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Friday, August 21, 2026

August 19+ 21

 Food by Brenda Hillman;  Elegy  by W.S. Merwin; One stanza ghazal  (untitled) by Agha Shahid Ali; Poem by Langston Hughes; A Bowl of Fruit by Stephen Dunn; The Traveling Onion  by Naomi Shihab Nye


Nutshell:  What feeds us?  These poems consider the commonality of food and how we deal with life, knowing there will be an end.  What I love about putting them together, is the variety that is served: 

One long collage of a poem which could be a short story focussing on mothers, on where and how daughters and mothers are eating, painted like a Breughel scene with multiple personalities at play; 3 short poems: a one liner called Elegy; a one stanza ghazal and a short two stanza poem; a poem like a still-life composing a bowl of fruit with concealed messages; a multi-layered poem triggered by an onion. 

The discussion was rich and lively, and I wish the poets could have heard the interactions with their words!

As for the short poems, I am reminded of June Jordan, "These poems" (1977) - things she does in the dark/reaching for you/whoever you are/and/are you ready?  where words are stones in the water/ running away.  where skeletal lines/ are desperate arms for my longing and love. As poet, she is a stranger/learning to worship/the strangers around her--  whoever you are/whoever you become. 

How is it that desire or concern for connection can be expressed in so many ways?  I like that some of the group reading, are inspired to transform what is read to their own idea in the spirit of respectful conversation.  For instance, why not write a haiku for Merwin's one-line "Elegy"?  He provides the 7 syllable line.  What 5 syllable line might you put before and/or after?

Or, for the Stephen Dunn poem, to switch the final sentence to read: But surely by now you've come to realize/there is no word, only this bowl of fruit/made out of worms...

I was glad some looked up the background of the poets.  Brenda Hillman is highly experimental. Praising Hillman’s deft handling of form and subject, poet, and critic  Marjorie Welish wrote, “Each poem … creates its own experimental configuration, within which the phrase swerves and discombobulates sense, as several registers of subject complicate the sampling of experiences and also as the experimental format throws the lyric into symbolic disarray one moment and naturalist scrutiny the next. And even more: she writes as if the lyric poem had a political calling.”


Now to examine each poem:

Food:  We all eat -- and the poem paints a Breugel-esque portrait you might forget is in the setting, (given in the first line) of a fast food place because of the variety of mommies, children, with a sprinkling of Russians, a nostalgic leap into what seems to be a different kind of restaurant.  It ends with the daughter eating a fast food burger, and a mother's recall of her eating at home over "the mantra of the refrigerator" (which says to feed her) and what her daughter sees in a parallel mother and son.  Even if you don't know Oakland or Marin County, MacDonalds is ubiquitous, established in 1940 in San Bernadino, and almost 90 years later, is a worldwide experience in which to watch people.

There are many lovely poetic gestures which layer multiple meanings-- like the bands of black seared onto meat "like the memory of a cage"; or the CCCC slices in "an oil of forceful herbs".  Observations, labeling someone "Mr. Egotistical Sublime" or noting a girl's face "stood for something/and from it, a little mindless daylight was reflected."  We wondered about  the tall boy and mother-- which one of them was "repressed rage/in espadrilles, if he is carrying a tray for her, and she is saying "Oh this is fun" ?

595 words in 88 lines, as if playing possibilities on a piano.  We agreed, that although it reads like a short story, it is a poem with delightfully weird structure.

Elegy: Positioned as a one-liner next to the first two pages, this zen-like Elegy, was like a brush of "negative capability", Keats' term for accepting  uncertainty, mystery, and doubt without impatiently searching for absolute facts or logical reasons.  

If it had not been written by Merwin, would we have paid attention to it?   We spoke at length about loss, how the one line brings losses home.   Changing on emphasis on the words, e.g. WHO would I show it to (everyone's dead, so what's the point) or Who would I SHOW it to (the choice of showing, vs. keeping it quietly silent to oneself)  increases the multiple layers and emotional impact.  Why the need to write an elegy?  For whom?  Oneself, the person gone, for all those who you wished had known this person the way you did?  There is perhaps a larger sense of loneliness, and grief.   

See: Every waking minute of each day is its own elegy: https://ordinaryplots.substack.com/p/ws-merwins-elegy I gave the link in the footnote on p. 3 of the poems.  Perhaps Merwin is questioning the purpose of poetry.  How can I return the love that a loss has left me thinking of?  What good is a poem if I can't.  Kelly quotes Merwin: "Poetry conveys both the great possibility and the thing we can't do."

