December 17

 Could That Be Me?  by Charles Simic[1]; McClures Beach by Sidney Hall Jr.,; Something about the Wind by Sidney Hall Jr.;  Genius of Stars and Love  by Richard Blanco https://richard-blanco.com/2013/11/tech-awards-gala/ -- Excerpts -- My Father's Diary by Sharon Olds; A Loud Death  by Richard Jackson;  How to Read Billy Collins  by Jeff Worley

Nutshell:

Although the first poem had been prompted by last week's discussion, this week, the title Could it be me?  was given space to come into its own.  4 lines, no information other than detail of what, lack of what and where.  It elicited a  funny story from Judith about a cat toy (mouse with a squeaking beep) found under her washing machine which needed fixing.  It continued to beep for 3 days in the trash.  I am sure we all could use these lines for Simic to elaborate on the Human Conditions!

2 poems by Sidney Hall:  They arrived as a pair in Writers Almanac and seem to be a good duo from Hall's book, Fumbling in the Light.  Whether or not you know McClure's Beach, the images deliver a cinematic effect — even if you have not seen the ocean, you can sense from the second stanza, not just a sense of "the end of the world", but the precious "sea silver" and all that comes to it -- either washed up on the shore, or wildflowers tumbling down to it. Those who have been there, provided beautiful descriptions and memories  https://www.nps.gov/places/point-reyes-mcclures-beach.htm

Mary read the second one, pausing after the second line, second stanza (and pointing it out to us). Although we did not discuss the title, indeed, reading about annoyance... about how human beings behave... "forgetful and unconcerned",  the  notion of wind bringing fresh air, how it works with waves washing the rocks brings a curative effect.   Axel brought up how a "sea cure" was like "prescription drug" in the 19th century.    Neil brought up his sleeping secret of 10 hours of  playing ocean waves. 

Richard Blanco: I gave excerpts, which have been used independently of each other, bolded to stand out from the entire very long poem.  Written in 2013, some detected perhaps a sense of civic duty as Blanco  National Poet Laureate unrolls the poem.  Is this poem an effective  tool for enlightenment, engagement?  Graeme pointed out the rather laborious use of metaphor.  Rick mentioned that his brother, an astronomer absolutely adored the entire poem.  Marna brought up the lovely kernel before the bolded last section with its emphasis on love as an action.  We noted the oxymoron, "shy wealth".  However each one absorbed it, hopefully each of us can reflect on the larger picture.  Polly offered a very humorous version of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, where "star" is totally disguised by latinate-sounding words.  On research I found quite a few variations of lyrics which instruct how to understand "the twinkling" and what a star is, perhaps unbeknownst to the 18th century originator of the lyrics! 

Sharon Olds: We enjoyed the capital printing, representing the  voice of the father which contrasted with  the non-capped, more lyrical  voice of the daughter.  When "Lois" appears, over and over, there was not only much occasion for comment, laughter, but also, the fact that Lois could be the compagnon of Superman!  The language supports in a subtle way the "blocks" of the father.  We can suppose many possibilities of the story behind both characters;  the emotional power increases with the last line with the universal wish to "be known", not only inviting empathy for the father, but also a heightened awareness of how important (and difficult)  this is for us all.   

A Loud Death  by Richard Jackson  -- Although we did not read or discuss the poem,  I wanted to bring the title and epigram.  Perhaps reading about this journalist, others might want to write an elegy for her.  Perhaps others might wish to examine whether  Jackson succeeds in his goal expressed below.  for full poem: https://poets.org/poem/loud-death

If I die, I want a loud death. I don’t want to be just 

breaking news, or a number in a group, I want a death

that the world will hear, an impact that will remain

through time, and a timeless image that cannot be

buried by time or place.

             —Fatima Hassouna, Gaza photo journalist on April 15, before her death on April 16, 2025 

The poet's comment: "My poem tries to be an echo for her warning, sounding from the far reaches of the cosmos to the smallest insect.” 

How to read Billy Collins:  This poem opened wide the doors of poetry and our expectations.  Is it impertinent?

