Poems in September - Nutshell 9/30

Nutshell for Sept. 30 Horse Song: You can listen to it here , but everyone enjoyed Graeme's terrific reading which captured the intensity of the nightmare with the acceleration of rhythm as the poem went on. We discussed how at first the repetitions in 3's seemed as if it would be off-putting, but how surprising it was that it wasn't. Like a drum beat, or horse hooves galloping, it drove the poem. As a Native American, Harjo produces the echoes akin to the Navaho Prayer: In beauty I walk With beauty behind me, I walk With beauty above me, I walk With beauty around me, I walk It has become beauty again. The repetition in Horse Song invites participation. Certainly, the nightmare is the breaking of our earth. The resulting sorrow would of course feel inevitable and the repetition gives it more weight. The uncontrollable pace of the nightmare returning is transformed by the surprising last line: From the beginning statement, "it is raining, the sky is falling" the poem ends with the clouds leaning down over the mountains to sing. The song will carry us through the bad dream. Patience of Ordinary Things: A wonderful poem inviting us to pause to rethink the relationship of things. I enjoyed punning with the "soles of feet" as if with a "soul that guides them" although the poet doesn't go that route per se, but embraces the larger question... just where are we going? She leads us to the unhurried, but constant patience of love. Many immediately thought of Van Gogh's masterpieces which pay attention to a chair or boots. One person came up with the adjective "unbothered" for the tone: no hurries, no worries. The final line picks up on the adverbs, "respectfully" (clothes in closets), "quietly" (soap drying) and "the adjective "lovely" for the repetition of stairs to ask what is more generous than a window. What a magical association! The etymology of window comes from the Norse -- The "Wind's Eye" -- as opposed to fenêtre, or Fenster which means "opening". Both, invite a different framework of seeing. That the poem concludes with a question, to consider a window as generous, invites us to consider the benevolence of generosity. Just Kidding: This poem feels an unlikely style one associates with Rita Dove. The discussion included examination of he ingredients of drinks as well as puns such as the "punch" line -- but just where is it? What is the point? The title underlines a classic passive-agressive defense.... Oh... "just kidding... nothing serious here really..." —except perhaps the judicial implications of a bar, gag orders, some surreal ingredients that make an old fashioned more palatable than a bitter complex of a Negroni or a Moscow Mule served to an Irishman heavy on the ginger beer. Indeed, as in the 4th stanza, whoever is gathering, isn't speaking, is not acquainted with the other and all are desperate, needing something "stronger than what's out there". An Apricot with Hikmet: For next week, I selected one poem from each of the poets mentioned, except Bashō. We agreed that there is power in using different foods as metaphor: Hirschfield's recipe: wild honey, last-year rice, a fish caught by an innocent boy and the share of an apricot with the iconoclastic Turkish poet Hikmet in the title. Her Buddhist training shows up in the 7th stanza, mixing the possible ingredients of a salad "some have eaten and lived through"; "In it what others have not". There is an increasing alarm in the remaining 4 stanzas in the staccato delivery of fragments of lines which lead to a similar division —as final line regarding "an unimaginable future for which to feel hopeful or frightened." Are those the only choices? Perhaps this is an invitation to examine how we really feel about what we cannot know. In her note, Hirschfield explains she is addressing her awareness of catastrophe and how she wondered how other past poets dealt with such. Even if you do not know the names by seeing her calling on them, allows a certain reassurance as one tries to understand the current world (that apricot, divided into half a planet). Perhaps you have other names on which you might call who also have lived through earlier times of catastrophe, to imagine how they might respond to the perplexity of living in today's world. . Your Laughter: I find great reassurance from 13th century Sufi wisdom that Rumi imparts. Unlike Hirschfield who seems to be writing for herself, to better understand the world, Rumi is writing to all of us. Judith was reminded of the line by Beatrice from As you like it, "A star danced and I was born" -- in reference to the suffering of her mother giving her birth. Laughter is indeed a great remedy! Joy brought up laugh therapy. Laughter has a connection to feeling a moment as alive. What qualities increase the power of the soul, one's innate being? We wondered at the translation in the 4th stanza of "rookies" -- which seems out of place. Perhaps the original used " Tazeh-kar (تازه کار): This phrase translates literally to "fresh worker" or someone new to a job or skill (novice/amateur)".