Next week we will read Merwin's “For the Anniversary of My Death”.  To summarize Dan Chiasson's article about it:  The poem addresses the problem of being outlived. “Elegy,” Merwin’s great single-line poem—not the greatest short poem, but perhaps the shortest great poem, ever written—is about the converse problem, that of outliving.

One stanza Ghazal:  I'm not sure what the title is.  Again, the problem of connection... who are we? what matters in living?  What is it that explains our existence? 

Poem:  Langston Hughes opens and closes the poem with the same words, which skillfully embue the power of the context and placement of words.  As Mary put it, "this poem rejuvenates my heart".  We searched to find out who "F.S." was -- apparently a political activist Langston met in Harlem. 

 A Bowl of Fruit: The poem by Stephen Dunn is the first in his book Local Visitations and well-described in this delightful article about his poetry: https://blackbird-archive.vcu.edu/v2n2/features/smith_r_111403/dunn_s.htm

Billy Collins says this about his cleverness and craft: "The art lies in hiding the art, Horace tells us, and Stephen Dunn has proven himself a master of concealment. His honesty would not be so forceful were it not for his discrete formality; his poems would not be so strikingly naked were they not so carefully dressed."

Jeanne Andree was a colleague of Dunn at Stockton University.  This playful extended metaphor employs word play using still-life vocabulary and noun/verb stacking.  As one person put it, Jeanne is interested in the specifics of trees, whereas Stephen shows how to see the bigger picture of the forest.  


The Traveling Onion: We enjoyed sharing onion stories... but also noted the repeat of "small and forgotten" in line 3 and 12".  If you ask Aristotle, Nietszche or AI, "What difference does an onion, or a person, or any living thing make?" you can explore the idea of living things giving purpose and order to chaos.  See below what AI provides.  Poets don't need AI, but do draw on thinkers, and myths, and even "The Better Living Cookbook", which may even have been an invented detail.  The part about the onion being a solemn item of worship, apparently can be corroborated by the custom of laying a hand on an onion when taking an oath.

We enjoyed the detailed description from crackly paper peeling, to the post-simmered translucence, rather like rings of a tree, revealing history.  Yes, tears fall/for something small and forgotten... especially when sacrificed for the sake of others.   

The addition of "traveling" in the title adds the sense of metamorphosis, exchange, and perhaps also, survival.  


AI Summary of why something living matters. 

The Science of Life
  • Fighting chaos: The universe wants things to mix and spread out. Life pulls energy in to stay whole.
  • A rare spark: Matter usually forms rocks and dust. Life is rare matter that wakes up and notices itself.
The Value of an Onion
  • Simple survival: An onion does not think or weep from sadness. It just grows, feeds itself, and protects its core.
  • Part of a web: It takes food from the soil. It feeds other animals or humans. It matters because it is one link in a large chain.
The Value of a Person
  • Self-awareness: A person knows they are alive. They feel pain, joy, and love.
  • Creating meaning: People ask big questions. They build art, write rules, and care for others. We give the universe a voice and a heart.
Why It All Matters
  • No grand boss: No one wrote a rulebook saying life must exist.
  • Self-made value: Because life is rare and fragile, it holds its own value. When you care for an onion or a person, you push back against the dark and create a reason to care.





Thursday, July 23, 2026

poems for when I'm away July 15, 22, 29, Aug. 5, 12

Pictures sent:

For 7/22: sculpture called "Rubato" in front of Malmö Live (music hall complex) -- one is allowed to climb in it... 


For 7/29

IMG_3242.jpeg

Too many pictures of marvels to know which to be able to share... so a glimpse of a rainbow will have to do.  Here in the Faroes, natives think nothing of the constant shift from blustery wind, pelting rain to a a blue sky and sun shining on a waterfall dance.  We saw many "rainbow opportunities" but yesterday was the first real one

for Aug. 12 -- a picture of the Quiraing

We are about to leave the magic of the Scottish Highlands, and now starts the friends and family part of the trip. I will look forward to seeing you on Aug. 19 and 21 (Polly says: just noticed the bird in the distance! The great and the small. That got me!)

For Aug. 19

picture of modern market and St. Nicolas Church in Ghent!

