Taking the Hands -- Robert Bly
Gone & Gone by Rodney Wittwer
Here, Bullet -- by Brian Turner
A Soldier’s Arabic -- by Brian Turner
Arboretum – by Louise Glück
Benjamin Britten: Ceremony of Carols-- (excerpt: Spring Carol by William Cornish)
December is filled with secular and sacred celebrations -- I'd be pleased if you have any poems that come from traditions you would like to share.
I included an excerpt from Benjamin Britten's "Ceremony of Carols" which is based on Middle English poetry and some links so you can hear how the music surpasses the words. (It's on my mind as I'm singing the Soprano part Dec. 8th!).
If you do not know the music by Benjamin Britten, A Ceremony of Carols, you can hear it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7CB2JOQkRBw -- first half.
“The majority of the text is taken from The English Galaxy of Shorter Poems, and is in old English. Because of this, a translation is provided as well as notes by Tom Ajack.
http://www.choralnet.org/view/222462
Note that in the middle ages, Christ’s birth was celebrated in Spring.
**
Gone are my notes from the wonderful discussion... so I will try to reconstruct an echo of the discussion. We started with looking at our hands, considering what we "cage", protect, receive, give touch, further to Bly's 5-fingered poem. Thanks to Maura who sent a follow-up picture of hands.
Wittwer's seven stanza poem uses ampersands for "and" which for some was disconcerting, for others, creating a hieroglyphic sense of mystery. The dreamlike sequence and fine use of sonics support a sense of elegy, the "we" turning to "everyone" in the final stanza, which challenges our belief that we have an idea of where we are, what we are doing, until we are "gone." Are there more than two senses of "gone" indicated in the title?
Brian Turner returns -- we started the year with "Eulogy",one of his poems from his book "Here, Bullet" published in 2005. The title poem, discussed Monday takes the bullet's message but of course, admitting that "here is where I complete the word you bring/
the way it is..." "A Soldier's Arabic" reminds me that one cannot paraphrase a good poem -- of course, one can point out from title to last word,
the pinnings of language to words, that begin and end, starting with the word for "love". It moves to how we write, English from left to right, and Arabic from right to left, and puts into question beginnings, ends, as veiled and unknown as death, written by "cursives of the wind."
Much is written now about Louise Glück. Her teacher Stanley Kunitz, remarked in 1966 about her intensity and strong voice, and since, critics have awarded adjectives such as “chilling,” “supremely reticent,” “distant,” “scrupulous. Perhaps -- but I find poems such as "The Purple Bathing Suit" and "Arboretum" point to her ironic humor that is most pleasing. To start a poem with "We had the problem of age, the problem of wishing to linger." after the title, "Arboretum" sets up a few sparks about what it is we try to "plant for the future" or try to preserve -- or indeed, plant and then crowd out, not to mention celebrate only to find out our zeal to promote something we find attractive is invasive... The mock humor of "we asked/so little" repeated with different line-breaks and completions is highly effective,
mirrored in the ultimate question "How did we manage to do so much damage..."
In the same way, in a counter-pull is the repetition of "we were correct" which pulls at "checked", which could be countered with the repetition of desire.
The harp and two sopranos capture something beyond the words in the Benjamin Britten duet based on the Spring carol. I'll play it on 12/10.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
poems for November 26
The eyeless gene in Drosophila melanogaster – by Robert Pesach
Thanksgiving Thanks – 2009 (Robert Pesach)
Ode to the Vinyl Record by Thomas R. Smith
Advice to my self – Louise Erdrich
Yes - by Aaron Fagan
Around Us by Marvin Bell
Still by A.R. Ammons
Thank you all for the wonderful discussion! I love that we have some detail oriented folks, so now we can refer to the common fruitfly as the black-gut "friend of dew"! How special to be able to talk about what scares us, what makes an impact on us, how we use mirrors of words to see what is significant to us,
What leads us humbly to say "yes" to magnificence we might have missed.
Pesach's poem brings up GMOs, a way to look at the smallest thing and think that could be us... we’re unstable... liable to be experimented with ...
I love how a science poem can lead to a new epithet "black-gut fruitfly Friday..."
a comment about Eisenhower's presidency where he was determined not to let people know what he was thinking, a fresh look at "eye/I" where "it is easier to see in the dark and the dust -- I is difficult/
to pin down.
The Thanksgiving Thanks also turns a scientific eye past artificial intelligence and black holes to the balance of what we think we know, and the power of uncertainty to allow us to embrace immensity without knowing.
"This Knowledge that dots the darkness with Light.
This Ignorance that preserves the Wonder."
Thomas Smith's poem brought up many memories of vinyl records, the way the scra-ritch of the needle against the label at the end is used in films to create a sense of ending that doesn't end. The language captures the sounds of hearing music in this "old-fashioned" way --
"Not only the music, but
the whirlpool shimmering on the turntable
funneling blackly down into the ocean
of the ear—even the background
pops and hisses a worn record
wraps the music in, creaturely
imperfections so hospitable to our own.
and provides the image of the perfect fit of a vinyl record as cloak of flaws --
a crackling unclarity (note the sounds! So much better than the heavier syllabic "lack of clarity" -- with the associations of "un" -- as if undoing the actual playing by translating real sound to a recording played back on a vinyl disk.
