Poetry in Motion (Johnny Tillotson)

Sadly, today is the last day of National Poetry Month.  Joyfully, I was able to post almost every day (although there were a few blips along the way).  I urge you to explore more, discover more, enjoy more poetry... whether it's haiku, free verse, sonnets, cinquains, villanelles, sestinas.  Find what you like, and then read more of it. Don't make it a lesson, appreciate it as a pleasure.  Feel free to share one of your favorite poems in the comment section below and, if you wish, give the backstory of how you it came on your radar and why it "speaks" to you... 💓

It is indeed Feel Good Friday.  As is tradition, five items below of beauty, interest, and humor (all poetry-related) to brighten your day/weekend/week.  Enjoy! 

~ Poetry & the Creative Mind 2021:  Celebrating 25 years of National Poetry Month:  We are thrilled to welcome an incredible lineup of readers, including Meryl Streep, Elizabeth Alexander, Lauren Ambrose, John Darnielle, Terrance Hayes, Regina King, Delroy Lindo, Samin Nosrat, Sandra Oh, Jason Reynolds, Sarah Sze, and more. [Watched and listened to this phenomenal program last night, alternately weeping and smiling!]

~ This Is Why You Should Write Poetry, no matter what kind of writer you are:  Poetry is a shortcut from heart to heart.  “The only thing that can save the world is the reclaiming of the awareness of the world. That’s what poetry does.” — Allen Ginsberg

~ Our modern obsession with poetry is only growing:  Outlining the popularity of the Instagram poet:  Given the recent mainstream popularity of poets like Rupi Kaur, it’s no secret that there’s been a poetry revival over the last few years. Poems are no longer only read by aspiring writers, English majors, and souls who find refuge in words. They’re being circulated to the masses.

~ Do You Have a Favorite Poem?:  Her name was Charlotte, and she was part of my mom’s book club. When I complimented her straw hat one afternoon, she invited me over for “tea and a poem.” My mom, of course, made me go. At first, I dreaded it. All my friends were selling Girl Scout cookies, and I was hanging out with Chaaaaarlotte. (573 comments, most of them offering up exquisite poems, many of them new to me... ❤)

~ When the Doctor Prescribes Poetry:  “This crisis affects more or less everyone, and poetry can help us process difficult feelings like loss, sadness, anger, lack of hope.”

SONG:  Poetry in Motion by Johnny Tillotson

BOOK:  Poetry Rx: How 50 Inspiring Poems Can Heal and Bring Joy To Your Life by Norman E. Rosenthal

POEM:  Mugged by Poetry by Dorianne Laux

—for Tony Hoagland who sent me a handmade chapbook made from old postcards called OMIGOD POETRY with a whale breaching off the coast of New Jersey and seven of his favorite poems by various authors typed up, taped on, and tied together with a broken shoelace. 

Reading a good one makes me love the one who wrote it,

as well as the animal or element or planet or person

the poet wrote the poem for. I end up like I always do,

flat on my back like a drunk in the grass, loving the world.

Like right now, I'm reading a poem called "Summer"

by John Ashbery whose poems I never much cared for,

and suddenly, in the dead of winter, "There is that sound

like the wind/Forgetting in the branches that means

something/Nobody can translate..." I fall in love

with that line, can actually hear it (not the line

but the wind) and it's summer again and I forget

I don't like John Ashbery poems. So I light a cigarette

and read another by Zbigniew Herbert, a poet

I've always admired but haven't read enough of, called

"To Marcus Aurelius" that begins "Good night Marcus

put out the light/and shut the book For overhead/is raised

a gold alarm of stars..." First of all I suddenly love

anyone with the name Zbigniew. Second of all I love

anyone who speaks in all sincerity to the dead

and by doing so brings that personage back to life,

plunging a hand through the past to flip off the light.

The astral physics of it just floors me. Third of all

is that "gold alarm of stars..." By now I'm a goner,

and even though I have to get up tomorrow at 6 am

I forge ahead and read "God's Justice" by Anne Carson,

another whose poems I'm not overly fond of

but don't actively disdain. I keep reading one line

over and over, hovering above it like a bird on a wire

spying on the dragonfly with "turquoise dots all down its back

like Lauren Bacall". Like Lauren Bacall!! Well hell,

I could do this all night. I could be in love like this

for the rest of my life, with everything in the expanding

universe and whatever else might be beyond it

that we can't grind a lens big enough to see. I light up

another smoke, maybe the one that will kill me,

and go outside to listen to the moon scalding the iced trees.

What, I ask you, will become of me?

