National Poetry Month, established by the Academy of American Poets in 1996 begins tomorrow! This month-long celebration of poetry is held every April “to widen the attention of individuals and the media to the art of poetry, to living poets, to our complex poetic heritage, and to poetry books and journals of wide aesthetic range and concern.” During April, poets, poetry lovers, publishers, booksellers, literary organizations, libraries, and schools throughout the US celebrate poetry. One of the challenges of NPM is to read and/or write a poem every day. So ... in the spirit of the observance, I offer you an inspiration word or phrase and a related poem for each of April’s thirty days. You may wish to read, write, or do both. Keep in mind that writing a poem a day doesn’t mean that you have to “finish” each poem immediately. You can write a draft each day and set your drafts aside to work on later. As always, your posts are welcome!
Regular weekly posts will resume on April 28th for the first week of May.
In the meantime, I wish you a happy and poetry-filled National Poetry Month!
April 1 – April Rain
“April Rain Song” by Langston Hughes
April 2 – Waking
“Why I Wake Early” by Mary Oliver
April 3 – Parents
“Parents’” by William Meredith
April 4 – Spring
Spring is like a perhaps hand by e.e. cummings
April 5 – Memory
“My Earliest Memory” by Ray Gonzalez
http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2011/12/25
http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2011/12/25
April 6 – Change
The Moment I Knew My Life Had Changed by Maria Mazziotti Gillan
April 7 – Footsteps
“Footsteps” by Fanny Howe
April 8 – Easter
“To Him That Was Crucified” By Walt Whitman
April 9 –Magic
“Magic” by Louis Untermeyer
April 10 – Time
“In Time” by W. S. Merwin
April 11 – Motion
“Motion” by Octavio Paz
April 12 – Ego
“Ego” by Denise Duhamel
April 13 – Silence
“The Silence” by Philip Schultz
April 14 – Light
“The Secret of Light” by James Wright
April 15 –Dawn
“Dawn” by Robert Bly
April 16 – Love
“Salvation” by Rumi
April 17 –Words
“Words” by Anne Sexton
April 18 – Self-Portrait
“Self-Portrait” by Adam Zagajewski
“Lost” by David Wagoner
April 20 – Food
“Linguini” by Diane Lockward
April 21 – Morning
“Morning at the Elizabeth Arch” by Joe Weil
April 22 – Grace
“Grace’ by Linda Pastan
April 23 – Animals
“The Heaven of Animals” by James Dickey
April 24 – Wildlife
“The Bear” by Galway Kinnell
http://staff.psc.edu/schneide/Kinnell-TheBear.html
April 25 – Lightning
Blogaversary! Today (April 24th) is this blog's second birthday! My sincerest thanks to all of you who have visited, joined, commented, and shared poetry here!
April 25 – Lightning
“Lightning” by Mary Oliver
April 26 – Dreams
“It Was a Dream” by Lucille Clifton
April 27 – Promises
“A Deep Sworn Vow” by William Butler Yeats
April 28 – Landscapes
“Landscape at the End of the Century” by Stephen Dunn
April 29 – Birds
“Waxwings” by Robert Francis
April 30 – Peace
“Wildpeace” by Yehhuda Amichai
"One demands two things of a poem. Firstly, it must be a well-made verbal object that does honor to the language in which it is written. Secondly, it must say something significant about a reality common to us all, but perceived from a unique perspective.
What the poet says has never been said before, but,
once he has said it, his readers recognize its validity for themselves."
What the poet says has never been said before, but,
once he has said it, his readers recognize its validity for themselves."
– W. H. Auden
This is quite a challenge. I'm thinking I'll give it a try.
ReplyDeleteWONDERFUL, Laura! All the best to you. Please be sure to let me know how it goes!
ReplyDeleteI was born in April. Fate?
ReplyDeleteIn poetry, the writing is the thing that comes last. Much time for contemplation is required, which is hard to come by in this world.
~~~
The Work Of No Work
How this busy world conspires
Against the simple act
Of sitting quietly in a chair
With pen and paper in hand,
Writing down a thought or two,
Or not writing at all,
Doing the work of no work
That all poets must do.
Thanks once again for sharing a poem with us, Russ! Nice preface to the poem; and a concise to-the-point expression of those lovely moments.
