Love at First Sight by Wislawa Szymborska
Disappointment by Tony Hoagland
Gloria Mundi by Michael Kleber-Diggs**
Bloom — is Result — to meet a Flower— Emily Dickinson
** (see his Acrostic (Title of poem: America Loving Me to Death + Golden Shovel using the first 24 words of the pledge of allegiance: https://poets.org/poem/america-loving-me-death
Nutshell:
We were delighted to have Joyce join us, from the Jewish Home! Zoom has so many advantages!
The poems today brought out Martin's view of Love being the most important need; our desire
for connection; very different takes on how to live, without feeling a need to be remembered for something.
Love at First Sight: Although we've discussed this brilliant poem before, it is a perfect one for reminding us that "certitude" can indeed be reassuring, and often our adopted attitude towards the way we want to explain how things are... but what of that mystery of the inexplicable -- it often is "more beautiful still".
As one person put it, another title of the poem could have been "Ode to Incompleteness of What We Know". Elaine noted the capitalization of Chance and Destiny... and we briefly discussed the difference--
how indeed, they act like Greek or Roman gods... the one offering possibility, good or bad, the other a sense of a required set of circumstances dutifully fulfilled per expected requirements and by definition.
The repetition of perhaps, and other ER sounds, the alliterative "signs and signals", "doorknobs and doorbells" add to the pleasure of the excellent translation. Why can't there be love at first sight? Is love always a mystery? The witty examples of chance encounters, the metaphorical suitcases, a certain leaf... all add to the pleasure. Nothing new in the conclusion, and yet it does not take on the tone of a sermon,
with the tongue-in-cheek, "after all"... in the "book of events", always open halfway through. David cited Tom Stoppard, "Every entrance an exit somewhere else... " and brought up the idea of a deliberate structure with a dénouement will happen only in art-- not life.
The Thing is: The visceral description of grief, the throat unable to breath, the weight, the obesity, like an obscenity a grease of grief, where indeed one wonders how a body can withstand it... The question seems to offer a choice point, after the pile up of circumstances, when you have no stomach for it, when grief... when grief... only more... But Ellen Bass does not say if. She offers then. She returns to the beginning, the fact is, to love life... is to be able to keep on going. She translates grief into words that weight us down, then offers this tenderness of "holding life like a face" -- the gentle touch one uses holding a child, a lover. It reminds me of Stanley Kunitz, "Touch Me". Yes, one is once again,
because of that, to love life again.
My heart being hungry: /Disappointment: Both poems use the word querulous, Millay for need,
Hoagland for the insistent chatter of desire. Again, I think of Kunitz poem, "what makes the engine go? desire, desire, desire" Millay, to quote Judith, sketches an elegant pity party. Both poems address our hunger for connection, and what "fills the heart". It is curious, Millay without using the word desire, hints at need others "fat of heart" would not appreciate, such as edge acrid tansy in the dark. The second stanza hints/ projects the loss of satisfaction should that hungry heart be dull (no longer clamoring).
Hoagland uses a tongue in cheek approach, with lively language: "fish in tin armor", the "trench coat of solitude/scarf of resignation". It could seem that the set up is for a suicide... but he sketches the freedom of being off the hook when no longer needing to worry about meeting exceptions! This is definitely a poem that profits from being read outloud. Sadly, I could not find a recording of him reading it.
Barb's sigh, reading the title, Carolyn's clipped trot through the last two stanzas with no punctuation gave the feeling both of disappointment and that blend of discrepant details, the contrast of "minor roadside flowers pronouncing their quiet colors", the reversal of a mother goose hey diddle diddle with the moon
going over the barn, and loss of a job a freedom.
It is fun to image the kind of conversation Bass, Millay and Hoagland might have!
Gloria Mundi: Thanks to Bernie, we discovered this poet, who clearly enjoys playing with form.
The title provides a paradoxical embrace of praise to life while discussing death and how to proceed
with a funeral, burial. Mary is eager to send it to family to reassure them it is not necessary to make
a trip to come to a funeral. We all agreed, it would be helpful to establish one's desires and let people know them before we die. Judith was reminded of the Rubiaiyat of Omar Khayyam and the Potter's tale...
https://www.bartleby.com/380/poem/1017.html
The enjambments are effect for the most part, although slightly overdone. Come to my funeral dressed as you are/ (as you) would for an autumn walk...
Arrive on your schedule; I give you permission/ (permission) to be late...
We loved the calm distance, the acceptance of our small moment on earth, the fact of being smaller by
being mixed back into the earth. David pointed out, the poem is actually a set of directions on how to live.
Bloom: We didn't have enough time to consider this enigmatic poem-- overtones of duty to bloom--
"to meet a flower and casually glance" is not enough... given the "profound Responsibility" -- for all of us to bloom, surviving all the offsets and unpredictable weather!
The zoom session didn't have time for the Dickinson!
We didn't have time for the poems below. I shared the Dunbar, The Sparrow on the Rundel central library facebook page. https://poets.org/poem/sparrow-0 As Spring gives hints of arriving in March, I picked this poem which reminds us not to be so wrapped up in our work and lives, but take time to appreciate the gifts of the natural world around us — indeed, sources of peace, hope, love.
There are SO many poems that came up in February for Black History Month. If time we can choose from:
—As I Grew Older by Langston Hughes https://poets.org/poem/i-grew-older
—"Let my anger be the celebration we were never supposed to have."by Natasha Oladokun
https://kenyonreview.org/kr-online-issue/2018-novdec/selections/natasha-oladokun-763879/
In today’s poem, we see both rage and truth. Here is a poem that looks America in the eye, and tells the country how she feels. It’s also an ode to the power of anger. — Ada
—Bearing Witness by Laura Weaver https://www.lauraweaver.org/poetry “On the edgeof the 6th mass extinction, with species vanishing before our eyes, we’d be a people gone mad, if we did not grieve.”
— Celebration of Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872-1906) on 2/22/2022 (Tuesday twosday)
I will be glad to send the audio recording as soon as it’s available!
Sympathy by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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