Surprise Comes Slowly by David Oates
Grief Symphony by Noor Hindi
Messenger by Mary Oliver
Around Us by Marvin Bell
It’s a Woman’s World by Eavan Boland[1]
Instead of Her Own by Molly Peacock
Nutshell discussion:
Surprise Comes Slowly: The title surprises, as "slowly" is not how we think of surprise... and yet
those signals which indicate something is amiss, such as slow destruction of rain forest, of redwoods, of all that lives on our planet, are often dismissed... and indeed, we are "taken by surprise". Oates provides in the first stanza possible synonyms: surprise as remorse, grief, a feeling of "that which has not been
done."
In 6 quatrains, an unrolling interaction of surprise and redwood... and our place, where we observe, but cannot experience, dropped cones, the rain, mist from the sea integral to a redwood's well-being. Judith was prompted to speak of Ursula Le Guin and her essay on "being a tree". We all spoke of the environment... and for some the "lesson" of interconnection, roots, of another, another and another, laden with time, could apply to the war in Ukraine, unexpected, and yet, the signs have been there, not just in the 20th century, but the century before. Connection is "comforting; promising remembrance yet to come"--
but then the opening line repeats. The disappearance, the absence of connection clear. It isn't only
the forest forgetting itself in generations faster and hotter-- this is humans at work.
There is a cryptic tone in the final stanza. The short drop of one word, comforting (3 syllables) now
inevitable (5 syllables) seem to confirm the worst. Followed by two 3 syllable words: surprising. Nonetheless.
Grief Symphony: This poem by the Palestinian-American poet Noor Hindi, honors Isra Ghrayeb, murdered in an "honor killing". The name Isra, brought up associations with women's groups, night journeys, and the poet's name, associations with Arabic culture in the Middle East. Spare lines interrupted by fenced slashes. Although the discussion did not approach the metaphor of slicing open a cherry, it feels clear it stands for women, the whole woman, in her heart, her sweetness. The appeal to the olive tree, ancient, integral to the Middle East, symbol of peace, survival, who has seen "so much red" contrasts with the horror of the deed.
Messenger: Who is the messenger-- the poet, the love for the world, the world itself? No matter, the message is clear. Shouldn't we all undertake this work of loving the world-- and record it as message to the world, so that is goes on? We all seek sweetness...
What is in this work? Mindfulness... to be aware of the astonishing... the "ingredients" which cause rejoicing, gratitude. The contrast between the "old boots, torn coat" in stanza two and the "body-clothes",
at the end, echoes the state of the clam, at first, buried deep in the sand, and at the end "dug-up" revealed, and revealed to, bringing the message to all living (with shouts of joy): As long as we love, we are part of the circle of life.
Around Us: I was lucky to know Marvin as one of the faculty at Pacific University. In his book, Nightworks: poems 1962-2000 he is praised for his prophetic, candid, voice, his wit and skilled, imaginative leaps.
A delightful portrayal of his personality and humanity with his poem to his wife, often used for weddings and funerals here: https://therumpus.net/2018/03/23/poetry-is-a-manifestation-of-a-life-talking-with-marvin-bell/. About the Dead Man poems: The Dead Man offers searing insight into the joys, as well as the catastrophes, of fluctuating cultural and political moments.
Around us, starts with what we need... with that delightful twist from need to (pine) needles to pad
"the rumble that fills the mind", observing with an almost humorous touch what we all share as humans.
A zipper, a snap of a little sound of thanks... as Maura remarked, feels like bundling up a child before s/he goes outside in winter. Yes... as Oliver puts it, gratitude. In terms of craft, it is fun to compare this poem with "Messenger".
It's a woman's world: Eaven Boland, 1944-2000. Just as with Marvin Bell, it is not fair to judge Eaven Boland by just one poem. When did she write it? Is she not being ironic, when you look at her other work? I love the sounds of her opening stanza... those w's of "Woman's World" whirl into the fact we keep repeating the same old, just like the "wheel, that first whetted a knife"...
The use of nouns as verbs is highly effective: we milestone our lives (funny, the computer wanted to change that to we millstone our lives). The w's of washing power, wrapped, wash left wet... the what's of what we forget and will never be. Judith commented on the power of "it". It, such a small, 2-letter word that refers to the immensity of all it contains. It's all the same... Is this the same "It" as the one in the title?
Perhaps the negative and narrow view of a woman's world, in the title, and the final gristing bread, getting recipes for good soup, is commentary on our small role as history goes on, without us on the scene.
Interesting that "seeing" and "scene" are homonyms. Did we see how the king's head GORED its basket?
What a curious and powerful image... Does each head have a basket, and what causes the goring?
This poem wheels and whets plenty of questions!
Instead of her own: The gesture of a grandmother washing her granddaughter's hair, ideally, would invoke a tender, loving act, selfless, in the sense of tending first to the granddaughter, instead of herself.
The repeated "cold" will convince you otherwise. Why was the grandmother not taking care of her own hair? And how was she doing this washing? It certainly seemed to be far from a pleasurable experience. It evoked some bad memories for Judith. Is moist mouse straw just referring to color, or a more complex metaphor for hair on a girl's head? What substitution is the grandmother making, forming, knuckling?
Unsettling and enigmatic.
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