DeleteAPRIL RAIN
ReplyDeleteShe will rise and hop
from her white
bedcovers.
On her way
she will bounce off the
evergreens’ needles.
She will slow her fall and
muse with the blossoms
of the dogwood.
But drop to
the earth,
she will.
No, it is not the cruelest of months
when rain soaks the earth and
wakes the seeds that wait.
© Basil Rouskas
Bravo, Basil! So glad you're "in" for National Poetry Month again this year!
DeleteLove your dismount on this one!
Thanks so much for participating and sharing!
Basil, I read all of your poems last year and enjoyed every one of them! Thanks for posting this one, and I hope you'll continue throughout the month!
DeleteJamie
Thanks to Russ, too, for sharing another poem! I hope you'll write a poem a day, Russ!
DeleteJamie
Adele,
DeleteThanks for your encouragement and for the dismount comment!
Jamie,
Good to hear from you. I remember your contributions and comments. It is a nice community when people revisit and "break bread" together over a cup of virtual tea and the music from poetry!
Basil,
DeleteWhat a perfect image: "breaking bread" over a virtual cup of tea! That's so how I feel about this blog! Many thanks to you!
Nice job on the story of spring with its haiku-like ending. It's the season of anticipation.
DeleteBob Rosenbloom
What a wonderful collection of prompts! Thanks! I'm planning/hoping/fantasizing about writing a poem a day. In fact here's my Day 2 limerick:
ReplyDeleteHappy National Poetry Month!
By Madeleine Begun Kane
April’s Poetry Month. Say “Hurray,”
As we vow to write verse ev’ry day.
But that promise is hard,
For this limerick-bard.
Cuz, alas, I have nothing to say.
Happy National Poetry Month!
Thanks for posting your limerick, Madeleine! Good luck with the rest of the month!
DeleteA fun limerick! thanks for posting, Madeleine!
DeleteJamie
Thanks for your kind words about my limerick!
DeleteIt is April Poetry Month and Adele's prompt is WAKING
ReplyDeleteWAKING
Spring’s waking
comes with higher sun angles
when brown buds
evolve to green translucence
and branches block
the light out of the April sky.
And I, still alone, block
memories of you
every time
I visit the river.
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
Oh! Beautiful! Nice "surprise" at the end. Bravo, and keep 'em coming, Basil!
ReplyDeleteToday's prompt from Adele is PARENTS.
ReplyDeletePARENTS
Dedicated to parents who started families and new lives in foreign lands
You dozed off on my arm
comforted as if on a pillow
of memory-foam;
"when I was
a toddler I remembered
the pillow of your forearm"
and I pondered our
fate away from the
city’s harbor to the grey
"memory of its
softness when the tug boats
pulled our ship to the"
open sea. Your father
in thoughts of the
money he’d need
"in unprotected waters
where the steel hull
cut the waves at an angle"
to feed himself, the two of us
and your sister -
then soon to arrive
"to make time to New York where
the ocean voyage ended and
the search for our new life began."
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
(Because only regular fonts are available for posting, please note this is a dialogue poem in which the second, fourth, sixth, and eighth stanzas are the voice of the child and have been put in quotation marks.)
Lovely, Basil -- such a strong sense of place and an even stronger sense of love! Thanks so much for posting each day (as you did last year)! Happy Poetry Month!
DeleteVery nice, Basil! There's a feeling of loss and separation that comes across strongly in your poem. The first and second stanzas are especially beautiful! Thanks for sharing!
DeleteJamie
Today is April 4th and Adele's prompt is SPRING
ReplyDeleteSPRING
Inspired by e.e. cummings’ poem “Spring”
I say spring is
more than the hand
that draws windows.
I say spring is
the pressure of
life emerging
at the birth canal,
vessels that burst
from roots to buds,
an unfolding giant
midwife,
an idea whose time has come.
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
Again – THANK YOU, BASIL, for posting your poem. Love the opening stanza especially!
DeleteWonderful, Basil! Thank you! Forgive me if I don't say thank you every day, but please know that your National Poetry Month poems are ALL much appreciated and greatly enjoyed.
DeleteJamie
Jamie,
DeleteThe sense that there are people like you out there who enjoy is more valued by me than anything else. No daily praise is needed.
