Poems for April 27

Desert Places  by Robert Frost

Dead Stars by Ada Limón 

The Year of the Goldfinches by Ada Limón

Oral History by Elisa Gabbert

Troubling Myself with Things Too Great for Me by James Silas Rogers

The Leash by Ada Limon

Rundel Group will have the Sokol award poems which will be presented by video at 1 pm on Thursday in the Kate Gleason Auditorium at Central Library followed by a tour of the reading garden with Tom Pacer.

Mary Fraser has organized a drawing from participants to give out a book of poems about trees and field guide. The poems hanging on trees

Desert Places:  When we think of desert, we think of arid land, devoid of water, but have you ever thought of snow-covered landscape as wasteland?  Here, with the sonic moans of O (snow, Oh, repeated lonely, loneliness), Frost confesses a third kind of desert of inner darkness.   We discussed the difference between deserted (abandoned) and empty. 

Written at a time that Frost was dealing with depression, he said about this poem that he wrote it "without fumbling a sentence."  Indeed, both a personal and observational poem. 

We discussed the "absent-spirited", the layered meaning of "count" and "benighted".  The "they" in 

the 4th line before the end allows us to think on what  scares us with empty spaces, take a look at our own.

For contrast, see "Old Man's Winter Night".  

Dead Stars: In the first line, the word "bowing" could be a bow like a curtsey,  a bough bending, or a bow for an arrow, or an instrument.  She starts from the personal to move to the larger environment, and the multiple alliterations and repetitions crescendo, change tone --- ask that we act.  To "survive more" asks not just for words,  to represent "the mute mouths of sea, land"  (take the dust out of our mouths) put our bodies, our full weight into bargaining for a better planet for  "the safety of others".  Yes, we should learn some new "constellations" and stop forgetting... stop being terrified... be as big as stars... 

Hard to recap the many puzzling pieces and the ending,  "after all of this is over".  

The year of Goldfinches: The sounds are masterful,  and as Judith put it, "now there's a poem!" after

saying the other is "frosting on the political cupcake".  Almost a sonnet, and she continued, "the quality of vowels take care of protruding bones... no lumps in the dough".  It is the season of "gold" --  willows, feathers of finches, forsythia...  but also the  "low-watt/female"... A beautiful window into joy and the unconscious at work -- a painting of sounds  with a sense of Easter paradox, "feasting on thorns and liking it."

Oral History:  Interesting title -- as if at a teen-age poetry reading,  although not clear... We all could make a catalogue of things read -- and many readers did fact-checking, surprised to see some of the "news" recited is true.  Many commented on the adolescent feel, the contrast of fact with the bored life, and the Billy Collins-esque "boredom as luxurious misery", "Marooned in time" with nothing interesting happening for eternity, as far as we're concerned on either side.  The strange ending reminded Valerie of a teenager wondering if s/he were adopted... also the teen preoccupation with  "how one is supposed to look" and vanity of one's self...  We brought up the idea of the "super senior" which stretches out the length of adolescent... Dante, "at 30 I knew where to stand" is perhaps no longer... 

Troubling myself... Love the title and Galileo's description of wine as "sunlight held together by water" and the almost surprising ending on "love" as what calls the world into being. 

From miracle to chemistry to transformation... a hint of Euclid who alone could look on beauty, or

Galileo "yet it does move"... and symbolic resurrection of Christ's blood.  As for St. Augustine, he was no "prig" in his libertine days... 

The Leash: There are many ways of thinking of leashes and what is being leashed and how.

What makes this poem worth reading for you?  We imagined Ada's physical limitations, politics, 

and after the first part which sounded like a ritual of politically correct observations about our human propensity to poison, to hate (note, a crepitating crater of hatred)... 

I love that someone substituted "garbage" in image of the wound closing like a rusted over "garage" door.

We spoke of enthusiasm in dogs, and how we too are "hurtling our body towards what will obliterate us"...

what we think to control with a leash...to allow that peaceful walk... until the next truck comes.

I gave two references to Bill Heyen's book, Crazy Horse and the Custers...  and did read Bayonets and Grapeshot to give contest to "meretricious musings"...

As ever, the delight was in the sharing, the puzzling together as we took time to peruse.   