Louise Erdrich's poem captures the frenzy we can enter with battling clutter.
Her humorous "Advice to myself" provides a model for all of us to create a list of what we do, and perhaps are better off not doing.
"...decide first
what is authentic,
then go after it with all your heart.
Your heart, that place
you don't even think of cleaning out."
Sounds so simple, and yet... and yet... some examples of avoiding inventory of the heart (just what would we find?): the way Farmhouses own the farmers... possessions possess us... how we buy/consume even if we don't need something, including eating when we're not hungry, and the fallacies around the "purpose" of stuff,
We noted line breaks, a rhythm of prayer and the density of the summary of stuff.
We closed with "Yes" -- having started the month of November with "No" --
and a discussion about "special" linked by AR Ammons' poem, "Still." Significance is how we classify what matters to us, and can lead us to appreciate magnificence which lies in all things. The dualism of "being unique" but not unique creates unresolvable tension worthy of reflection.
We did mention the easy way we praise in current society, as hypocritical as saying
"Bless your heart"... before you say anything negative...
So much more discussion revolved around these poems.
In this season of thanksgiving, I remain grateful for such a gathering of bright and thoughtful people, responding to the power of poems.
Thanksgiving Thanks – 2009 (Robert Pesach)
Ode to the Vinyl Record by Thomas R. Smith
Advice to my self – Louise Erdrich
Yes - by Aaron Fagan
Around Us by Marvin Bell
Still by A.R. Ammons
Thank you all for the wonderful discussion! I love that we have some detail oriented folks, so now we can refer to the common fruitfly as the black-gut "friend of dew"! How special to be able to talk about what scares us, what makes an impact on us, how we use mirrors of words to see what is significant to us,
What leads us humbly to say "yes" to magnificence we might have missed.
Pesach's poem brings up GMOs, a way to look at the smallest thing and think that could be us... we’re unstable... liable to be experimented with ...
I love how a science poem can lead to a new epithet "black-gut fruitfly Friday..."
a comment about Eisenhower's presidency where he was determined not to let people know what he was thinking, a fresh look at "eye/I" where "it is easier to see in the dark and the dust -- I is difficult/
to pin down.
The Thanksgiving Thanks also turns a scientific eye past artificial intelligence and black holes to the balance of what we think we know, and the power of uncertainty to allow us to embrace immensity without knowing.
"This Knowledge that dots the darkness with Light.
This Ignorance that preserves the Wonder."
Thomas Smith's poem brought up many memories of vinyl records, the way the scra-ritch of the needle against the label at the end is used in films to create a sense of ending that doesn't end. The language captures the sounds of hearing music in this "old-fashioned" way --
"Not only the music, but
the whirlpool shimmering on the turntable
funneling blackly down into the ocean
of the ear—even the background
pops and hisses a worn record
wraps the music in, creaturely
imperfections so hospitable to our own.
and provides the image of the perfect fit of a vinyl record as cloak of flaws --
a crackling unclarity (note the sounds! So much better than the heavier syllabic "lack of clarity" -- with the associations of "un" -- as if undoing the actual playing by translating real sound to a recording played back on a vinyl disk.
Louise Erdrich's poem captures the frenzy we can enter with battling clutter.
Her humorous "Advice to myself" provides a model for all of us to create a list of what we do, and perhaps are better off not doing.
"...decide first
what is authentic,
then go after it with all your heart.
Your heart, that place
you don't even think of cleaning out."
Sounds so simple, and yet... and yet... some examples of avoiding inventory of the heart (just what would we find?): the way Farmhouses own the farmers... possessions possess us... how we buy/consume even if we don't need something, including eating when we're not hungry, and the fallacies around the "purpose" of stuff,
We noted line breaks, a rhythm of prayer and the density of the summary of stuff.
We closed with "Yes" -- having started the month of November with "No" --
and a discussion about "special" linked by AR Ammons' poem, "Still." Significance is how we classify what matters to us, and can lead us to appreciate magnificence which lies in all things. The dualism of "being unique" but not unique creates unresolvable tension worthy of reflection.
We did mention the easy way we praise in current society, as hypocritical as saying
"Bless your heart"... before you say anything negative...
So much more discussion revolved around these poems.
In this season of thanksgiving, I remain grateful for such a gathering of bright and thoughtful people, responding to the power of poems.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
discussion of November 12
11/12/12... not quite ready for 2013!
We did start with the Tom Leonard "Jist ti Let Yi No" contrasting with the William Carlos Williams, "This is just to say" -- the two poems mirror the structure, but what a contrast in tone: the unapologetic, almost angry Dr., vs. the heartwarmingly honest beer snitcher which the Scottish accent (to me) makes even more appealing. What draws us to a poem and how to understand it? What makes a poem new?
It is surprising to stumble across a poem written in the early 19th century which can be so universal, one thinks it has just been published almost two centuries later!
So it is the case with Thomas Hood's "No!" It must have been a bad day for him, or maybe he is observing someone in an apocalyptic mood...