Thanks for your comments,
Basil
I misquoted the title of e.e. cummings' poem in my posting of today- it should be "Spring is like a perhaps hand!" My apologies.
ReplyDeleteBasil
An incredible wealth of inspiration here (as there always is)! Thank you, Adele, and all who post their poems! Happy Poetry Month!
ReplyDeleteToday is April 5th and Adele's prompt is MEMORY:
ReplyDeleteFUTURE MEMORIES
One day, years from now,
you and I may revisit
this house
when others own it
and we will remember
our now
as our past.
We will be
older then
and we will remember
these now mornings
of low angle sunlight
and, with the sound of
Black River in the distance
we’ll set our breakfast
table again and the hawks
will still be flying high over
the forest and we
will cry with happiness
to acknowledge how
good of a life we’ve had.
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
Basil,
Deleteμπράβο!
ευχαριστώ πολύ!
Any chance of a poem in your native language -- that would be so interesting to see!
CHANGE is tomorrow's theme.
ReplyDeleteAdele suggested I share a poem in modern Greek. I found one I had written back in 1975, when I was writing mostly in Greek. It is about the mind-set of excessive safety that leads to resistance to change and eventually to decay. This theme is explored in the visual of a ship that chose the safety of the pier against the turbulence of the open sea... Here it is in the original and English translation.
Η ΣΙΓΟΥΡΙΑ ΤΟ ΜΩΛΟΥ
Αυτό το πλοίο
δεν πρόκειται να φύγει.
Καιρό τώρα έχει δέσει
τις άγκυρες
και στρείδια τρώνε
τα σίδερα της κοιλιάς του
στην ύπουλη σιγουριά του μώλου.
THE SAFETY OF THE PIER
This ship
is not sailing any time soon.
For a long time now
it's dropped
anchors
and barnacles
eat its steel belly
in the sneaky
safety of the pier.
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved.
THANK YOU, Basil! How wonderful to see the words in the original Greek as well as in English! (And a poem from 1975!)
DeleteA poem by GiuseppeCesaroPoeta ( wonderful name!)
ReplyDeleteSOLO LA PIOGGIA PUO'
Presenterò la poesia a un vecchio amico
che me l 'ha chiesto...
il tempo è volato via
e non ce ne siamo nemmeno accorti
E il mondo di oggi-caro fiume - ci appare estraneo
o forse mi sono perso
per cercare quel quarto d'ora di pubblicità
o tutti siamo finiti in una selva
con specchi storie
e solo la pioggia
può bagnare le lacrime di Marilù.
I shall present the poem to an old friend
Asking for it
Time has flown by
And we did not even realize
And today’s world – beloved river - seems strange
Or maybe I’m lost
Lookin’ for a quarter of an hour of advertising
Or we all finished in a forest
With mirrors stories
And only the rain
can wet the tears of Marilù
Yes, a wonderful name! And a very interesting poem! It's great to see the poem in Italian with the English translation. I love the phrase "today's world - beloved river." Thanks so much for posting, Jago!
DeleteJago,
ReplyDeleteI love your poem!
Basil
Basil and Jago - THANK YOU for your wonderful poems! This is what Poetry Month is about - sharing the "gifts." Thank you, thank you, thank you!
ReplyDeleteJamie
Jamie,
ReplyDeleteRemember the old story- if a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?
If you were not there with your postings, would our poetry be "heard"? Would our virtual tea room be always empty? Would we feel the energy we are now feeling?
So, thank you!
Basil
You're a gentleman and a poet, Basil! It shows in your work and in your comments!
DeleteJamie
Big ditto to Jamie's Comment! She's spot on!
DeleteAnd Adele's prompt for the 7th of April is FOOTSTEPS....
ReplyDeleteOMINOUS FOOTSTEPS
Tonight I hear his
footsteps closer
to home yet he skips
my door again.
I run to check
on my locks,
as if that would help.
But tonight again
he is after others
in town.
He marks them
discreetly at the library
among those who borrow
books on “How to plan
your estate in 5 steps,”
or “How to be healthy
and pain-free
in your 90’s,” or those
from bereavement groups
and those who frequent
toy stores at the mall.
All rights reserved
Basil Rouskas
Ooooh! An eerie tone that works really well! Thanks so much for posting, Basil!
DeleteEASTER is our prompt today.