APRIL!!!!! Pittsford: April 6; Rundel: April 7

 Happy Poetry Month!  National Poetry Month poster:  There's a Poem in This Place

(Amanda Gorman's poem, In This Place)

We are  celebrating several things!  

National Poetry Month;  (The month of April) 

 Earth Day 2022; This year, it falls on April 22 with the  theme 'Invest In Our Planet’;

National Arbor Day:  April 29, 2022. This year marks the 150th anniversary of the tree planter's holiday.

Poet-tree — Poetry Hanging at Central Library in the Reading Garden:  April 7-30, 2022

 

Nature and poetry combine in the Dorris Carlson Reading Garden with a celebration of National Poetry Month and the 150^th anniversary of National Arbor Day.  We invite you to stroll around the garden whenever the library is open and enjoy poetry “leaves”.  We invite original poems from all.

From April 7 until April 30, poems will decorate trees on Broad St. next to the Bausch and Lomb Public Library, and throughout the library garden, next to the Foodlink Community Café https://www.facebook.com/FoodlinkCommunityCafe/.

*To submit a poem to be hung in the garden, see guidelines on back of this flyer

Thursday April 28: Noon-1 pm – All are welcome to join Poetry Oasis  in the Kate Gleason Auditorium where submitted poems and passages from Walt Whitman and poems about trees on Poets Walk will be read. It will be followed by a tour of the reading garden by Master gardener Robert Pacer, rain or shine. Boxed lunches welcome. 

The idea of hanging poems"  came from having seen the announcement for Fairport's “Poet-Tree” 

https://spectrumlocalnews.com/nys/rochester/human-interest/2021/04/15/check-out-the-poet-tree-experience-along-the-erie-canal-in-fairport

April 20-21

A Brave and Startling Truth  by Maya Angelou

Mercy by José Antonio Rodriguez

Those of Us Who Think We Know  by Stephen Dunn

The Smile by May Sarton

The Work of Happiness by May Sarton 

Martin brought in words he wrote about the importance of poetry to allow each reader to see things in a fresh way.  This April, celebrating poetry month, we also are celebrating the amazing power of this family of poetry readers to help each other by sharing our insights garnered from such insights.  

I loved that Kathy quoted Martin -- when we come to a difficult poem, one with which we struggle, a good question is, "What is it I am missing, not understanding"?  Several of the poems today required that kind of intense concentration and focus.   I remain so grateful that we go about the work of understanding

in so many positive and varied ways, sometimes humorous, sometimes serious!

Maya Angelou:  This amazingly crafted and powerful poem deserved to go up into space!  Angelou composed the poem for the 50th anniversary of the United Nations in 1995.

It flew into space on the Orion spacecraft in Dec. 2014. She passed away just a few months before the flight. I quote from this article :https://www.nasa.gov/content/poem-by-american-matriarch-flown-on-orion-presented-to-nasa-administrator

 “It is fitting that Maya Angelou’s prophetic words be flown not only outside the bounds of our Earth, but on the maiden voyage of a spacecraft that represents humanity’s aspirations to move beyond our planet, to reach higher, and become more than we have ever been,” ...  “Through art, and the unique perspective of people like Maya Angelou, our discoveries, and the new facts and expanded understanding brought to us by exploration, are transformed into meaning.” 

 Her brilliant insertion of latinate eloquence surprises the ordinary (along with SO MANY other juxtapositions… ex. casual space).  Seeing the adjective "rapacious" next to "storming of churches", or "religious ritual ... followed by what should never happen-- "perfumed/by incense of burning flesh" ... accentuates the power of this repeated insistence of "when"... this repeated "it" of a brave and startling truth.

What associations do you have with a "brave" truth?  I start with a suggestion that  this  truth" must be pitted in a war against all that keeps us from allowing ourselves to achieve the miraculous.   Our positive aspects, we, all of us, people, "on this mote of matter" are juxtaposed with our negative...  We are among the "wonders of the world" which she lists so well-- but the startling truth is this: we must "come to it"-- realize the complexity of our contradictions.  We are not either "devil" OR "divine" but both.

Each line and stanza exercises a powerful eloquence akin to a great sermon.  An example of technique: the length between “rake” and “up”, in the 3rd stanza,  the diminishment of “unique” to “identical” (buried in the bloody grass); the racism inherent in the "minstrel show of hate", images of blackface comedy  and a screech of invective in the sounds of "faces sooted with scorn scrubbed clean".