How different the contemporary "Last November" by Jason Miller, which in three parts gave us almost 25 minutes of discussion. First images, looking to see links, and how the verbs advance the narrative. What is it about the last line "between her teeth" that continues to gnaw at us. The final part which starts with Shakina, who lives without similes (that mark the first two parts in an irksome way) allows a re-reading of the world and the poem with her eyes, where "leaves" are potato chips, handful after handful crunching between her teeth. The paucity of her life, compared to the crab-scuttle of oaks, minnow-scatter of willow, barbed-wire vines help us rethink the world. Read the poem and enjoy the auditory effects, the different ways of imagining a war scene, a suburban scene, the nature of leaves... and the mechanical crunching, the feeling of caught, just like the paratroopers...
Job Search by Prija Keefe, a local poet, is a brilliant use of ads, of jargon and captures not only the wierdness of looking for a job, but catalogues an overtone
of what kind of jobs are out there... and would you want any of that?
Although I had to leave for the discussion of the last two poems, my question for the Nin Andrews was to ask if it was a prose poem, or simply a passage -- and would that change your feeling about it? Apparently a discussion about a bipolar girl, or typical adolescent came up. The knock-your-socks off last sentence, is haunting to me -- real enough to apply to anyone, not just the girl: "empty rooms inside her and someone hiding in every one." If we are a body, holding in spirit, what is it that
we make "room" for -- what lies in wait?
In praise of Noise certainly has music going -- and made me want to write a poem
using the rhythm of Psalm 100 -- so I did -- to allow the last line -- the song of everything -- which cannot be sung, but yet plays each day through.
We did start with the Tom Leonard "Jist ti Let Yi No" contrasting with the William Carlos Williams, "This is just to say" -- the two poems mirror the structure, but what a contrast in tone: the unapologetic, almost angry Dr., vs. the heartwarmingly honest beer snitcher which the Scottish accent (to me) makes even more appealing. What draws us to a poem and how to understand it? What makes a poem new?
It is surprising to stumble across a poem written in the early 19th century which can be so universal, one thinks it has just been published almost two centuries later!
So it is the case with Thomas Hood's "No!" It must have been a bad day for him, or maybe he is observing someone in an apocalyptic mood...
How different the contemporary "Last November" by Jason Miller, which in three parts gave us almost 25 minutes of discussion. First images, looking to see links, and how the verbs advance the narrative. What is it about the last line "between her teeth" that continues to gnaw at us. The final part which starts with Shakina, who lives without similes (that mark the first two parts in an irksome way) allows a re-reading of the world and the poem with her eyes, where "leaves" are potato chips, handful after handful crunching between her teeth. The paucity of her life, compared to the crab-scuttle of oaks, minnow-scatter of willow, barbed-wire vines help us rethink the world. Read the poem and enjoy the auditory effects, the different ways of imagining a war scene, a suburban scene, the nature of leaves... and the mechanical crunching, the feeling of caught, just like the paratroopers...
Job Search by Prija Keefe, a local poet, is a brilliant use of ads, of jargon and captures not only the wierdness of looking for a job, but catalogues an overtone
of what kind of jobs are out there... and would you want any of that?
Although I had to leave for the discussion of the last two poems, my question for the Nin Andrews was to ask if it was a prose poem, or simply a passage -- and would that change your feeling about it? Apparently a discussion about a bipolar girl, or typical adolescent came up. The knock-your-socks off last sentence, is haunting to me -- real enough to apply to anyone, not just the girl: "empty rooms inside her and someone hiding in every one." If we are a body, holding in spirit, what is it that
we make "room" for -- what lies in wait?
In praise of Noise certainly has music going -- and made me want to write a poem
using the rhythm of Psalm 100 -- so I did -- to allow the last line -- the song of everything -- which cannot be sung, but yet plays each day through.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Poems for November 12, 19. 26
No! by Thomas Hood (b. May 23, 1799 in London.)
Last November by Jason Miller
Job Search by Priya Keefe
Making the Sun Rise – by Nin Andrews
3 poems by James Arthur : In Praise of Noise; In Defense of the Semicolon;
Rapid Transit
4 poems from Aperçus 2.2 (November 2012) http://www.apercusquarterly.com/Apercus_Quarterly/Main.html
The Nightbird’s Apprentice by Jennifer K. Sweeney
Barn Owls – Jennifer Sweeney
Total Lunar Eclipse – Robert Pesich
The eyeless gene in Drosophila melanogaster – by Robert Pesach
Thanksgiving Thanks – 2009—by Steve Coffman
Last November by Jason Miller
Job Search by Priya Keefe
Making the Sun Rise – by Nin Andrews
3 poems by James Arthur : In Praise of Noise; In Defense of the Semicolon;
Rapid Transit
4 poems from Aperçus 2.2 (November 2012) http://www.apercusquarterly.com/Apercus_Quarterly/Main.html
The Nightbird’s Apprentice by Jennifer K. Sweeney
Barn Owls – Jennifer Sweeney
Total Lunar Eclipse – Robert Pesich
The eyeless gene in Drosophila melanogaster – by Robert Pesach
Thanksgiving Thanks – 2009—by Steve Coffman
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