 July 15 A Dream of the Future by Joyce Sutphen; Please Don’t  by Tony Hoagland; Wake Up by Adam Zagajewski; In Bed With A Book by Mona Van Duyn; Poem to Watch over You by Omotara Jamesm;

The House With Nobody In It by Alfred Joyce Kilmer;


July 22 (poems on beauty)

Poems are not going to dramatically change your life.  Do not approach them as if they do.

Poems ask you to pay attention — that's all.  A poem cannot be paraphrased.  In fact, a

poem's greatest potential lies in the opposite of paraphrase: ambiguity.

Life is Beautiful, by Dorianne Laux; No Images by Waring Cuney; Scarf  by Rita Dove; Quilt by Nikki Giovanni; The Word  by Tony Hoagland;  Retired by Faith Shearin


Judith's take: That first one was a lulu after one got through the sly presentation of it as just a mass of sentences squished together.  And like so much poetry it made a much greater impression when read aloud.  The other poem which was SO impressive was the No Images—especially when we heard it sung by Nina Simone—o my o my o my.  The only thing I can compare it to was Kathleen Ferrier singing Ben Jonson’s “Have You Seen But the White Lily Blow.”  And what warmed the cockles (and muscles) of my heart was Simone’s gorgeous pronunciation!  No mumble and she pronounced her “t” which nobody in America does anymore—just as I cringe when I hear “bewdy” for “beauty”…

 

So the Rita Dove poem presented after just could not hold its place—because ANYTHING would have been a let down after that prior experience.  We liked it very much but it had to suffer in that lineup.  Quilts was much appreciated also.  Neil spoke of having all his late wife’s slogan T shirts laid out like a quilt, which went over well as he was wearing a Gorey sweatshirt about books…Kathy thought that the kings and queens in the penultimate stanza sort of did not fit the poem’s style—I agreed with her.  Lots of people liked the lines about the coffee grinder and the spare tire.

 

It was a rousing session! 


July 29

This selection in the Year of the Horse, (2026)   is from Poem-a-Day selections 10 years ago.

Galway Races by W. B. Yeats 1865 –1939; Tender Buttons [Nothing Elegant] by Gertrude Stein; Letters by Ralph Waldo Emerson; Electrons by Ruth Madievsky; Any Common Desolation  by Ellen Bass;

Accepting Heaven at Great Basin by Nathalie Handal; Eros by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Jack-in-the-Pulpit by Kimiko Hahn (side by side w/ poem that inspired it) Queen-Anne's-Lace  by William Carlos Williams

Horses  by Witter Bynner


August. 5 poems related to food; You might enjoy more here: "Feast on this smorgasbord of poems about eating and cooking, exploring our relationships with food.

We Eat Out Together by Bernadette Mayer; Eating Alone  by Li-Young Lee 1957; Churning Day  by Seamus Heaney; The Rambutan Notebooks by Aimee Nezhukumatathil; Butter by Elizabeth Alexander

 Meditation on a Grapefruit by Craig Arnold 


Aug. 12: To Prisoners Gwendolyn Brooks; Poems from "Poetry and the Creative Mind" :  celebrating National Poetry Month, April 2026 https://poets.org/2026-poetry-creative-mind

 One thing is easy / to keep, your old language I use for poems / and pillow talk.”-- from New Tradition/新传统 by Evan Wang   https://poets.org/poem/new-traditionxinchuantong;   

Devotion by Tracy K. Smith;   The Fisherman  by W.B. Yeats;   The Dancing by Gerald Stern;  Telephone Booth (number 905 1/2) by Pedro Pietri  The Geometry of the Uninvited by Gregory O'Neill

Aug. 19
 Food by Brenda Hillman; (one very long, but segmented poem); 3 short poems. Elegy by W.S. Merwin;
one stanza ghazal - by Agha Shahid Ali; Poem by Langston Hughes;  (I loved my friend.); A Bowl of Fruit by Stephen Dunn; The Traveling Onion  by Naomi Shihab Nye