ReplyDeleteWriting this from sunny Santa Monica, CA on the first day of our vacation.
GREEK EASTER
Father would not work this Saturday.
We’d go to church late evening
light our candles at midnight
in open air celebration
and chant about Christ’s rising.
And almost each year
fireworks by amateurs
singed the hair of the faithful
and father would get upset.
“He has risen from the dead”
we’d sing as we walked home
at the end of mass.
We’d form lines of flickering candles
in the dark April streets
as we and our neighbors walked home.
We’d mark a cross on the frame of our doors
from the smoke of our lit candles.
Then we brought them into the room
to light up our dinner table
and tasted mother’s mageritsa*.
And the men would rise early Sunday
and light a big fire and make
a bed of hot charcoals
and put the lamb of the spit
and drink wine with the sun’s rising.
And between turns of the spit
we ate mezedes**
and sipped wine
and told stories until noon
when neighbors, friends and family
would join us for the big feast.
And all these things are now gone.
But still this Easter Sunday
the earth has risen from the cold
and our children have been saved.
“Christ has risen from the dead!”
* Special Easter soup
**Greek appetizers
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
Alleluia, Bail! A beautiful remembrance that connects to the present. Happy Easter!
ReplyDeleteWhat an incredible poem by Louis Untermeyer, as a prompt for today's theme: MAGIC
ReplyDeleteMORNING WALK BY BLACK RIVER
And I walk the path
along Black River
as I have most mornings
for twenty years.
The river on its flow south feeds
the skunk cabbage in marsh lands
or holds on to the birches on the
steep drops to slow down
the trip and soften the
anger of Pottersville Falls
by the old Norwegian’s
cabin. And this morning’s walk
takes a turn I can’t explain-
No every-day living,
no cares, no duties,
no grocery lists.
I see boulders with new eyes
This one the size of an old clothing
trunk ( used by immigrants to bring
their households to America.)
This other one is a sharp edged model
of a math teacher’s cube. Another like
an ocean liner’s bow. A third like a soldier’s
tomb stone. Horseback Cherokee Indians
have now joined me. I walk,
they hunt deer and
live their lands before the ships from
Europe arrive in Plymouth.
And the river flows -like then-
and we, all of us,
work our way to oblivion
work our way to the open sea.
And the water defines us all
and we blend with salt and part
of us evaporates and becomes clouds
and then rain and then hillside flow
that rejoins the river
until our time runs out
and we stop looking for
identity: We are all and all is us.
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
Again! THANK YOU for posting so loyally each day, Basil! Great last line! I hope you're enjoying this as much as your readers are!
DeleteI appreciate your comments, Adele. Let's hear from some other poets - I know (hope) you are there!
ReplyDeleteBasil
April 10, 2012 and Adele's theme is TIME.
ReplyDeleteIT TAKES TIME
In time we all learn
to read lips on faces
before they speak
to hear silence
even when music plays
to see through old ideas
in new books.
You were the life of the party again
last night as you exchanged jokes,
laughed in carefree stances,
shared champagne glasses
from wandering servers’ trays
but never looked my way.
And on the way home
our silence told me
that I still need
time to learn how to
break the spell
you hold on me.
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
Thanks, Basil! This one has a haunting quality!
ReplyDeleteTHE MOVEMENT OF THE OCEAN
ReplyDeleteSummers of my impressionable youth
in that small seaside town
still stab my stomach with memories
of tourist trade, short term rentals,
foot prints of lovers washed by tides,
and quick lived love affairs.
And as I visit now - in my later years -
I can still I hear the waves
crash on the craggy shores -
but I am at peace the water
will still dance here long after
you and I are gone.
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
Nice, Basil! Thanks again for posting!
ReplyDeleteWhen I red Denise Duhamel's poem EGO for today's prompt I had a flash back in my early days in first grade. I admit I had to reflect with ambivalence on things that are so complex to balance for both the parents and the children: Building the confidence of a child, emotional intelligence,using the gifts of a child to compensate for injustices, bullying and the damage it can cause, envy, and just growing and learning from mistakes or sheer injustices.
ReplyDeleteNEW LIMITS
There was a risk
in the way she raised me
to let no social class barriers
cap her son’s confidence.
“There’s nothing you can’t do
if you put your mind to it.”