QUOTE(S):  "All my life I have tried to save some part of my time for the inspiration which the poets give." ~ Newton D. Baker

"Then let us ask poetry to portray us as we are, our times, our ways of life. Who but our poets can give these supreme word-pictures to our descendants? How shall these children of our children visualize our era if our poets are silent? Through the cold, factual lines of historians? The limited dimensions of painters, sculptors and musicians? The poet is all and more than these." ~ Marie Bullock

Inside Your Painting (Patty Larkin)

[ Plumbing update: As promised, my husband is now home dealing with the situation - LDG (Leak Detection Guy/Kenny) has already come and determined the leak is now to the *left* of where originally determined (closer to the shower, as opposed to under the vanity). Al (not Joe)the plumber should be coming out later to re-evaluate the two options (see post of a few days ago), at which point we'll determine which route to take - long story short: sounds as if I'll be getting a new bathroom out of this, whether we or homeowners insurance pay. Relate, relax, release - more tomorrow... ]

I don't consider myself an artist per se (yeah, I make a h*lla mix tape/CD... and amazing soups... and inventive collages, oh my!), but I do seem to be surrounded by those who are... and take delight in recognizing their gifts and paying them forward - today's blog post is dedicated, with sincere gratitude, to all those friends (old and new) who open my eyes, color my world and provide the soundtrack to my rich and delicious life... <3

Daily Om
October 15, 2008
Sharing Your Genius
Your Special Gift

Each of us is born with a specific genius that was bestowed upon us so we can do our part to make this world a better place. All of us have a role that we’re uniquely suited for. Imagine our planet without trees, oceans, or clouds. In this same way, when one of us doesn’t develop or use our special gift, a cosmic void takes place.

This unique talent or ability may be hidden from your own sight like a golden treasure buried under shifting sands. Often, we spend so much time dazzled by the talents of others that we can overlook our own gifts. It may even be that our unique ability is something we view negatively. Perhaps we find it difficult concentrating on any one subject for long; meanwhile, others are thrilled by our ability to weave various ideas throughout our conversations. Or, you might think of yourself as “frivolous,” when it’s likely your charming approach to life casts a light of inspiration that others can’t help but follow. It’s important for all of us to try to find our special gift and discover how we can best express it. Ask others to name what they think is your most overlooked talent or character trait. Their answers may change your life.

Explore these riches that are yours to express, and you may find yourself helping others discover and develop their own blessings. Acknowledge and appreciate the gifts you see in those around you. Tell your neighbor that loves to garden how much her green thumb enlivens the whole block. Thank your coworker for always greeting your days together with a smile. Tell your close friends that their ability to listen makes your world a better place. Our unique gifts are like golden rays of expression that can encircle the world with light.

SONG: Inside Your Painting by Patty Larkin

BOOK: Learning to Love You More by Harrell Fletcher, Miranda July

POEM: Instructions to Painters & Poets by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

I asked a hundred painters and a hundred poets
how to paint sunlight
on the face of life
Their answers were ambiguous and ingenuous
as if they were all guarding trade secrets
Whereas it seems to me
all you have to do
is conceive of the whole world
and all humanity
as a kind of art work
a site-specific art work
an art project of the god of light
the whole earth and all that's in it
to be painted with light

And the first thing you have to do
is paint out postmodern painting
And the next thing is to paint yourself
in your true colors
in primary colors
as you seem them
(without whitewash)
paint yourself as you see yourself
without make-up
without masks
Then paint your favorite people and animals
with your brush loaded with light
And be sure you get the perspective right
and don't fake it
because one false line leads to another

And then paint the high hills
when the sun first strikes them
on an autumn morning
With your palette knife
lay it onthe cadmium yellow leaves
the ochre leaves
the vermillion leaves
of a New England autumn
And paint the ghost light of summer nights
and the light of the midnight sun
which is moon light
And don't paint out the shadows made by light

for without chiaroscuro you'll have shallow pictures
So paint all the dark corners too
everywhere in the world
all the hidden places and minds and hearts
which light never reaches
all the caves of ignorance and fear
the pits of despair
the sloughs of despond
and write plain upon them
"Abandon all despair, ye who enter here"

And don't forget to paint
all those who lived their lives
as bearers of light
Paint their eyes
and the eyes of every animal
and the eyes of beautiful women
known best for the perfection of their breasts
and the eyes of men and women
known only for the light of their minds
Paint the light of their eyes
the light of sunlit laughter
the song of eyes
the song of birds in flight

And remember that the light is within
if it is anywhere
and you must paint from the inside
Start with purity
with pure white
the pure white of gesso
the pure white of cadmium white
the pure white of flake white
the pure virgin canvas
the pure life we all begin with