Martin called on the generosity of the world response to Ukraine; David reminded us of our alloyed nature as there are plenty of people and nations who confirm the opposite.  

Everyone agreed this is a timely poem, an exact description of right now, exposing the depths of our fears, envy, insecurity. Dr. Angelou demonstrates the power of vocabulary and how to weave it. 

José Antonio Rodriguez:  When we listen to him say his same, the Spanish flows so easily off his tongue, and yet, the poem is in perfect English, pronounced as if a native American.  What is "mercy"?  The etymology will lead us to "reward", and "pity". It is a complex poem which seems to be practicing a Socratic maiuetics.  His questions lead us to ponder, and many were puzzled... Eureka does not come quickly in such a case!  If we could ask the stars... he tells us, they will not claim responsibility.  He lays out for us our imperfections... that "living mirror we named love"... denied... We are hungry for answers... and  stories, --and yes,  riddles, ( I think of Zen koans, the Greek Sphinx) as if we know this is what helps us think more deeply -- like gazing up at the "beguiling beauty and metaphorical power of  (stars)these distant, unreachable sources of light". 

The prophet/fool is another trope... We picked up on his confession, "I'm not saying I'm better than you".  Kathy suggested it would be strengthened by saying "any better than you: " and placing a colon or even semi-colon after "you".  Our meager tools: words--   how we use them to construct meanings, delve into understanding.  This speaks to the trope of the poet as creator, like a god.

Stephen Dunn:  How can you not fall in love with the title?  He plays with the line breaks from the beginning:  "Those of us who think we know" (and who hasn't thought that!!!!! )addressing our human capacity for assumptions, presumptions and the pitfalls into which this leads us... and then rescues the "average bear" by the enjambed "the same secrets" -- tempering the universal with a particular...

What gathering is this able to come together "in a quiet ceremony of tongues" ?  The analogy implies some righteously religious sect... and I can see "tongues of spirit" illustrated by flames above the apostles in one of the Sunday school books I grew up with.

David brought up Frost's "Desert Places" which we'll discuss next week.  Auden's words also came up: "The stars I know so well... for all they care, I can go to hell" --  (Perhaps this was about the poem "Mercy" above... I felt that Rodriguez and Dunn would have a great conversation about life, our energies, emotions... ). Kathy brought up the shock value of the ending...  Not everyone would agree that "words we find/are always insufficient, like love...." Words can change our lives... as can the compassion of love to reach and heal others.  Some poems, pieces of music, art have life-changing effects.  

This article about the Tower of Babel and how we are growing stupider came up. https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2022/05/social-media-democracy-trust-babel/629369/

 Who knows what?  Who trusts that someone else, for instance  scientists or religious leaders have "all the answers" and no longer engages curiosity, desire to find out more?   

May Sarton: 

We came close to these comments on the back of my copy of her Selected Poems, 1930-1973.

"The intense experience which underlies and unifies her poems has engendered an uncompromising determination to forge and refine the tool for its expression... deep-searching to the point of ruthlessness and very delicate".  Basil de Selincourt, The London Observer 

"A civilized and intricate way to see"... Robert Hazel, Poetry

"... mature power of recognizing the heart of the matter and expressing it in memorable terms." - Louise Bogan, The New Yorker

Carolyn showed her two copies -- both with a feminine pink touch which does disservice to Sarton's feminist activism.  She also described hearing her in person-- 

The Smile: to see a detail of this angel: https://www.art-prints-on-demand.com/a/sassettastefanodigiovanni/detailofangelmusiciansfro.html

The unobtrusive rhyme, the slant rhymes... the pleasure of unusually fine cadence, traditional use of poetic craft as opposed to the "non-structured drivel" of so much of what poses as poetry these days... She recreates the angel and her realm suggested by the painting... trope of creation...the angel as the artist...  I love that last line-- the surprise of  marvelously human anger and despair blown to bits! Judith recalled an Elizabeth Browning sonnet.  The "seized by the hair" and association w/ rootedness

The work of Happiness:  Do you associate "happiness" with "work"?  Perhaps a substitute word might be "path".  Like life, like marriage, love, most relationships, we receive back what we give to it.  This sense of growth is something I relate to-- the optimism involved with "not finished, more to discover"... an invitation to curiosity.