I learned to read
before school and
was the best in class
though I didn’t study hard.
I made no apologies
and flaunted my brilliance
to kids who couldn’t stomach
how easy it all came to me.
Until, outside our home, a group of them
took turns to throw stones
and spit at me running away
in laughter, with her after them.
The next day at school
the world was resized:
I had new limits that even mother
couldn’t redraw - although she tried.
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
So heartfelt and such a universally understood lesson. Thanks, Basil, for sharing this with us!
DeleteThe prompt for April 13th is SILENCE.
ReplyDeleteI am against the violent taking of life by the state. Executions for me are unnecessary, uncivilized and they don't restore justice for the wrong that has been committed. Please consider your position on the issue and I hope you will offer "your voice" to make death penalty a practice of the past. Most nations have abolished it, most states no longer do it. My poem below is offered in that spirit.
THE SEQUENCE OF SILENCES
It starts and ends with a silence.
The red phone in the death row
linked to the Governor’s mansion
stays silent and you know that your last
request has not been granted and you
don’t need your lawyer to tell you that.
And the deed must proceed, your veins prepped,
the gurney rolled in and the offer for your
final public statement made, before
the fluids flow and grant you
the final irrevocable
silence.
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
Chilling. Well done, Basil.
DeleteWendy:)
Basil! So interesting that the "silence" inspiration word sent your thoughts in this direction. Well done!
ReplyDeleteLovely blog, Adele. Packed with great poetry information. I came here by way of Margo Roby's blog. Chaucey is adorable.
ReplyDeletePamela
Thank you, flaubert and welcome! Thanks for the Chaucey compliment - he really IS adorable!
DeleteApril's 14th prompt is LIGHT
ReplyDeleteSECRETS OF LIGHT
She raves about the Santa Monica light and takes another sip of wine. She came from the northern country - Minnesota; “How do you like living here?” I ask. From her balcony she points to the Pacific Ocean, the pier, the sandy beach and the lights that come alive in the buildings along the shore. “It’s the secret in the light” she says.
In a poem I read this morning, James Wright ponders the secret of another light of perilous color - a woman’s black hair (real or of a statue?) - over the iridescent green banks of Verona’s river Adige. He wonders at the years of study before the craftsman could stroke the strange stone to bring out that secret light.
And I, Grecian by birth, have my own secrets with light (the Greek light) who must be a woman. She welcomes me back each time I return. The plane descends to land in Athens and she rises over the burgundy sea, and opens her arms to wave at me and I forgive her for all the lovers she has taken since our last embrace.
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
Thanks, Basil, for reposting this! I love that you've done a prose poem, and that you've personified the Grecian light as a woman! Great imagery! This one is glorious!
DeleteYes, this is a wonderfully luminous prose poem, Basil!
DeleteWendy:)
Strong notes and chords touched on universals- light, time, death, silence, place, aging, not gracefully, in a hard world. There's a short story by Bruce Jay Friedman about a prisoner with a last request to make before his execution. He asks for a dinner that will take about six months to prepare since the main ingredient is not in season. All prisoners should have this kind of request. I've read where the US gravitates towards the most repressive nations on this issue. I'm heading for the WTC memorial today. Silence and remembrance will be in attendance, as they are every day.
ReplyDeleteBob,
DeleteThanks for you many-layered poem. Well done!
Wendy:)
Thanks for your comment, Bob! And for yours, too, Wendy!
DeleteThanks so much for your comment, Bloom306! Silence and remembrance, yes -- your day at the WTC Memorial will be meaningful.
ReplyDeleteDAWN IN THE HEARTLAND
ReplyDeleteIn the endless flats
of this land I stand on
the tarmac of a small
regional air strip.
The outline of the small plane
faces the dim-lit eastern sky
and dawn starts to swim into
clouds of pink-yellow bands.
A man and a woman climb
the ladder and board the plane.
They both look east
where dawn greets the sun.
A new day begins.
The man throws the switch.
Basil Rouskas
April 15, 2012
All rights reserved
Very evocative and with a sense of the mysterious that makes the reader wonder if this is about the plane, the man and the woman, or something else.
DeleteAlways a pleasure to read your poems, Basil!
Jamie
Jamie,
ReplyDeleteThank you for your comments.