Does it pay tribute to Billy, or trivialize him?  Certainly we recognize any poet's disposition to want to steal... but is that not a form of flattery to the one from whom one is stealing?  Or is one simply cloning oneself to an original and contributing to the boredom of a repeated trope?  The poem opened up the discussion about what expectations we have of poetry and how it changes with the times -- as well as our individual, subjective moods and circumstances.  

I read aloud Billy Collins, The Trouble with Poetry:  

https://allpoetry.com/poem/11281495-The-Trouble-with-Poetry-by-Billy-Collins

Bernie brought up Bukowski, So you want to be a writer: 

https://www.poetry.com/poem/58707/so-you-want-to-be-a-writer

Where is poetry headed?

No matter... if we read a poem, love it and want to share it, some sparkle of wit, pleasure, surprise is at work and this is to be celebrated.

We passed around Judith's delicious madeleines... and she recited King John's Christmas:

King John's Christmas Below one of Ernest Shepherd's inimitable drawings.  The you-tube is well-cadenced. 

 

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K1SO4hLmeDQ

She also brought up Nemerov's biting poem about Santa Claus: https://sacompassion.net/poem-santa-claus-by-howard-nemerov/

I ended by reading Alberto Rios : https://poets.org/poem/christmas-border-1929

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[1] from a wonderful collection of "Brief Poems" by Simic.  Thank you Kathy for reciting this one 12/10/2025. 

Poems for Dec. 3

 The Problem with Gratitude by Abby Murray; Flying Over West Texas by Billy Collins; Speaking Tree  by Joy Harjo; Spirit Horse Voyagers by J. Paul Brennan;  Prodigy by Charles Simic

To quote the Slow-Down,  the "we" in question is the group of of people who come together over almost 18 years where, once a week,  "we take a breath together and look closely at this world – its beauty, its aches, its small, shining moments, even in uncertain times"  as we read aloud mostly contemporary poems and discuss how they touch us.

No, trees cannot "walk" in the conventional sense, but the walking palm (Socratea exorrhiza) is a species whose unique stilt-like roots give the appearance of movement

The Problem with Gratitude.  I received this poem  the day after Thanksgiving this year.  Then, two days later it was published by Rattle Magazine where Poet Abby Murray explains: “I wanted to write about the weirdness of Thanksgiving: the debunked myth of mutual care between European colonizers and Indians, juxtaposed with the practice of setting aside one Thursday in November to be grateful (rather than making radical gratitude a year-long perspective). I wanted to wrestle with the conflict between violent history and nonviolent morals, hollow performance and genuine feeling. What I ended up creating is this portrait of thankfulness as an individual I may love and want to keep close, even if I am constantly failing it, then finding it again, like the imperfect self-parent that I am.”

In these times, I feel poetry can help us focus on the power of meanings behind the use of our words, slow down the fast-paced news headlines, the spewing of words attached to contradictory facts and actions.  We find problems especially when we have expectations perhaps.  The word gratitude has a special place in the over-use department where so many would be hard-pressed to be grateful for the struggles they face.  How, I wonder, can I feel grateful when I see the consequences of irrational, cruel and destructive behavior of world leaders?  

In our discussion, we admired how one word, Gratitude, took us into the world, holding both heart and mind.  We agreed that gratitude is best when it arrives unbidden, and feels like an unexpected blessing.  In 25 short lines, the poem provides  a sketch of Gratitude as a young child,  perhaps stubborn, with a touch of rebellion, a power to transform, as we notice things as fundamental as a heartbeat, a glass of water, seasons.  We picked up on the vulnerability of Gratitude as well as  its insistence on being independent of someone else's expectations.  The two adjectives inconspicuous (as a heartbeat) /insistent (as a sob), underline how we often miss what we could be grateful for, and upon realizing it, feel a sense of regret.  Some thought of attitudes of the Indigenous people facing European colonizers -- not knowing when being lied to, or knowing how to be refused.  