We might not all have the sense of rootedness from an old house, furniture, but there is a timeless quality to acceptance, and a special peace to quietude, and honoring memories.  "The root continues to grow deep in the dark" -- and that amazing growth upwards of the tree... the inner work... essential for our well-being beyond the outward appearances.  Such blessing.

Valerie mentioned the Book of Joy by the Dalai Lama and the story of the man unfairly condemned to prison.  When asked if he was angry for this, when he was released after 30 years, his response:   If I were angry, that would take my remaining years as well.  

April 13

4 spring poems by E.E. Cummings

  O sweet spontaneous

  Spring is like a perhaps hand

  Who knows if the moon's a balloon

   sweet spring is your 

Terror of the Ripening Mango by Amit Dahiyabadshah

2 failed haiku

Beware: Do not read this poem by Ishmael Reed

The Thing Is by Ellen Bass

High, Higher, Highest by Samuel Hazo

Nutshell discussion:

Cummings: oh the fun!  The visual play of words and punctuation adds a depth to each poem and an invitation to  explore multiple ways to read.  

-- O sweet spontaneous:  In case you have forgotten the definition of "prurient", (having of encouraging an excessive interest in sexual matters) it is hard to escape in Spring, as Paul advised, this is not the season to take young children to the zoo!  The little comma that starts the 10th line as a small poke, or pinch of

"prurient philosophers" adds to the humor of  their fingers being compared to the naughty thumb of science prodding Spring's beauty...  The mock religious genuflection on scraggy knees and formal biblical address of thee, thou, answers contrasts with the primal feel of Spring and the older Gods.  Thou, in this case, is Earth... and the "couch of death" on which to conceive gods, provides a mighty rebirth.

Couch is a many layered noun, including an association with "lair of wild beast." 

So... if we ask for guidance... we receive a season synonymous with the verb "spring". 

We discussed the use of the parentheses: they do ask the reader to pause, think... they add interest; they are not "subsidiary" but could provide a parallel universe of sorts... 

It is interesting that Cummings use of punctuation, spacing and arrangement of text on the white space of a page remains quite original.  I encourage the listening to the two different readings -- there is never one set way to read a Cummings poem!

--III  Spring continues its unpredictable manner here, with "perhaps" falling in different, unexpected places, juxtaposed with "carefully" which also pops up (changing and rearranging while people stare).

-- who knows if the moon's a balloon: fantastic fantasy which reminds me of a Chagall painting (or April Brooks a local artist who has a similar style).  

-- Sweet Spring... https://vimeo.com/155164678 so different a rhythm than Alec Guiness reading https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jx0RH016nPY

The refrains, repeats and lilt of the words seduce us with that receptive "yes" of spring returning.

Amit:  I spoke about the "Terror" in the entry about Amit's poetry.  We enjoyed imagining the quality of the pool of water, the reflection of the mango, where the water acts as magnifying mirror.  

Now what would happen had it been the fish who grew bigger??? 

 "failed haiku". highly successful!!!

Ishmael Reed:  This poem was a big hit!  Reminded some of Johnnie Cash, "24 hours before your going to be hanged"; horror stories... hall of mirrors, and Shel Silverstein, "I'm being swallowed by a boa constrictor"! (Yes, Johnnie Cash acts this one and many others on YouTube!)

There is a serious part to this poem as well as parable of process -- the poem is the reader/reader the poem... what surfaces, disappears... the mirror as symbol of solipsism... the poem as mirror...

We thought of selfies-- to leave trace in the lives of friends...  

Ellen Bass: an old favorite... this poem is loaded with real images... we discussed how survival is instinct-triggered... how being in love more with one's grief than the child grieved... the obesity of grief... with an echo of Shakespeare, "A plague of sighing and grief! It blows a man up like a bladder."

The tenderness of holding  a face, but  an unadorned face, where nothing will change the hard blows life gives, and yet, something so precious.  

Hazo: We heard the poet read his measured tones.  Ken said it could be a terrific opinion piece in the NYT, about world as property to divvy up, section with boundaries and especially with the note, about what "height" implies in our culture about recognition of  achievement, merit. As poem, with rhythms, rhymes, and unusual spaces it flows well.  Indeed, from outer space we don't see people... however, many questioned the line about "we kept the original names unchanged for everything we saw". 