Basil
DAWN IN THE HEARTLAND
ReplyDeleteIn the endless flats
of this land I stand on
the tarmac of a small
regional air strip.
The outline of the small plane
faces the dim-lit eastern sky
and dawn starts to swim into
clouds of pink-yellow bands.
A man and a woman climb
the ladder and board the plane.
They both look east
where dawn greets the sun.
A new day begins.
The man throws the switch.
Basil Rouskas
April 15, 2012
All rights reserved
Lovely, Basil! I agree with Jamie's comment -- even the word "Heartland" in your title is nuanced with possibilities for interpretation.
DeleteTHE ACRONYM OF LOVE
ReplyDeleteL
For the life we share
O
For the orchids that perfume your breath
V
For the vocabulary, still poor to express my feelings for you
E
For the enemy I fight every day to not let our love be taken for granted
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
Basil, you're amazing! Poetry Month is a great time for you!
DeleteTomorrow is April 17, more than half of the poetry month gone - and the prompt is WORDS...
ReplyDeleteHONEYMOON WORDS
In the fifth morning of their
Caribbean honeymoon
“Do you still love me”
she asked checking
a new swimsuit in the mirror.
“Of course I do” he said
and rolled his finger down
to a new text message
on the screen of
his smart phone.
Their honeymoon suite
flat panel TV (on the mute mode)
silenced the words that
ran down the screen on
Heidi Klum’s face.
And they didn’t share
another word until their server
came to their breakfast table
to help them sort out the words
on their menus.
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
Just catching up this afternoon and really impressed with the interesting comments and poems. Basil deserves an award for writing every day two years in a row! Bravo, Basil!
ReplyDeleteI agree with you, Bob!
DeleteApril 18th is about Self Portrait...
ReplyDeleteDUAL SELF PORTRAIT
I have different stagings
in my two portraits.
In the first I will tell you about
the Greek light, the village
in the mountains I spent
my summers as a kid
and sea breezes through pine
needles on Greek islands.
in my English staging,
I will oblige with other details
including my MBA studies
the corporate deserts I have
traveled on camel backs
and my entrepreneurial ventures.
I have lived in the woods for the
last 20 years over a river, next to
a state park, away from civilization
except when I am on a Skype call
with Copenhagen, Sydney,
Athens and Jerusalem.
I am learning Polish on Primsleur
to surprise my wife
and the house cleaning crew.
Occasionally, besides deer
(our companions) we see wild turkey,
hawks, blue herons and - yes - black bear.
When people ask me how can I be
in the people business and live so far away
from people I just remind them that life is complex.
I listen to music Greek
(upbeat dancing or elegiac)
baroque, Beethoven and Bach.
I, lately, listen to Rachmaninoff’s trio in D minor
when I want to mourn unrecoverable losses
(that includes my college and military
service years.) Okay, let’s include
most of my corporate career.
I write poems now and then
(mostly in April)
take my self less seriously
and find myself concluding
more and more with
“it all depends”
I don’t like long esoteric poems.
I like to cry and laugh with easy poems
I like surprises
I like poems pointing to new paths
I am suspicious (and bored)
with commonly accepted wisdom (cliches)
In other words, I am a revisionist:
I see mailboxes as roadside deer ready
to dart across and hit my car
and other times I see doctors as executioners
and have a laugh or cry, depending.
If I had my life to live again
I would have made more mistakes
And you?
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
Wonderful, Basil! I especially love the last three lines! (Wish I lived in the woods - I'm sure it's magical!)
ReplyDeleteThe prompt for April 19 is TREES...
ReplyDeleteTREE WISDOM
They grow
roots in soils
that feed them;
we live in
ways that
kill us.
They seek light
and grow leaves
to catch it;
we seek love but,
when found, we build
walls between us.
They reach higher
and get stronger
with each annual ring;
Do we?
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
Love this poem, Basil! And I love your commitment. Kudos to you!
DeleteWendy:)
What an amazing month of prompts and poems! I'm enjoying reading the poem each day, as well as the poems posted by readers. Basil, you really do deserve an award for writing a poem a day! Lovely, Adele, thank you!
ReplyDeleteMáire Ó Cathail (Ireland)
Basil,
ReplyDeleteThank you once again! The comparison between people and trees, and the juxtaposition of walls and trees is so interesting!