 I'm not sure if one person recommended this book in the context of Gratitude, or the next poem: https://www.amazon.com/Year-Live-This-Were-Your/dp/0609801945

 Flying Over West Texas... We wonder at Billy Collins' ability to cast a spell on us -- his wry humor that is so tender, able to delivers a gentle poke at people without putting them down.  Neil cited an Ed Hirsch article that calls Collins the "metaphysical poet with a funny bone".  He reveals the same sort of vulnerability as Gratitude in the poem above.   The poem does not ever directly reference the name Jesus, but only skirts religion with a neutral mention of "Christmas" which could be Christmas day or season.   The question came up whether appreciation of the poem might be limited to only Christian audiences.   Well, Buddhist, Jewish, Agnostic people present said absolutely not, even if you don't understand each of the contextual clues, it is clear what Collins is doing.  Perhaps Evangelical Christians might even take offense.  The parallel between the parched Little Town of Bethlehem and the desolate details of W. Texas plumped up with "waffle-iron grid of streets", a ruler-line running through the anonymous cluster of houses and barns, is the birth of hope and desire for "small miracles".  The mundane with the sacred continues with the incongruous shake out of a cigarette from the pack for a stranger, for a contemporary version of a miracle.  From there, a turn to a subtle message of anti-idolatry.  The final stanza returns us to the everyday gesture of flowers propped up by a grave.

This brought up the story of the flowers one can see by the train tracks of a tragic accident over 20 years ago.  "Better to fly over .. with nothing/but the hope that someone visit the grave.  His is never capitalized, nor Her.  Billy delivers a universal message that flies beyond a single religion.

I like Graeme's summary: his inimitable brilliance in turning evocative and compelling observations into beautiful philosophy, recognizing the common woman and even man.

We skipped III by James Joyce, as Paul brought in a poem that related to the next one, Speaking Tree.

Indeed, we could have spent the rest of the afternoon discussing trees, the ones that "walk", the tree savers, the importance of trees, the sense of physical hurt when one is cut down... literature about trees, such as Cherry Wilder's Trilogy,  and the Talking Tree, or Tolkein literature, and seed stoing.  We also could have  discussed at length Indigenous customs and respect for Trees, animals as spirit guides.  I had given a reference to another short poem by an anonymous Sioux/Chippewa translated by Frances Densmore in 1917 of the Dream of Buffalo announcing its appearance.  

Joy Harjo insinuates her native culture, and surrounds the reader with all five senses, and whether male or female, my guess is that she touches something primal in each reader receptive to a deep heartache at the thought of our endangered  land which supports life.  Without needing to spell out facts, or point fingers of blame, she moves to italics, which accentuates the dreamlike form of the spirit.  Last word, first line, unspeakable, then a geneology of the broken... followed by two images of aloneness:  A shy wind threading leaves after a massacre,//the smell of coffee and no one there.  The  final word undrinkable   is preceded by the imagination of these speaking trees all together, drinking it deep. Perhaps this is the counterbalance.  The trees show us the way.

To understand more,  consider reading her 2015 volume "Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings" which explores transitions, transformations, and the power of ceremonies in times of change.

Paul's Poem:

Spirit   Horse   Voyagers

 

            Fish dance at sunrise

            In the sacred waters

            Of the buffalo moon,

                          A solemn vision

                          Of spirit horses,

   Dancing feathers of the wind.

               Young and slow,

         The maiden of the lake

         A texture of the virgin,

                  Wakan Tanka[1]'s gift

          To the vision seekers.

 

                        —J. Paul Brennan

 

Paul suggested that the title be considered as three separate entities...

 

The Poet, Paul, with his poem read to us this 12/3/2025

Prodigy:  A perfect metaphor for what happens to us as pieces of a greater game.

Astronomy... math that provides elegant explanations, pure and useful.

Paint chipped off black pieces:  Victor Emmanuel in the 2nd WW.

Men hung from telephone poles.  Mussolini, his girlfriend, collaborators....

Blindfold... whether those in power, or the Masters of Chess... those without regard for humanity, and those who understand the complex beauty of the game.  Only a prodigy with his/her surprising brilliance can understand how to play blindfold, several boards at a time.   

Graeme sums up the poem succinctly: meticulous observation meets touching anecdote.

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[1] Wakan Tanka:  It is a central concept in Lakota spirituality, meaning the Great Spirit or Great Mystery, representing the sacred power that encompasses all creation. It is the universal life force and the interconnectedness of all things, which is both a single entity and a council of spiritual powers