Turner painted sunlight
with egg tempera
(which proved unstable)
and Van Gogh did it with madness
and the blood of his ear
(also unstable)
and the Impressionists did itby never using black
and the Abstract Expressionists did it
with white house paint
But you can do it with the pure pigment
(if you can figure out the formula)
of your own true light
But before you strike the first blow
on the virgin canvas
remember its fragility
life's extreme fragility
and remember its innocence
its original innocence
before you strike the first blow

Or perhaps never strike it
And let the light come through
the inner light of the canvas
the inner light of the models posed
in the life study
the inner light of everyone
Let it all come through
like a pentimento
the light that's been painted over
the life that's been painted over
so many times
Let it all surge to the surface
the painted-over image
of primal life on earth

And when you've finished your painting
stand back astonished
stand back and observe
the life on earth that you've created
the lighted life on earth
that you've created
a new brave world

QUOTE: "To send light into the darkness of men's hearts - such is the duty of the artist." ~ Robert Schumann

The Waa-aaa-iiiit-ing (Tom Petty)

Okay... I'm at Kinko's again - took off work at 1 this afternoon to be home for my scheduled AT&T appointment. Fought with people in India three times, who told me there was a miscommunication and they'd have to reschedule to *Sunday* - then someone showed up at 7 p.m., only to tell me the problem was not inside, but outside (duh - that's what my computer consultant told them last night!). Trying to breathe - meeting friends at a local bar to hear another friend's new trio. Think I'll have a drink... or three - knock on wood, all will be fixed tomorrow between noon and 7 p.m. This is a test, this is only a test - ack!

SONG: The Waiting by Tom Petty

BOOK: Taming the Tiger Within: Meditations on Transforming Difficult Emotions by Thich Nhat Hanh

POEM: I am Waiting by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

I am waiting for my case to come up
and I am waiting
for a rebirth of wonder
and I am waiting for someone
to really discover America
and wail
and I am waiting
for the discovery
Of a new symbolic western frontier
and I am waiting
for the American Eagle
to really spread its wings
and straighten up and fly right
and I am waiting for the Age of Anxiety
to drop dead
and I am waiting
for the war to be fought
which will make the world safe
for anarchy
and I am waiting for the final withering away
of all governments
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder
I am waiting for the second coming
And I am waiting
For a religious revival
To sweep thru the state of Arizona
And I am waiting
For the grapes of wrath to stored
And I am waiting
For them to prove
That God is really American
And I am waiting
To see God on television
Piped into church altars
If they can find
The right channel
To tune it in on
And I am waiting
for the last supper to be served again
and a strange new appetizer
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder
I am waiting for my number to be called
and I am waiting
for the Salvation Army to take over
and I am waiting
for the meek to be blessed
and inherit the earth
without taxes
and I am waiting
for forests and animals
to reclaim the earth as theirs
and I am waiting
for a way to be devised
to destroy all nationalisms
without killing anybody
and I am waiting
for linnets and planets to fall like rain
and I am waiting for lovers and weepers
to lie down together again
in a new rebirth of wonder
I am waiting for the great divide to be crossed
and I anxiously waiting
For the secret of eternal life to be discovered
By an obscure practitioner
and I am waiting
for the storms of life
to be over
and I am waiting to set sail for happiness
and I am waiting
for a reconstructed Mayflower
to reach America
with its picture story and TV rights
sold in advance to the natives
and I am waiting
for the lost music to sound again
in the Lost Continent
in a new rebirth of wonder
I am waiting for the day
that maketh all things clear
and I am waiting for retribution
for what America did to Tom Sawyer
and I am waiting
for the American Boy
to take off Beauty's clothes
and get on top of her
and I am waiting
for Alice in Wonderland
to retransmit to me
her total dream of innocence
and I am waiting
for Childe Roland to come
to the final darkest tower
and I am waiting for Aphrodite
to grow live arms
at a final disarmament conference
in a new rebirth of wonder
I am waiting
to get some intimations
of immortality
by recollecting my early childhood
and I am waiting
for the green mornings to come again
for some strains of unpremeditated art
to shake my typewriter
and I am waiting to write
the great indelible poem
and I am waiting
for the last long rapture
and I am perpetually waiting
for the fleeting lovers on the Grecian Urn
to catch each other at last
and embrace
and I am awaiting
perpetually and forever
a renaissance of wonder

QUOTE: "One moment of patience may ward off great disaster. One moment of impatience may ruin a whole life." ~ Chinese proverb