So is a photograph of the Earth from outer space a selfie? 

Rundel : poems discussed 4/7

 

Poems from Poets Walk--to celebrate "Poet Tree" now hanging on trees in the reading garden

When I am a Tree by Susan Deer Cloud

City Trees  by Edna St. Vincent Millay

The Emancipation Proclamation by William Heyen

Going North  by Anthony Piccone

Winter Landscape  by Judith Kitchen

Flip Book  by Tony Leuzzi

2 more Poems from local poets for "Poet Tree"  

Look at the Trees  by Kitty Jospé

October by Jim Jordan 

Two poems discussed 4/6 (see that posting...) Beannacht by John O'Donohue; Maternal Dusk, the Paternal Light by Amit Dahiyabadshah

Discussion:

Susan Deer-Cloud:  You might guess from her name, she is Indigenous American, but is mixed lineage Catskill Indian who first and foremost thinks of herself as a human being and child of the universe.  The title repeated five times carries the reader from the celebratory birth in October, (with lovely alliterative "blaze in branches", "garnet and gold"), to attributes as perch for eagles (not just any bird), a living being rooted, filled with sap--as eager to be hugged as any human being.  We enjoyed the almost humorous coyness in the "trembling"... and "all leaves".  A beautiful example of how everything is connected... how the tree is thus, all those things around it. 

Edna St. Vincent Millay: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/edna-st-vincent-millay; If you read her biography, you might be surprised that this poem was selected for Poets Walk, given her range and prowess.  We enjoyed the contrast between the "city" and "country" trees... skillful play between silence and the "shrieking city air"... The end rhyme is like the wind, almost imperceptible, yet creating a flow to the music, like the the sound of leaves.  We agreed-- trees are so restorative!  

William Heyen:  We tried to remember the actual words of the Emancipation Proclamation https://www.archives.gov/exhibits/featured-documents/emancipation-proclamation/transcript.html  The anaphor "Whereas" followed by three lines introduced by ampersands seems to mimic the style of the speech which indeed has the repeated anaphor of "And..."   We discussed "heartwood grave" -- grave as both adjective, and noun... the idea of the heart of a tree lifting up, perhaps a stump of a tree, as a marker of a grave?  I love that the words are next to the Haudenesaunee Prayer of Thanksgiving, and two trees were planted by them.  It is not for us to "use" the tree for our profit (lumber, paper, etc.) but to let it be itself.

Joyce mentioned how she tends graves in the Mt. Hope Cemetery...  It is so interesting how connections and associations allow us to share our own personal experiences.  Another comment came up about people  asking for money on the streets, offering a poem or a song for $1.  

Tony Piccione:  I can't say we understood the poem -- but that image of lying down, looking up at a solitary tree seeming to come out of the forehead of a rock face on a mountain is striking! The verb howling reminded us of coyotes... but what is "the voice forgiving everything"?  Going North... metaphorically, if a slave, is to head for freedom -- perhaps like this last renegade tree... I love the "freedom from ownership" -- birds nest in the tree, "although it's not theirs either" !

Judith Kitchen:  The tree connection in this poem is the metaphor of a tree being what welds the whiteness of a winter sky, to the snow on the ground.  The imagery is well painted... we can imagine the horses, the whirl of snow... and the surprising "acceptance of the vagaries of wind" by the car.  We would have wanted to know more about "believing the impossible"... what are the two griefs we slides between? The numbing cold, the blank slate of the whiteness, makes no demands.  

Tony Leuzzi: Flip book poem is fun - from front to back... back to front... and the surprising ending.

Kitty Jospé: Inspired by Li-Young Lee, "One Heart" (slated for discussion 4/14):  Mike liked the way the poem started in media res-- as if something had been described, but we don't see it... maybe something happened.  It's good to consider the paradoxical nature of leaves, fastening, falling... and that extended metaphor.

Jim Jordan: local poet. Inspired by W.S. Merwin, the word "unrepeatable" is associated with watching clouds, where as here, it is the glorious gold of black walnut falling.  There is something rendered precious when you think, this will never happen again.  