Judith reports: Meanwhile, back at the ranch—dressing, I guess with this collection.  Barbara happened to have brought lunch in the form of yogurt with maple syrup on it, but the rest of us were helpless under your relentless attack.  We really really got into these poems.  Graeme had Eddy read the one which he had sent to you—and for once in a way (to be blunt) his reading was good.  Maybe because he intimately relates to this poet more than some others.  By the time we got to butter we were in a fairly rollicking mood—Graeme asked me to read it, which I did with proper—unction.  But then I exploded that we would all have to go home and have our cholesterol meds, and pointed out that we could Not enjoy the grapefruit poem because of those meds!  Bernie asked how many were on statins and at least 2/3 of those present raised their hands!  So they are deprived of grapefruit too.  (And why are oranges and lemons not a part of this ban???) I then told them of the discussion group I had belonged to before Covid broke it up and how I had teased an earnest young fellow by describing how I ate one pink grapefruit a year at New Year’s, as a special treat because I LOVE grapefruit and am forbidden it.  the poor kid used to get SO flustered—it was a riot and I was so mean—it was a hoot to see a very young fellow react to an elderly witch be erotic over a damn pomelo…So Graeme said go ahead and read this poem too—so I did—reeling and writhing in my most Method Manner.  It was very enjoyable.  So we went home happy if rather peckish and I tried to stanch my estomac with an open face toasted cheese sandridge.  Indifferent success.  

 

What a hoot!

Friday, July 10, 2026

July 8 + 10

There Never Was Time, by Byron Herbert Reece; The force that through the green fuse drives the flower  by Dylan Thomas; The Question Ever  by Wndy Videlock; The Talker by Mona Van DuynFidelity by William Ward ButlerMutability by William Wordsworth; The Secret in the Mirror by Alberto Ríos

Nutshell

The first two by poets were born only 3 years apart (in 1914 and 1917) and both died before the age of 40. There never was time could be a philosophical thought about time as some resisting definition, and not to be confused with age.  To end the poem by repeating the title, adds heft to the thought that time refuses "completion", and that living in fact is an ever-unending and unfinished business.  We appreciated how a poet, only 35 years old when he wrote the poem, captured the tone of a wise old man.


The poem has some beautiful lines and sounds, for instance, the first two opening lines , and then the 13th line:  The roughs of knowledge that wanted scaling/Loomed — there was time to be a sage;  The three short parenthetical sentences sum up the problem:  1.  There was time for youth to pass; 2. Time enough for a man to age; 3) Never time for everything.

We discussed TB and the impact on a life knowing there is no cure for it.   

How different in tone the energy of Dylan Thomas: The force that through the green fuse that drives... first the flower, his green age; then the water, and his blood.  We discussed the repeated 4th line, And I am dumb ... which at each instance seemed to have a different connotation.  sorry, loathe, unable, ignorant, speechless, stymied...   The poem is haunting with its unusual syntax, with a wildness of images to paint contractions of the interconnections between life and death. We agreed, this is a poem to be voiced outloud where the  power of delivery is more important than trying to ascribe sense to the words. 

It came up how Thomas was quite the alcoholic, and how "drinking like a fish" applies to the fish in salt water, who actually gulp water as opposed to freshwater fish who absorb it through their gills, skin. The Handbook for lightning strike survivors. also came up.  The author Michele Young-Stone has written two other books available in the MCLS. (Monroe County Library System).  It's listed as 2010 in the audiobook version Bernie has which is available through Hoopla via the Brighton (or likely any other MCLS library), and also in Libby. He found it a good listen.

The question ever:  No matter the contradictions, human beings share common ground in trying to understand fear, especially if it doesn't seem "reasonable".  We enjoyed the poet's short note as much as her poem, if not more.

 

The Talker:  Coming from a book "If it be not I", the poet plays with a persona poem style, in this case, a  a portrait of a blustering borderline bloviator.  Her line breaks are delicious, particular with the long enumeration of subjects on which the person talks, comma, line and stanza break, as if renewing energy with a deep breath to emphasize the endlessness with "of everything".

Bullfrogs triggered many associations such as what Warty Biggins might have to say https://goldenstate.wordpress.com/2010/04/28/1719/.  Jim offered a story about the silent observation of bullfrogs watching him while camping.  We all know people who could profit from some restraint in being the loudest voice.

 

Fidelity:  Although the note doesn't say anything about LGBTQ, the reference to pronouns as a way to declare identity, or a "he" having a hysterectomy as reference to transgender, and the general difficulty of society to accept alternatives to socially acceptable classification points to it.  Starting with death, and pronouncing a cut carnation as dead, the poem proceeds to definitions and theories then pulls out Judith slaying Holofernes.  We felt the poet is angry about political tyranny.  Changing one's "pronouns" is a way to protest.   

 

Mutability:  a beautifully phrased  philosophical musing about the constancy of  the unpredictable shifts and changes of life.  How to recognize that even awful music is part of the sound of truth.  

