See Barb’s collaborative book, Left Behind, with photographs by her nephew and her poems. In this interview, she reads “Screened Back Porch” (p. 51)
Poems:
Octavia Butler excerpt from from Parable of the Sower (1993) — the first part of her oracular Earthseed allegory —
Lucky by Carl Dennis
Camouflage by Katie Kemple - ekphrastic response to painting, El Camino de Esmeralda, Danelle Rivas.
September 1, 1939 by W. H. Auden
Graduation Speech by Charles W. Pratt
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Octavia Butler: Judith filled us in on her bio, as first black woman science fiction writer. As noted, the words came from her 1993 masterwork, Parable of the Sower, the first part of her oracular Earthed allegory.
These 8 lines, in 4 couplets, each containing the word, change, (and the second stanza containing it twice!) gave rise to a discussion that covered big bang theory, advice for solid social interaction, and all manner of how life works. Paul suggested from a philosopher's point of view, it might be good to start with the 3rd couplet. He quickly followed with, "I have change in the pocket. God's in my pocket too".
Martin promises to send a poem in his head that embraces the idea that reality is something that always existed and the linking of the way nature works with the complex diversity of life...
Group advice: Imagine if indeed, we aimed to "touch" each other, not just physically, but emotionally.
It would be good if we all try to read about someone who doesn't ressemble us.
It reminded Judith of Understood Betsy A great model of how to make a confession, that becomes a portrait of a beloved object.
Lucky by Carl Dennis. We enjoyed the tone blending a touch of sarcastic irony and great tenderness in this personnification of a car and the poets "ode" to it. It reminded Bernie of the story of the Chinese farmer and how events might be interpreted as fortunate or misfortunate. https://www.craftdeology.com/the-story-of-the-chinese-farmer-by-alan-watts/. It reminded reminded Judith of Understood Betsy.
A great model of how to make a confession about oneself, through a portrait of a beloved object.
I give the story away here... the poem brings it to life and brought us all howling!
How lucky... no one hurt and the car made no accusations... and what a patient car, although we all agreed, no car is ever where you think you left it... No need to apologize to the car for the mangled state after the accident, the frugal treatment. What a trusting car, thinking you are the protector, never
suspecting that the real danger was the owner.
Camouflage by Katie Kemple: This reminded Bernie of Michael Pollan's work which looks at the power of psychedelics for treatment: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/How_to_Change_Your_Mind
It reminded Judith of Ruddigore. We could find all the objects mentioned, and I especially loved the chopsticks (final word) pinching a dumpling, illustrating this idea of how to cope with images. Why the title? Perhaps the poet thinks
she is creating her own biographical effigy of herself and this "covers up" the who she is. The note doesn't give us a clue to the title, only to the poet's attraction to the painting, and how it seemed "a hand of it all, kept painting to keep the images in frame".
Poem prompt: How does it feel to be an image in a painting?
September 1, 1939: There is quite some background about this poem, where each thought is a sentence, each sentence a stanza, and as Judith remarked, filled with rhyme and the strong beat of the rhythm ressembles a hunting poem. She compared the rhythm to Siegfried Sassoon, Does it Matter. https://englishverse.com/poems/does_it_matter and brought up Orwell and term, "smelly orthodoxies".
We spoke of the power of the memory of dates, like Dec. 7 as Pearl Harbor day, 9/11 and the twin towers, and here, the date Hitler invaded Poland. In this poem, it feels as though it is as pertinent now, as then. The choice language to describe the feel of "uncertain and afraid/ as clever hopes expire" of a low dishonest decade... is memorable. "vain/Competitive excuse" of each language;
"the windiest militant trash, Important Persons shout"... as we cling an "average day". Rose Marie spoke of a discussion about a book about Chile, Pinochet, Allende... how no one spoke really of this
as point of concern, and example of "Collective man" and "international wrong".
Yes... we crave, not universal love, but "to be loved alone"-- our own egotistical sense of survival.
And how to undo the folded lie, so neatly, romantically folded by "Authority"? "We must love one another or die". Elaine O. brought this up as crux of the poem, and our one hope . Kathy brought up the wording, not "or die" but "and die". Auden decided that this line about love and death was untruthful; he remarked, in public and in private, that we are all destined to die, whether or not we love each other. It takes only a moment's reflection to recognize this as a misinterpretation of the line's actual meaning. When I read the last 5 lines, what is "dotted everywhere, flashing out in ironic points of light wherever the Just/Exchange their messages", I read it with a question mark. "May I show an affirming flame" (as in, can I? or have I a right or courage to) as opposed to the imperative overtone of "Let me".
Beleaguered by the same negation and despair, composed of Eros and Dust... what message would you propose?
Kathy proposed this fine You Tube reading of the poem Auden 9.1.39 youtube reading by Michael Sheen.
Graduation Speech by Charles W. Pratt. Garrison Keilor on Writer's Almanac posted this poem on June 23, 2011. I believe this is his biography: https://paw.princeton.edu/memorial/charles-w-pratt-’56
Certainly with a background of Philips Academy and Princeton, returning to Philips to teach English, he saw plenty of commencement addresses. (Judith reminded us, that "graduation" used to be called "commencement -- the beginning or start after the schooling... a subtle but important difference of implication.
(2010) This poem comes from the last section, "Uncollected Poems" of his book, From the Box marked Some Are miSSing
Charles W. Pratt: https://www.spdbooks.org/Content/Site106/FilesSamples/9780980167283.pdf
Delightful metaphor of baking bread... and when is a loaf done... and how to enjoy the zen of loafing?
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