/shadows our safety"... "I am no more your mother/than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow/effacement at the wind's hand."  We noted the shift of metaphors in the last two stanzas.  The lightness of the daughter's rising voice, wins out over the cow-heavy mother as final line.

My Daughter Explains: Abby Murray blends the idealistic young 11 year old with overtones of the adult responding, so we feel privy to a overhearing an exchange we would not be aware of.  Why not imagine a new world.  Sure, feminist, but translation available as a gift for men.  And those lions, not as symbols of empires, strength of kings, but the actual New York Public Library Lions now the librarians, and in charge.  We discussed the final stanza, how we say "rest in peace" as a final word.  It takes an 11 year old to put a spin on peace as metaphor for death. 

Love: a human condition: Quirky, profound.  We all were glad for the inventive slant on a subject that seems like nothing more could add to the copious works about love through the centuries! Do we love, because that's the only true adventure?  Perhaps the only way get "out of ourselves"?  The final two lines leave the reader to wonder about narcissism and its perpetration

The Table Remains:    Do look at the artwork, as this is an ekphrastic poem.  From the personification of a table to the stage it provides for objects as actors.  Why do people go to fortune tellers?  As a still life, the frozen objects provide more layers to the pun of "remains" in the title.  Judith provided a re-enactment of the ballet, "The Green Table" by by Kurt Jooss. This link gives you a commentary about the choreography: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N4U2UecJ9oE This link shows you Part 1 (17 min.) : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=un5kYC8jpUk This link gives you a 7 min. "extract" https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=401828120270738

Poem without a Title:  We discussed this curious title.  In the spirit of the poem before, one could think of a poem with no "Title" -- no role as Nobleman, or entitlement.  Simic, grappling with the horrors of war, and postwar returns to the conundrum of how to hang on to hope, when, desperate for answer for a way to restore peace, justice, dignity, all that a war, and dictatorships strip away.  Nobody answers. This short poem is  chillingly powerful.  

---

[1] The poem was written for  Rattle's Ekphrastic Challenge, June 2025, using this image: “The Cartomancer’s Table” by Gerald Traicoff. “  https://rattle.com/the-table-remains-by-jason-gabari/   Selected as the Editor’s Choice.

Pictures sent to group Aug-sept, 2025

No  pictures for Aug. 20 or 27

Sent with poems for Sept. 3 

I am writing just after sunrise looking out at three magnificent mountain peaks in Altaussee, known as "a treasure of a place" in the Salzkammergut area of Austria.  Two photos from yesterday morning capture part of the magic of the region

Sent with poems for 9/10: So... yesterday, we spent about 5 hours in the Vienna Kunsthistorische Museum, built in 1891 in a lavish Rococo style!  The museum coffeeshop allows you to have a verlänger kaffee mit apfel strudel  gazing out at tall polished marbel columns, sweeping staircases and frescoed ceilings that rival the height of cathedrals!

We caught a glimpse of a bride and groom and their photographer before the crowds began!

sent with poems for 9/17: Greetings from Bled, (in Slovenia)-- yesterday it was raining cats and dogs (we say in French, "il pleut à verses" -- and I joke, "qu'il pleuve des poèmes!" (let it rain poems!)-

an excuse to rewrite the  19th century Slovenian poem extolling  the lake of Bled with its island and magical church,  legend of the wish-granting bell inspired by the usual picturebook image.

sent with Poems for Sept. 24: Today's  hike!  (9/17) (close to the final scramble to the summit of this mountain nicknamed Matterhorn of Bovec!)  Spectacular views of the Julian alps in this part of Slovenia on the border of Italy and Austria.  A Peace trail runs through this area, proud to proclaim NO BORDERLINES are here

Sent with poems for Oct. 1

Sent with poems for Oct. 8

(Not really chosen to illustrate the lines in Heaney's poem Oysters... about crossing the Alps.  We already miss these beautiful mountains deeply...)

But who can argue about winding streets echoing centuries of stories?

I hope this message finds everyone well.  Again, I thank all the generous souls who accepted to moderate discussions, and contribute ideas for poems.  I miss our weekly give and take where we practice attentive listening and sharpen curiosity

Sent with poems for Oct. 13:I'll be back to moderate poems for Wed. Oct. 13. Once again, thank you to all for "covering"!  It is hard to know what picture to send... Perhaps these two can work together for a metaphor?

(view of the Douro)
Chryselephantine (gold and ivory) figurines -- "Spinning Top" (from the exhibit, "Dancers" at  Museum of Art Nouveau in Salamanca)

O pen will meet as usual at noon on wednesday, which is 10/15.

This allows me to sneak in one more picture.  yes... ready to sail home TODAY.  Ice Cream  stand!Sometimes, traveling does rather flip you upside down!  (Fun statue of laughing men as one tumbles off the bleachers in a Porto park near Clerigo. 