Difficult to understand exactly what he might have meant by the unimaginable touch of Time.

 

The secret in the mirror:  delightful combination of sound and a humorous take on who and what it is we see in the mirror when we look.  

 

https://www.facebook.com/photo/?fbid=10162845725930922&set=pcb.1509821157506415

more events at Rundel and Kate Gleason Auditorium at Central Library  regarding American History: 

 

Sunday, July 5, 2026

July 1

 Because of the July 4 holiday, there was no session July 3 at Writers and Books.

The Human Constitution  by Jim Armstrong; Spell by Katherine Gale DaCosta; I, Too by Langston HughesGhazal: The Dark Times by Marilyn HackerThe Andalusian Dog Finds Answers Pablo MedinaBells in the Rain by Elinor Wylie; Fire and Sleet and Candlelight by Elinor Wylie;

extra: Anaphora Using Wilfred Owen’s Line “If you could hear, at every jolt”  and A Bowl of Spaghetti by Kimiko Hahn

(click on hyperlinks for the poems) by Kimiko Hahn (click on this hyperlink to find out more about Kimiko, the current NY State Laureate and one of the readers at the Flower City Poetry Festival in June in Highland Park. 

NUTSHELL:  

A general comment that comes up with the weekly discussion of poems is that often, reading them by oneself, one's opinion of them might skirt a negative view with an urge for a rapid dismissal.  However, reliably, and perhaps equally rapidly, there is a redemptive quality about discussion in person with others, which often results in appreciation for having encountered them. 

Poetry has as many flavors and forms as languages in which it is written to respond to the circumstances of being human.   The first two poems, seem to address our "Human Condition" and desire for some magic "Spell" by their title alone.  Both are from the group Just Poets, founded in 2004 as an offshoot of Rochester Poets, where the word "just" means both "fair" but also, "without pretention" and the annual anthology is called "Le Mot Juste" the French for the "most accurate word".  

The Human Constitution:  We started out enjoying the alliterations (fettle of you fusing), free speech muscles wither to whispers, but soon felt the poet was administering an overdose of cleverness,  The anger provoked by abuse of  a Bill of Rights was clear as was the analogy of an amputated legal document to our human body, both of which are best served with humane treatment.

Spell:  In a similar fashion, the play on title as the act of creating letters and a sense of magic was also clever and original.  However, some felt it was too laborious, lacking in emotion and one called it an OTR (One Time Rave).  On the other hand, all of us agree, there is something akin to magic in the power of words.  Note, the poet was careful not to use that word, magic, but showed one way in which to craft it.

I, Too : from Weary Blues (1926) 

We have discussed this poem before, but it felt fitting to bring it to attention a few days before the 250th celebration of the this country on "Independence Day".  It is ironic that the founding fathers were not exempt from the mistakes of Old Europe, and poorly disguised a feudal slave state.  The eloquence of Langston Hughes expressed in simple terms, underlines an innocent, almost childlike insistence that "tomorrow" (a word isolated on one line) will be different from "then" (also isolated on one line, and can refer both to the past, but also what will happen next.  The tone is complex and strikes straight at the heart.  We spoke of the implications of "ashamed".   One person brought up Rita Bell's (b. 1925) Bell Ringer show, and her courage to set an example, advocating for women in broadcasting during a time when female on-air talent was rare.  Another brought up Don Shirley whose story is told  in the 2018 film Green Book the name of a travel guide for black motorists in the segregated United States.

In the Dark Times:  Hacker uses a line from Bertold Brecht in his poem "Motto" in her title and first couplete of this ghazal.  One person asked, what point out it is a ghazal in the title?  It's a good question, but could possibly be putting emphasis on a form adopted by Western culture.  She also uses Arabic ya akhy which means my brother in the 3rd couplet before the end. Likewise, some did not know the word menhirs, an ancient monumental stone in different parts of the world. Brecht's poem in German, is on 4 lines so that the repeat of  "In the dark times" stresses the change of the first word "About the dark times". Note that Hacker repeats this line as refrain.  

In the dark times, will there also be singing?

Yes, there will be singing.

About the dark times.


In den finsteren Zeiten,

Wird da auch gesungen werden?

Da wird auch gesungen werden.

Von den finsteren Zeiten.


 The poem was written in 2017, and with the second term of Trump, the final question is as pertinent as ever to address what each of us does, or fails to do.