Discussion 4/6

 

"Beannacht" by John O'Donohue (Blessing)

The Importance of Elsewhere by Philip Larkin

Chimney Sweep Apprentice by David Mills

Knuckles of Smoke: Peggy  by David Mills

Pray for Peace by Ellen Bass

Maternal Dusk, the Paternal Light: Celebrate the Lightness of  Being by Amit Dahiyabadshah

 Last Will and Testament of the Tiger by Amit Dahiyabadshah

Paul's comments: "moved by your selections for Wednesday,  I wondered what moved you to focus (in) on gritty and gutsy reality in those choices.  We, O  peners, are quite used to ethereal, internal, hidden and often tortured thoughts of modern poetry.

    Here is earthy stuff, stuff you can feel, smell, touch, hear, taste. There is pain and it is real.

There is flame and hot, iron pots and sweat on upper lips. There is creosote and dirt and bricks and black bread and...imagine, knuckles of smoke ! ...  So much is physical in these poems, so much to actually grasp and turn and ponder. 

Nutshell:

O'Donohue:  we are fortunate to have our resident Irishman, Paul explain that Beannacht means blessing, and that the penultimate stanza "May the nourishment..." is a variation of the prayer on St. Patrick's breast plate!  Paul elaborated on the footnote about currach as well-- this boat is covered typically with sheep skin, slathered with sheep fat... 

I mistook the word "a saxon" (the way Irish refer to the English according to Paul) for "assassin". 

Larkin: Ah... elsewhere -- this poem has a gentle understatedness about the joy of discovery in oneself that comes with  travel.

The Stranger, l'étranger in French, means "foreigner" -- what is different and unknown.  The opening stanza paints an idea of Larkin, with his good Irish name,  sitting in a pub sharing a pint-- there's a lilt in  that "salt rebuff of speech" -- and beautiful resonance in herring-hawker's cry... the hawker, a street seller, and the sounds bring us the raucous cries of gulls, attracted by those fish... 

What a strange adjective to be called "not unworkable" -- as in able to "work into" the scene... 

David Mills: These two poems were bone-chillingly graphic -- 

the smallness of those chimneys... hard to imagine even a small child wriggling up them -- and as Judith elaborated, most children didn't last long, either TB, beaten to death, neglect... and sometimes burned as a fire would be lit underneath them to force them up quicker... Oliver Twist comes to mind, but this poem underscores the cruelty.  Elaine brought up "Growin': What an effective colon on the last line after the last word of the penultimate stanza. Whether the swelling of the ankles to "black apples", a commentary on stunted growth, or the "trick"-- harder and harder to clean the chimney as a child grew...

Mary Poppins and the romanticized version of chimney sweeps, has a parallel with  other literary romanticized works painting slavery, child labor, and inhumane conditions in pastel colors.

Knuckles of smoke... we discussed the opening, "I got dark authority".  Sarcastic tone...? Sense of agency? At least in this inhumane setting, Peggy is in charge.  What lively language, rife with alliterations-- to describe the bickering pile of heavy cast-iron pots... the heat... where Peggy and all she spices, stirs, stews, boils, bakes is exactly what is happening to her. 

Ellen Bass:  Powerful, powerful poem.  One to read, re-read every day, pray, less harm, less harm, less harm. 

    " .....religious pain, religious symbols, religions, buses, money, 

movies, ATMs, eating and drinking, carrots and onions, hawks, wolves, whales, prayers, voices, water and choirs. So, everything we see or do or hear, each breath, each belief, is a prayer as we make our way, even a stumble in the street." -- Paul

I have written on the top of the poems. "quietude" -- it refers to Amit and his reading of "Maternal Dusk, the Paternal Light" -- but there is also this call for needing, wanting, imploring in pray for it.. 

Yes, every strand left on my head... may you sing in the choir on my head..."

and we return back to Beannacht... 

May the nourishment of the earth...not just be yours, but be for us all;

May the clarity of light ... descend on us all..

Amit Dahiyabadshah-- special visit 4/6

It was such a pleasure to welcome Amit from noon to 12:40 by Zoom.  He did read aloud the two poems sent out

(Maternal Dusk, Paternal Light; Last Will and Testament of the Tiger") but it is his stories and his infectiously uplifting manner that makes it such a joy to hear these poems.  Without the stories, we do not have as full a sense of what the poems invite us to understand.