This very strange poem is about Mahmoud Darwish:
ReplyDeleteTHE FIRST SCENE OF THE BOOK IS A FUNERAL
The burial scene / birth
and
early childhood - childhood as
paradise and aventure / learning to read and
write
the magic of letters first meeting with
poetry
The horror of Exodus the flight from the home village to Lebanon; childhood
tuns to
hell
Smuggled bach into Galilee
semi-ilegal life in Israel
chilhood memories of Gipsy
women
on the symbol of the Gipsy
dangerous moments and chance rescue
on waiting in airports 'nd the sense of
rootlessnes...
prison experiences of the
meaning of freedom
Struggle between myths and legends about the new Trojans
Palestinians?
in exile on autumn, autumn in Paris and autumn in life
on the meaning of exile / a praise to sleep and dreams / nightmares of
hospitales
on the meaning of homesickness and nostalgia / on the meaning of love...
the first visit to Gaza the the first visit to Jericho the first visit to Galilee the funeral of Emile Habibi.
al- Birwa (the destroyed home village the mother the visit to the
father's grave
THE FUNERAL SCENE
(the lines are from " IN THE PRESENCE OF ABSENCE" by Tezt Rooke, footnote 13, page 14,).
Obviously, the poem is by Jago...
A stunning poem, Jago! Thanks for sharing it with us!
DeleteA very visual poem with a slightly (just slightly) surreal quality. I find it hauntingly powerful, Jago. Thanks for posting it.
DeleteJamie
Haunting is a good word for this poem. It stays with the reader. Thanks, Jago, for posting it!
DeleteMáire Ó Cathail (Ireland)
VILLAGE FOOD MEMORIES
ReplyDeleteAnd my memory revives food scents
from the summer village where father grew up,
on the mountains of central Greece.
My cousin and I - on vacation with our mothers - would leave
the city by the end of June and joined family members
still in the village who raised flocks in winter and tilled the
fields in summer. Grandma still lived there
with one of her sons (uncle Costa) and his family.
Corn grew high and tasty on their fields and grandma
made an unforgettable fresh bread out of that corn.
My cousin and I would daily walk to the distant fields
away from the village. We stole ears of corn from the plants.
We lit small fires and barbecued them. We ate those corns
hot and salted before even noon time. We drank water
from the icy spring and... never got caught. On the long walks
back to the village we’d chew on last year’s crop from
grandma’s walnut trees, placed in our back packs by her
with some dried figs. Grandma who knew a couple of things
about growing boys’ appetites had our favorite things
ready for us by the time we got home. She’d bring out
her fresh baked corn bread and her goat skin case filled
with brine and cheese. She’d cut a chunk of the creamiest
feta cheese. Next to it, she would lay the homemade air-dried
sausage from the pork they slaughtered at Christmas.
It was made with orange rind, dried minty wild oregano from
the high meadows, garlic and chunks of fine pork meat in
aromatic spices.
It was from the hearth room so it soaked the fragrances
of hard wood fires, steaming soup pots and wafting fumes of
wine that grandpa made from grapes of vineyards villages
in the lower hills crushed into must by peasants’ bare feet -
wine without sulfites never made to be exported but drunk -
passed down by the gods of Mt. Olympus to the poorest farmer.
And so it was that in the midst of the creamy feta cheese from
the goat skin case, the fresh corn bread, the home made
air-dried sausage and even two small glasses of watered-down
wine, good enough for us boys of twelve, we filled our bodies
with food blessings, and our hearts with family love. We waited
for grandpa and uncle to come home from the fields.
We were happy.
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
So many memories ... I'm glad the prompts are calling them into your poems! Thanks again for sharing so much with us, Basil!
DeleteBasil,
DeleteIt seems as if your family and memories of your life in Greece provide much poetic inspiration for you. It's wonderful that you're able to channel your memories into poems. I've ordered your book from Finishing Line Press.
Jamie
Jamie,
ReplyDeleteI thank you for ordering my book. I know "it is in a good home"
Very best wishes,
Basil
Today's prompt is MORNING
ReplyDeleteMORNING IN SANTA MONICA
The morning crew
rakes the beach,
runners synch their
pace with I-pod beats,
and yoga groups warm up
on the lawns of Palisades Park.