You come home from your meeting, your clinic, make coffee and look in the mirror

And ask yourself once more what you did to bring about the dark times.


The Andalusian Dog Finds Answers Pablo Medina:  I hyperlinked the poet, so you could see his Cuban background.  I told the group that I did not chose the poem because of the 1929 Silent French movie Un Chien Andalou but because of the opening line: God likes to be played like a piano.  When dealing with surrealism, your guess is as good as anyone's to arrive at anything that ressembles "accurate" understanding.  How do you understand that opening line and how do you relate the poem to the title?

It would seem Medina has chosen images from the movie with its shocking, disjointed imagery and dream-logic narrative. As one person put it, reading the poem  is like going to a modern art museum specializing in surrealist works.


two poems by Elinor Wylie:  I was sad that Judith was not part of the discussion, as she had recommended them as examples of good anti-war poetry.  

We have discussed Wilfred Owens before and his powerful "Dulce et Decorum Est".

Wylie uses a different approach.  The Bells in the Rain indeed would seem to be the title of a lyrical poem that has nothing to do with war... even that first quatrain seems to entertain that "peace" is available and possible.  


Sleep falls, with limpid drops of rain,

Upon the steep cliffs of the town.

Sleep falls; men are at peace again                             

While the small drops fall softly down.


How beautifully she carries forth and repeats  Sleep... and it is the grass which is  peaceful and the rain falls so softly on stone. 

To snap you out of any reverie, the final stanza slaps you with a horrifying pivot .

The other poem, longer, ends with a cryptic note... again "sleep" as what one does buried (although many soldiers do not have a grave).
Straight as an arrow

    You fall to a sleep

Not too narrow

    And not too deep.


I brought up as an addition a poem by Kimiko Hahn Anaphora Using Wilfred Owen’s Line “If you could hear, at every jolt” . It comes from the final stanza of the Wilfred Owens poem.  I immediately thought of If by Rudyard Kipling -- such a small word... which such large sequels.

 

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

 

To end on a cheerier note, I read A Bowl of Spaghetti by Kimiko Hahn.  You might enjoy reading more of her work: more poems by Hahn:

 https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/161139/against-opulence

her poem side by side with Thomas Hardy's which inspired hers. 

Saturday, June 27, 2026

June 24+ 26

 Happiness  by Raymond Carver Jr.;  Rock Paper Scissors by Arthur Sze;  Artemis II  by Nellen Dryden; 

Poems from Verse Virtual: https://www.verse-virtual.org/poems-and-articles.asp

 It Really Is Wonderful  by Shawn Aveningo-Sanders; Lunar Blues  by Michael Minassian;


Nutshell:

 

notes from the poems for June 24-6

Happiness:  Carver pins the ephemeral nature of happiness, but also creates the sense that "anything could happen".  One thought shared was that the happiness was in the poet, observing the two boys.  He says they are so happy, but there's no way of telling.

 

Rock Paper Scissors: We enjoyed the interconnections this game demonstrates, and how Sze moves on to the sense of competition in the loop of evoluation.  The rhyme smudging/trudging linking finger and foot prints, accentuates interweaving, and then the chrysoprase, known as the stone healer of the heart is the heart

to complete the sense of all woven together.

 

Artemis II:  this poem by singer/songwriter Nellen Dryden based in Nashville, was published in Rattle.  She is referring to the New Yorker interview  of astronaut Reid Wiseman and says her poem "reflects on the meaning of the mission."  The group was divided as to whether the length of the poem worked, or was overworked; if the thoughts flowed or felt composed of jarring parts.  The book Orbital by  Samantha Harvey came up.  An interesting observation: The mission is a non-verbal thing... but the poem starts w/ microphone.  coming back to communication and pull back to human.  I believe there was consensus that  however one arrived, the last line is a keeper.

Who doesn’t feel a weight lifted

at the prospect of a world?

 

It Really Is Wonderful: from Verse Virtual:  We enjoyed discussing pros and cons of vocabulary such as "jettisoned" in the first stanza and "fracture of his grief", "a tear floating up", where some felt it echoed the situation of a space capsule, while exposing the personal grief of the Commander of Artemis, which indeed, can  break us, "throw us violently" outside of ourselves.

Is the poet "trying too hard"?  We enjoyed comparing the angles of the space mission in these two poems, concluding (as Maya Angelou puts it) we may not remember the facts, but we remember how something made us feel. 

