A Portable Paradise by Roger Robinson; Algebra by Sarah Brown Weitzman; Circles by Nikita Parik (inspired by Tamil Poetry and an artwork entitled "Conflict Resolution"; Spring by Gerard Manley Hopkins; Fiction by Lisel Mueller; Why I Needed To by Richard Blanco;
We started the discussion Wednesday March 27, with announcements and news about members. Although we gather for poetry, this makes for powerful connection and fellowship. Mary shared this poem she wrote for her brother, Al, who just passed away, saying, these weekly gatherings gave her confidence to express herself .
us the "look" when we Arrive!
At the end, Alla recited a poem in Russian https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=--j8ZkFf1NU and translated it for us: (my rough translation: Mama's asleep, she's tired and I am not playing; I don't spin my top but sit down and stay there. My toys are silent. it's quiet in the empty room. A golden ray of sunshine is slowly creeping across her pillow. I would also like to move, do many things: read out loud, play with my ball, sing a song, laugh... But no matter what I want to do... Mama is sleeping and I am quiet. The ray of sunlight slides across the wall and comes to my side. It's OK, it says, We'll sit quietly together.
Nutshell of discussion:
A Portable Paradise: Starting a poem on "And" is always intriguing... as if stumbling into a conversation just in time to overhear someone's thoughts. Lovely alliterations, with soft kisses of "P", not just portable paradise in his pocket on his person, with its piney scent what will help him deal with pressure, meditate in an empty room (and three H's pop up with a ho-ho- ho Hotel, Hostel, Hovel) with a lamp... and "empty" becomes a verb... not a command to "empty your pockets" but rather, reconsider all we carry with us-- everything we love, memories, pour it all out on the desk. Perhaps for you it is mountains, and you "trace the ridges" in your pocket, or perhaps white sands, fresh fish and you can shine your lamp on your paradise like "the fresh hope/of morning." We all agreed, a perfect poem to remember what keeps us going, and no one can take it away from us.
Algebra: Although the poet does not mention the Arabic etymology, reunion of broken parts, indeed, Algebra helps us consider "problems of space and time". Fortunately we had Mathematician Minds in the group who had fun with the "Two trains" problem. We don't know the specifics of where they are, where they are headed and how, so how possibly could you decipher at what point they will meet? Many related to the problem of being called on in class, just when you were anywhere else but following the lesson. What seems to be important are the "what ifs" . A whimsical look at how we teach, how we enjoy the satisfaction of a formula... and how often a formula provides the satisfaction of finding answer. The Kingston Trio, "Morrow" https://genius.com/The-kingston-trio-to-morrow-lyrics (1960) song came up!
Circles: We all loved the powerful pull of this poem, and the unique Tamil technique of the Antati where the last word of a stanza is used in the first line of the next. Interesting that only two words are italicized, and also contained in the larger kernel of 6 lines, the "filling" so to speak between two sets of tercets. We all remarked how skillfully the final stanza echoed the first. It brought up associations of other songs and folktales which use enumeration, for instance in the tale of the turnip, https://storiestogrowby.org/story/the-giant-turnip-folktale/ or the jumprope song "Miss Susie ..." https://allnurseryrhymes.com/miss-susie-had-a-steamboat/
Spring: proposed by Judith, but sadly she wasn't there. Sprung rhythm, alliterations, spring forth the joys and energy of the season against a backdrop of religious references. Hopkins, as Jesuit Priest, was only recognized posthumously for his contributions to Victorian poetry and his idea of "inscape of speech". A beautiful rejuvenating sonnet with the one syllable "ing" rhyme (1,4,5,8) lengthening to the longer beginning, sinning, winning (10,12,14). If you have never seen the eggs of a thrush, they are indeed a vibrant blue-green-- "little low heavens" -- and how lovely that "thrush" as verb enjambs into the "echoing timber" without mentioning the word "bird song". Elaine mentioned how in Tuscon, AZ, if you have old tires in the yard, they'll just be that, and nothing will grow about them. Here, however, indeed, we have the joyful "weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush" !
Fiction: In two stanzas, we have a sense of a story of a couple, without ever knowing the story, rather like the poem Circles. Lush descriptions of spring "unrolling like a proper novel", then the odd arrival at complications. In the return trip, the use of maroon that goes wild, scarlet that burns... back to tentative pink skillfully paints this couple, who will most probably continue being distant, at odds with each other, and unable to start over.
Why I needed to: This poem skillfully handles enjambments, allowing paradoxical juxtapositions and surprises from the beginning "absurd" (gods of urgency); punished good deeds "leaving me " (empty)... because I praise hating", (self). What is in our internal inbox? If you "emptied it out", can you relate to the feeling of "empty"? We all appreciated the vulnerability shared, the sense of a mosaic that we all are, our fears, weaknesses, backgrounds. He paints his family: the mother "bitter", only to land on the next line with "sweet", the father mentioned after "bland"... the untold story in the "half" (stanza break) "moons of his eyes... his brother, at his death sharing "hurt at happy hour, so unhappily grateful for (stanza break) love's wreckage. He paints his husband, and grateful returns again, humbling... and "half" expands to "half the life" (line break) I have left. The repetition of "because" rolls over the ears like the very waves he describes at the end... coupled with the increase of sibilance, breaking and breaking. Read the poem, you will want to read it again and again, finding more and more.
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