 He explained about what poetry means to him… how for 25 years, he has been writing a poem a day — not that he is trying to be a “great” poet — but that this act of writing poetry, is a gift to bring to the world, a spirit and way of being.  His dedicated work, bringing this spirit to others is contagiously effective!  

And isn’t that what we want and need?

I am reminded of this quote:

"The trick is in what one emphasizes. We either make ourselves miserable, or

 we make ourselves happy. The amount of work is the same."

 Carlos Castaneda

Poems help us emphasize what makes us happy — help us sort through what makes us feel miserable…

He explained how before coming to the zoom, he had been in a café, where everyone was talking in a glum way about the return of the new version of Covid in Bombay… but when he said he was reading in America to a group of poets, suddenly everyone began to clap!

That’s the power of poetry!

It heals the air, fills the void!  Writing a poem a day is like feeling the beads of a rosary, a simple demonstration that honors “the alchemy of life”.

Imagine, touching 12,000 people, encouraging them to read and write a poem a day!  

Maternal Dusk, The paternal light:

Indeed, there is “no triumph of light over dark”… so if we are to celebrate the “lightness of being”, we must also celebrate the stillness of the “godly maternal dark”—

to be complete.

The Will and Testament of the Tiger

Amit also went on at length about the Tiger, his upbringing where his parents would take him on camping trips in the jungle… how the Tiger will probably not survive because it needs the deep, dark forest… but also the grassy plains now used for cultivating rice and the swamp lands… how man’s impact on the environment forces

a shift of the natural order of things.   Speaking in the voice of the tiger, he explained, he had written the poem after the 2nd and 3rd wave of Covid had come to New Delhi. 

  Before reciting the poem  he made a gentle small roar. 

I asked him to explain “the terrors” —and he explained it is not guns, machinery of war, but what lies in our imagination and projections.  He  did read the “Terror of the Mango” (p. 43)— how he had read it to school children — and the 9 year olds immediately understood that the fish and mango, when small, were fine together.  But as the Mango grew… the fear of the fish was that it would take over! 

The teacher did not understand… like probably a lot of other adults reading his poem.

He also read "Terror of Hunting" p. 50 and told the story about the hunter’s jacket and meeting a man on a train, asking him questions that seemed odd, is important information to understanding what “the terror”  of that jacket is about.  The terror was Amit’s misunderstanding, his desire to get away from this stranger who was asking him if he were Iraqi… and other strange questions.  He felt so ashamed when the man asked, “Do you know any prayers in Iraqi Arabic?  My son is there, and maybe this might help protect him.”

Oh, what do we understand about anything?  

Amit loves trout fishing... horses... he did read The Trout (p. 35) .

We could have continued all day listening to him.

Thank you Amit!

 

April 6 -- line up with special guest Amit Dahiyabadshah

First of all, for everyone who has been attending by zoom for the last two years, we all owe a HUGE THANK YOU to

Elaine Richane!  She has faithfully kept the zoom channel open, and I only just found out, that should she wish a break… well… she hasn’t taken one, out of loyalty to be able to contribute to the weekly availability of the sharing of poems .

Her response: "it has been my pleasure to provide my Zoom account for such an awesome group of poetry lovers."

Happy Poetry Month 2022!

    

This session will discuss the first 5 poems  in-person  before Noon, when  Amit Dahiysbadhhsh will arrive. The zoom meeting will end at 12:40,  and be dedicated to his reading, so the "usual" poem discussion by zoom of the 5 poems may not take place. 

"Beannacht" by John O'Donohue (Blessing)

The Importance of Elsewhere by Philip Larkin

Chimney Sweep Apprentice by David Mills

Knuckles of Smoke: Peggy  by David Mills

Pray for Peace by Ellen Bass

Maternal Dusk, the Paternal Light: Celebrate the Lightness of  Being by Amit Dahiyabadshah

 Last Will and Testament of the Tiger by Amit Dahiyabadshah

See  picture of Amit with Tiger paint on his face for the book launch from November: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pD6R0HfUFSM  : go to minute 9:19 to hear him sing his own tongue. 

At minute 16, he explains the Urdu term, Iltija for begging[1] and reads this beautiful poem

where the cupped hand waiting to give, and the bowl of the hand waiting to receive create a sacred mudra of two imperfect parts. When a single rice grain performs, it ends a famine between us, this empty aching.

