Before going into the poems... the Pittsford Group gave a celebration of our 10 years together discussing poems!~. I've earned the title "the pied piper of poetry in Pittsford" -- SO MANY heartfelt gifts -- speeches, Jim, Paul and his poem about Billy Blake, Bernie's "She walks in poetry",
Carmin's gifts... huge bouquet of flowers and a card signed by everyone with the special addition of
greetings from my mentor, Ellen Bass. John played a transcription of Purcell's Hornpipe dance on guitar, which inspired Judith to start dancing. Oh my. I am filled with gratitude...
“Poems are handbooks for human decency and understanding. Poets hold water in their cupped hands and run back from the well because someone is parched and thirsting. The poem is a force field against despair. ”
Carmin's gifts... huge bouquet of flowers and a card signed by everyone with the special addition of
greetings from my mentor, Ellen Bass. John played a transcription of Purcell's Hornpipe dance on guitar, which inspired Judith to start dancing. Oh my. I am filled with gratitude...
“Poems are handbooks for human decency and understanding. Poets hold water in their cupped hands and run back from the well because someone is parched and thirsting. The poem is a force field against despair. ”
—Elizabeth Alexander, Academy of American Poets Chancellor (2015– )
Notes on the Peanut by June Jordan
Love at First Sight by Wislawa Szymborska
I am reading right now, "Waking Up White" -- and the topic of white privilege of which most whites are not even aware and the racism in our country from Europeans' treatment of native-Americans
to treatment of slaves. It makes me ashamed.
The question came up if our understanding of the first three poems, written by African-Americans born in different times (contemporary, 1936 and 1913) changed by knowing this.
The Barber shop, as black meeting place... the play on "barbarism"... the portrait of a older man and grief all very powerful. However, as a group of whites, the universals of the emotion was just as strong as if we could see our own fathers.
June Jordan's poem is sarcastic and extremely well done, from line breaks introducing George
Washington
Carver... perhaps the only black man presented to white classrooms ...
The Wehrman poetic meditation at first gave us a desire to "workshop the poem" -- but with discussion, as always, the way the poet says a thing guides our understanding.
For the Szymborska, I wish I could read the Polish... but trust the translators who have captured
her light and deft touch.
But to go more in depth. The Terrance Hayes: what is "dark language"-- the shadow of what is said, but also a reference to be "dark" ...
I could hear what he would not say.
reverence in the verb "bow"... How I bow my own head to the razor in my hands,
How we are all the same.
"The only way down is down" pulls the reader down into the poem right away.
We discussed in both groups the necessity of the second stanza, and also the reflective power of obsidian and the mystery of black holes and galaxies. I love that this reflection on the "game of creation" ends this way:
Life breathing life in and out, weaving our warm
I am reading right now, "Waking Up White" -- and the topic of white privilege of which most whites are not even aware and the racism in our country from Europeans' treatment of native-Americans
to treatment of slaves. It makes me ashamed.
The question came up if our understanding of the first three poems, written by African-Americans born in different times (contemporary, 1936 and 1913) changed by knowing this.
The Barber shop, as black meeting place... the play on "barbarism"... the portrait of a older man and grief all very powerful. However, as a group of whites, the universals of the emotion was just as strong as if we could see our own fathers.
June Jordan's poem is sarcastic and extremely well done, from line breaks introducing George
Washington
Carver... perhaps the only black man presented to white classrooms ...
The Wehrman poetic meditation at first gave us a desire to "workshop the poem" -- but with discussion, as always, the way the poet says a thing guides our understanding.
For the Szymborska, I wish I could read the Polish... but trust the translators who have captured
her light and deft touch.
But to go more in depth. The Terrance Hayes: what is "dark language"-- the shadow of what is said, but also a reference to be "dark" ...
Every barber’s got a
gift for mind reading in his touch,
reverence in the verb "bow"... How I bow my own head to the razor in my hands,
How we are all the same.
Science and religion come to the same conclusion:
Someday all the hair
on the body will fall away.
The couplets and line breaks, verb choices, leap with energy.
June Jordan's poem has a clever alliterative power, especially as she builds up polysyllabic paragraphs... peanuts... as in, of little value, or cheap... become mosaic for works of art, the power
of B-52 bombers, pocket calculators, and microphone. Brilliant... funny but with a tangible edge.
I love Hayden's sonnet... the relentless work... the love of a father... the "chronic angers" which refer both to the wood that makes the house, but also the father... it captures the truth of understanding another before coming forgiveness. I love that it ends with a question.
…
Although we are well past the winter solstice this dark poem captures a dark mood of winter..."The only way down is down" pulls the reader down into the poem right away.
We discussed in both groups the necessity of the second stanza, and also the reflective power of obsidian and the mystery of black holes and galaxies. I love that this reflection on the "game of creation" ends this way:
Life breathing life in and out, weaving our warm
black blanket, a
universe wrapped in stars.
Szymborska addresses love-- at first sight, which could apply to general principles of snap judgement... response to destiny and chance."Such
certainty is beautiful,
but uncertainty is more beautiful still.'
...
They’d be amazed to hear
that Chance has been toying
with them
now for years.
The conclusion is convincing given the set up of the poem.
Every beginning
is only a sequel, after all,
and the book of events
is always open halfway
through.
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