As ever, we appreciate that in poetry it is not about right or wrong interpretations.  

 

Lunar Blues  : from Verse Virtual   A reflective poem where we all liked best the second couplet, Moonlight covers us 

like a fleeting thought.

 

The accent isn't on a general feeling of regret, but how fleeting our thoughts and emotions are. 

Thursday, June 18, 2026

June 17 (no meeting at Poetry Oasis)

 Before the Blight by Ruth Stone 1915—2011;  Alexa for Seniors in Easy Steps by Alexis N. GarciaHappiness  by Carl Sandburg - 1878 -1967; On Distinction by A. F. Moritz 1947;  A LIST OF SHADOWS by Bruce McRae; CANTABILE by Emma Neale; An Illustration of Two Beauties by Hồ Xuân Hương

Additional comments from Poetry Oasis 6/26 on the above poems:

Additional comments about poems for June 17-19, 2026.

Because Poetry Oasis did not meet 6/19 due to Juneteenth, I add the discussion points brought up 6/26.

Before the Blight:  If you did not know about the blight of Dutch Elm Disease which started in 1928 in the US, and did not grow up with Elms, or seeing their demise, you might think this is a lovely poem about summer, replete with roses that pretzel up a trellis in Mrs. Mix's garden and are compared to pink Limoges cabbage blooms, further compared to Rubens' nudes.  This last detail accentuated for some the sensual/sexual nature underlying the poem.  The 11 lines of  the poem describe an idyllic summer world, rocked in maternal arms, but with a surprising twist at the 8th line of a bird, "telling me of the strangeness of myself".

The poem could have been a sonnet, perhaps, with another 3 lines -- and perhaps intentionally is shortened, like Adam and Eve cast out of the garden of Eden, suddenly aware of their nakedness,

their failure to resist the apple.  

 

Returning to the title, the poem serves as a reminder of how good things are before some catastrophe, like war, famine, plagues, floods.  Many felt the poem Cantabile (p. 3) created the same feeling of celebration of a beautiful world.   In this lyric poem filled with beautiful sounds and rhythms, I have hyperlinked visuals for the bird, shearwater and the cypress macrocarpas.

 

Alexa for Seniors: We discussed this as a persona poem told in the voice of Alexa.  This helped resolve the confusion in the third line (I don't want a smart home) and the reference to a t-gel coded augmented data body.  This also might explain the lack of punctuation, the misspelling of rlly and 2 take for to take.  Professor Xavier is a real reference.   This led to a further discussion of use of chatbots and consequences not just on the younger generation, but on us all and our way of communicating.

 

Happiness:  A good antidote poem to "Alexa" where happiness is not something to be "defined" but rather felt in the simplicity of a moment.  Adjectives to describe the tone:  peaceful, after the rather dismissive response to academics and "bosses" who most probably have never taken time to observe "happiness at work".  

 

On Distinction:  One person brought up the example of ossuaries in monasteries: no matter who is buried, all the skulls look the same.  We felt a distinct sarcasm, starting with the title and first stanza with the mention of cockroach, often mentioned as the sole survivor of an apocalypse. 

(Some recalled also Kafka and the metamorphosis of Gregor Samsa.)

 

List of Shadows:  We enjoyed this exploration by list, and picked up on the "but there is so much people don't know about me", not matter how long or elaborate a list of what we truly are, but either hide, or about which we do not know.  One possible understanding of the final not worth a mention, is to put humans in their place, rather like the poem above.  Regardless of our complexity, the difficulty of understanding the shadow, "nobody" provides an unwritten commentary about who any of us are at all.

 

An Illustration:  We discussed the parallel of Jane Austen's portrayal of British views of the role of marriage, such as in Sense and Sensibility written about 20 years after the birth of Hồ Xuân Hương, her Vietnamese counterpart.  Marriage as duty, as expedient solution, and the problem both for wives and concubines, or the pleasure of relationship came up with mention also of 

The Red Lantern.


Nutshell of discussion 6/17 


Before the Blight: The poem brought up many memories of dignified Elms.  Dave, who graduated from Trinity College shared that the school song was "'Neath the Elms".  Whether Elms on East Avenue or elsewhere, the opening line coupling "joy" with "indolent" sets a scene before Dutch Elm disease, .where for 8 lines, all seems wonderfully filled with beauty but also humor, with the roses "pretzeling" up a trellis; pink Limoges cabbage blooms like Rubens' nudes.

