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Friday, March 30, 2018

poems for March 21-2

backyard song, Diane Seuss; a song in the front yard by Gwendolyn Brooks; Backyards  by Nikki Donadio; What we are and  Metonymy As An Approach To A Real World by William Bronk; Life While-You-Wait by Maria WisÅ‚awa Anna Szymborska

O Pen:  will start with Symborska, Plato, or Why on Earth

Fun session looking at Diane Seuss' "golden shovel" where she seems to look to Gwendolyn Brooks as her Mama ...
tell me about appearances and desires...
The Bronk and Szymborska got us going on a good philosophical romp.
Paul added his own summary of Plato:
John offered a different way of reading

The Ideal, formed of light
Not content with self
Came to Earth
Seeking excitement
Within bad matter
With no longer a prospect
For eternity

Wisdom crippled
Harmony asunder
Beauty badly altered
Good in shadows

All betrayed
By Naked Truth
Revealing that 
Which is its covering

They are all now mute, Plato,
Insufferable poets,
Mere flakes of shale
Scraps of stony silence.

**
poem by Michael Czarnecki, which comes from his newly released book, YOU.

there is an inner self
mostly hidden from others
mostly hidden from our own self
which occasionally surfaces
allows for little glimpses
then retreats back in

I want my inner self
to connect with your inner self
not just fragmentary glimpses
but real seeing, knowing, feeling
beyond surface illusion

when can we start
To view the cover of the book, read another poem or to order:http://foothillspublishing.com/2018/czarnecki.html
John's idea of reading  What We Are  by William Bronk. 
John read this column as the priest…                                   the group read this column as the                                                                                                                congregation's response
What we are? We say we want to become                            
what we are or what we have an intent to be.
                                                                                    We read the possibilities, or try.      

We get to some.                                                          We think we know how to read.

We recognize a word, here and there,                       
a syllable: male, it says perhaps,
or female, talent - look what you could do -
or love, it says, love is what we mean.
                                                                                    Being at any cost:
… in the end, the cost
is terrible but so is the lure to us.
                                                                                    We see it move and shine and swallow it. 
We say we are and this is what we are
as to say we should be and this is what to be
and this is how.                                                           But, oh, it isn't so.   


poems for March 7-8 -- finished March 14

Kathy kindly assembled some of her favorites and will lead Pittsford.  Mike kindly has accepted to lead Rundel.

R. Wilbur's "For C."  --- from The Voice of the Poet: Richard Wilbur,  2003
W. Szymborska's "Dreams"  --- from Here, 2009 
O.Vuong 's "Kissing in Vietnamese"   --- from, Night Sky with Exit Wounds, 2016 winner of the T.S. Eliot award https://www.amazon.com/Night-Exit-Wounds-Ocean-Vuong/dp/155659495X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1518903258&sr=1-1&keywords=night+sky+with+exit+wounds+by+ocean+vuong
C. Simic's "That Elusive Something "--- from Scribbled in the Dark, 2017

It has been almost a month --
and I am finally getting to the right ups...
Kathy provided more information about Ocean Vuong... worth looking up!

 I love this poem for the way Simic captures the very nature of "elusive" and how memory works.  Each detail is evocative... but why hurry home to forget... how to explain how the heart sees the world?

The Elusive Something  by Charles Simic



Was it in the smell of freshly baked bread
That came out to meet me in the street?
The face of a girl carrying a white dress
From the cleaners with her eyes half closed?

The sight of a building blackened by fire
Where once I went to look for work?
The toothless old man passing out leaflets
For a clothing store going out of business?

Or was it the woman pushing a baby carriage
About to turn the corner? I ran after,
As if the little one lying in it was known to me,
And found myself alone on a busy street

I didn’t recognize, feeling like someone
Out for the first time after a long illness,
Who sees the world with his heart,

Then hurries home to forget how it felt.

O Pen comments: senses… light; mixture of past/present// questions…
intimate.  not translated. 
ending allows us to continue… so pierced by the beauty… painful… exquisite…
painful … b/c can't unpack…  drawn into a different world…
alcoholic… don't trust life…
elusive thing more than seeing world w/ heart.