 

 

9/11

 Sent with line up Jim will moderate:

Of course, Armistice Day is Nov. 11 -- this year is 24th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks.   Headlines everywhere read violence, violence, violence, another school shooting and the assassination of Charlie Kirk, right wing conservative yesterday. 

On this Armistice Day, I send you greetings from Slovenia, where we see more reminders of the disastrous effect of war and violence, whether monuments, or a crucifix deep in the mountains near where a partisan hospital was located.  I was struck by this poem by Danez Smith -- it's long, but filled with important lines.

A thank you to all for keeping O Pen a lively place for compassionate, respectful discussion!  Thank you Jim for moderating this week's poems!

and...

Greetings from Bled, (in Slovenia)-- yesterday it was raining cats and dogs (we say in French, "il pleut à verses" -- and I joke, "qu'il pleuve des poèmes!" (let it rain poems!)-

an excuse to rewrite the  19th century Slovenian poem extolling  the lake of Bled with its island and magical church,  legend of the wish-granting bell inspired by the usual picturebook image...

 

Here's a photo of the castle last night -- the rain stopped and no, the castle is not on fire -- just illuminated!!!    

 

The Lake  by Oton Župančič[1]

 

All day's hours that rush across the sky 

Are reflected in this water's eye, 

It's where every sunrise dips its tail, 

It's where every star inscribes its trail.

 

Whatever's true one in the lake can see:

The mountain, island, church spire, and the tree, 

Clouds and birds, the fugitives of height, 

Find in its depths a mirrored sight.

 

And the lake plays with the flash of light, 

Shifting glints and shadows; to one's sight 

An everlasting wonder; gazing there,

The magic of its dreams with it we share .. 

Responding to Oton Zupancic, The Lake[2]

 

You can barely see the church spire on the island, 

bathed as it is in blankets of silvery mist

and much as the lake would mirror a strand

of light from daybreak or starlit, or wish

 

for the bell legend to be true, the only bird

is a family of ducks, paddling in a line to shore.

The rain puddles on cobblestones; what word

would you chose for what you fear is in store?

 

Oh, I'm not talking about fairy tale castles,

church spires, not even a Slavic goddess,[3]  

when will people learn words are but tassles

and as propaganda, become unbreathable bodice? 

---

[1] Oton Župančič (1878–1949) was a dramatist, essayist and translator, yet his main vocation, as reflected by his personality traits and body of work, was that of a poet-- and painter... https://mgml.si/en/city-museum/exhibitions/623/oton-zupancic-drawings/

[2] written in 1912 

[3] myth has it Slovenes would search for the temple of Slavic goddess Živa and the shadow of her priestess, the beautiful Bogomila hiding in the harmonious contours of the island church!

discussion points from 8/27

 Bernie nicely summarized:

Some discussion points:

El Miedo- People enjoyed the poem a lot, both the deeper aspects and the irony/humor. It brought discussion about how much we know about the poet and their biography makes a difference - or should make a difference - in how we view the poem itself. 

I also shared this quote by Mahatma Gandhi that Neruda's last line reminded me of: 

”I have only 3 enemies. My favourite enemy, the one most easily influenced for the better, is the British Empire. My second enemy, the Indian people, is far more difficult. But my most formidable opponent is a man named Mohandas K. Gandhi. With him I seem to have very little influence."

 Lindley's In Our Blindness, Chalked Up To Just Be Fate - got mixed reviews, some liked it, some not so much. Paul mentioned that these chained sonnets are not so unusual in Ireland.  He also thought that it echoed John Milton's Sonnet 19, "When I consider how my life is spent", also often titled or referred to as "On His Blindness".  When I mentioned that I did not like the poem so much, Graeme asked me to explain why, which was a really useful question, leading us to consider why we like or don't like something we read or see. (BTW-my reaction was mostly aversion to the fierce violence depicted, not so much to the poem as poem).

Pretty general appreciation of George Ovitt's "Why I Like Marriage", which prompted discussions, home, marriage, long-term relationships, aging, and loss.  Marna also appreciated the poets comment about how he collects scraps of ideas and images and then lets them "magically" come together into a poem.

2 Poems by U Tak, the 14th century Neo–Confucianist and poet.  Eddy commented on the creative imagery on aging.

Carrying Paul - Ted Kooser - We  appreciated the vivid images of the actual carrying, what Elmer called its "nautical" theme. It also evoked recollections of funerals  among our members. We discussed whether it needed to be a poem or worked just as well as prose, but agreed that the last section, highlighting the "weight" of Paul's family and the image of water, turned it to the poetic. 

Merwin's Note  His sometimes abstract images and ambiguity made it unclear if language and freedom could coexist, whether one was better than the other, and how to balance them in experiencing our lives.

And finally , Lux's Poem in Thanks  and Appleman's Prayers for Pagans".  Better to just read them than discuss them!