 

 Published in 2002, perhaps readers would appreciate the comparison... and perhaps it was second nature to know the names of all that grows in meadows, orchards, woods.  Is it possible for the generations growing up with i-phones, and with i-pads replacing books?  For me the poem makes me long for those days.  The turn of the poem doesn't lead to what happens after the blight, but rather captures the idea of how strange we humans are.  And yet, in spite of that, we CAN feel rocked in the "sinewy arms of summer".  We can make ourselves part of nature, not try to manage or destroy it.

 

The title is the only hint that there will be loss of something grand and beautiful.  That is enough for me, to think how much has changed since the turn of the millenium, where classic humanities are in competition with virtual reality and AI slop.   It was refreshing to read a well-crafted, uplifting poem to offset the disdainful lack of respect and dignity in the current leadership of Trump and his sycophants.  

 

Alexa: Tongue-in-cheek look at how easily one can go down the rabbit hole of technology. It is a mirror image of the first poem.  Vicki shared a fun story of her conversation with AI when she reported an error.  It was most polite and thanked her, explaining that mistakes in details can occur as it works with large patterns.  Neil brought up  Janelle Shane[1]

And yes, worms can have not only 5 hearts but more.

 

Happiness: One person remarked that this was an unusual poem for Carl Sandburg.  Everyone could relate to the sudden inexplicable sense of well-being that defies definition. 

One person labeled the feeling of this poem as "unbothered".  Whatever others think, let them, and whatever happiness is... see it swell into a moment of sharing food and fellowship.  

Kathleen shared her story of preparing a wonderful afternoon in the Saratoga Springs gardens -- and this poem would be a perfect thank you to all who participated in baking biscuits, preparing strawberries and cream to celebrate the gardens.

 

 

On Distinction:  Hungry has a lot of connotations... "Hungry i" or "Hungry Eyes" , the hungry for distinction indeed has a predatory feel of a "hungry eye" on those who seem to "make it". 

The line that stopped us was second stanza, second line:  a beer bottle, silicon fused by man,

almost indestructible, like a soul.  What?  Is that all that will last?  It reminds me of On the Beach  by Nevil Shute, where the signal picked up by survivors wasn't from a person at all; the wind was whipping a window shade, causing an entangled Coca-Cola bottle to tap repeatedly against a telegraph key.  


The associations the poem brought up ranged from responses to 9/11 in NYC, to obsessions we seem to have on how old someone is.  One criticism is that the poem seems to focus on extroverts.  There are other kinds of ways of being, of "distinguishing" oneself  than the contradictory last line.   It is a harsh judgement to call our life  "a paradise of demons casting each other out".  Whoever writes the history I hope will include those who are not demons!  

 

A List of Shadows.    Not really a list as much as a meditation on shadows, beginning with the epigram from Shakespeare.  The Jungian connection of the shadow of the self came up and how it is

important to know and recognize it in order to avoid the negative effect of it when repressed.

The story of Peter Pan and Wendy illustrates such importance.  The Woman with no Shadow by Strauss also came up. An interesting conclusion of the list: the shadow of the Self (with a capital S) as "life's ghost a shade rummaging in the roses."  Perhaps no one talks about it. The final "Not worth a mention" jars as if the poet is jaded and leaves the poem on a sarcastic note.

 

Cantabile:  Beautiful use of musical metaphor that sings and flows.  The opening stanza closing with "a passing sloop of rain" carries on to wheels, and soft "w" sounds, moving to the shearwater described as sooty, urged to the occlusives of   arc /from a kelp-black rock. The green choir of macrocarpas sight-reading is delightful, and the ending perfect with wide bars of silence and a soloist who breaks open the bread of song... 

 

An Illustration of Two Beauties:  We focussed more on the visual paintings than the poem.  Are the ladies both doing embroidery? Is the lady on the right admiring herself in the mirror instead of working?  What stories are unwritten?  What is the "willowy" fate?  And what pleasures are omitted by the illustrator?  Is it a moral lesson about hanging on to beauty?  

What if the lady on the right were gazing at a modern day i-phone? 



[1] She is not the founder of TED (technology, entertainment, design) but an artificial intelligence researcher, author, and humorist best known for her AI Weirdness blog, where she writes about the funny and often strange ways that AI algorithms behave.  While she didn't found the organization, she is a notable figure in the community. She was a featured speaker at the TED2019 conference, where she delivered a popular talk titled "The danger of AI is weirder than you think".