 

Ted Talk:  https://www.pw.org/content/amit_dahiyabadshah_0— Poetry that makes you think… 

Amit, the Tiger poet… founder of Poetree, guardian of a language, a tiffin carrier from the past that is present, that is India and India’s gift to the English language.  “… writer of half poems that depend on hi readers to be digested, completed, transformed: ‘for what is a poem but a throat/trembling/with a secret or sacred truth/and ann ear aching with/thirst for the utterance of that truth. Amit speaks in tongues. He is “wordwine,” a vintner, a blender, a metaphor-wielder and master of “the sun-soaked slowly ripened phrase.”  He carries the English and Indian English vocabulaires in his mind and heart, and writes them in breathtakingly honest lyrics.”

From the Foreword  to The Tiger Poet by Indran Amirthanayagam

 

To hear more of his beautifully incantatory voice: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wpQH4fcJguQ 

 you can hear Amit read Delhi (p. 6), The Last Testament of the Tiger (p. 25) and The Terror of the Rice Tin (p. 44).  

 

The page numbers refer to his book, The Tiger Poet

available from Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Tiger-Poet-New-Selected-Poems/dp/B09MGB232B

 

I have invited  Amit to speak on 4/6  about the first section  of his book“ Meet the Tiger Poet”; p. 5: Transition: leaving the village of farmer soldiers to become an urban poet:

“A last farewell to the things I knew… words fade to nothing /as the cows come home/and the things I don’t know yet

softly dust sunset.”  explain a bit about how his language is an oral tradition he  has written down.  The Maternal Dusk, the Paternal Light: Celebrate the Lightness of Being p. 82— and Last Testament p. 25

 

If there is time:  “Terror Poems Medley” —(2nd part of book): I have asked how he received the idea  of “terror poems” —what that means to him  (in the back of my mind, other poets have used this idea);  see above and the Preface p. 42 (Terror as that perception between dark and light, awareness of a thousand shades of gray in human existence) and Terror of the Ripening Mango p. 43. and Terror of the Rice Tin p. 44.  

 

from the 3rd part of the book: The Trout p. 35; Moon Drenched in Gulmarg, p. 89 ; Here and Now p. 98

---

[1] for a glance at the complexity of Hindi-Persian language: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Persian_and_Urdu

Paul's comments: "moved by your selections for Wednesday,  I wondered what moved you to focus (in) on gritty and gutsy reality in those choices.  We, O  peners, are quite used to ethereal, internal, hidden and often tortured thoughts of modern poetry.

    Here is earthy stuff, stuff you can feel, smell, touch, hear, taste. There is pain and it is real.

There is flame and hot, iron pots and sweat on upper lips. There is creosote and dirt and bricks and black bread and...imagine, knuckles of smoke !

    It goes on with Ellen Bass .....religious pain, religious symbols, religions, buses, money, 

movies, ATMs, eating and drinking, carrots and onions, hawks, wolves, whales, prayers, voices, water and choirs. So, everything we see or do or hear, each breath, each belief, is a prayer as we make our way, even a stumble in the street.

    So much is physical in these poems, so much to actually grasp and turn and ponder.

Poetry Oasis: April 7

The first five poems  are from Poets Walk 

When I am a Tree by Susan Deer-Cloud

City Trees by Edna St. Vincent Millay

The Emancipation Proclamation by William Heyen

Going North by Anthony Piccione

Look at the Trees  by Kitty Jospé

Winter Landscape by Judith Kitchen

Flip Book by Anthony Leuzzi

October, by Jim Jordan

**

"Beannacht" by John O'Donohue (Blessing)

Maternal Dusk, the Paternal Light: Celebrate the Lightness of Being by Amit Dahiyabadshah 

We are  celebrating several things!  

National Poetry Month;  (The month of April) 

 Earth Day 2022; This year, it falls on April 22 with the  theme 'Invest In Our Planet’;

National Arbor Day:  April 29, 2022. This year marks the 150th anniversary of the tree planter's holiday.

The idea of hanging poems"  came from having seen the announcement for Fairport's “Poet-Tree” 

https://spectrumlocalnews.com/nys/rochester/human-interest/2021/04/15/check-out-the-poet-tree-experience-along-the-erie-canal-in-fairport