The homeless wake up
on the benches of the
3rd Avenue promenade
and the ocean’s breath sprays
salt on the condos over the bluffs --
the city is coming to life.
Today, it is certain, someone
will have a facial at the Mall
and somebody else
may eat a meal in the streets.
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
Wonderful social commentary, Basil! The contrasts are striking!
DeleteJago - a great poem. Thanks for posting it!
ReplyDeleteOur prompt for April 22, 2012 is GRACE
ReplyDeleteAND THE EARTH EXITS GRACEFULLY
It looks we’ll soon be
close to the end of our
journey where it all began
-in Central Africa.
In the deep horizon
the snow capped
Kilimanjaro will lull
the animals to sleep
and there will be
a time of prayer
for the humans on
on the dying planet:
“Solemn vespers
of confession at these
pre-dusk hours
when the heart is heavy
but our spirit light
forgive our trespasses
we meant well.
Amen.”
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
Thanks once again, Basil! Eight days and poems to go!
ReplyDeleteApril 23rd and our prompt is ANIMALS
ReplyDeleteKANELLOS
He had a brown-cinnamon short hair
on a slim greyhound frame
a delicate snout, long patience,
and soft grey-blue eyes.
He would be with us in the
mountain village, eat from our food,
play with the kids
throughout each summer.
In the winter when the villagers
went to the plains to tend to their flocks
and Athenian vacationers
returned to the city
he stayed with the old
village woman and her son
- the monk - who was on a
sabbatical to take care of her.
The first winter after she died
and the monk returned
to his monastery
I - the naive tourist -
indulged my temporary
guilty thoughts but did nothing
of practical use and
I assumed the worst.
Yet, back in the states,
timidly in a letter, I asked
the natural question
and they wrote me he
was back in the village
with his human friends,
ate from their food,
and still played with the kids.
And so Kanellos spent his life
as a migrant family member
survived the harsh winters
in the plains and in the early summers
made his 19 kilometer trip back alone
to a spot in our backyard where I pictured
my grandma (50 fifty years ago)
would have fed him.
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
What a wonderful "dog story!" Such a profound memory!
DeleteI was so delighted when I had proof of his ability to survive... I now have so much more respect for the animals' abilities to survive. Yet, at the same time, animals are part of a frail ecosystem and you never know when their ability may be pushed beyond their limit.
DeleteYes, Basil, I, too, respect animals and their will to survive, but, like you, I acknowledge their frailty and our responsibility to protect and preserve the "lesser" creatures of our world. Thanks for your poem!
DeleteJamie
The prompt for April 24th is Wildlife. The poem painted pictures of a ferocious animal in all its glory and power. My inspiration came from different kinds of "wild."
ReplyDeleteTHE WILD AND THE TAMED
The wild West
was won
by cow boys
in high Montana skies
and shoot-outs
in whiskey saloons.
The tamed East
is being won
by unisex techies
in low Jersey skies
and tweets
from the Mall.
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
LIGHTNING is the prompt for April 25.
ReplyDeleteLIGHTNING STORM
Ben Franklin figured it out
when sparks on his kite string
flashed light on his key,
downtown Philadelphia,
and made him witness to the
first channeled lightning storm.
When masses of different moisture,
he said, rub on each other enough,
electrons swap homes, cells
change skins, and all it takes is a hair-line
conduit between them,
a kite string, to start the storm.
I never thought my last night’s question
would be that kite string, and
in my hillside cabin I drenched
in the wrath of your clouds
wondering if we’d make it
past the night.
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
Thanks, Basil! Such an interesting twist!
ReplyDeleteHappy Blogaversary to The Music In It. Here's a birthday wish for the blog:
ReplyDeleteprompt notes live on
call forth the music in us
as true harmonics
THANK YOU, VIOLET -- for the "Happy Blogaversary" and for your thoughtful and poetic wish! How very nice of you!
DeleteI nearly forgot! HAPPY BLOGAVERSARY, Adele! Thank you for all you do for poetry and for poets!
DeleteJamie
Happy blogaversary, Adele.
ReplyDelete5 earthworms, fellows in women and adventures
2 larvae of Cetonia, to cradle them into a flower
2 snails, one for me, one for you, my love
1 slug," a l' enterrement d' une feuille morte (*)
deux escargot s'en vont..."
1 centipede, running to you, with beating heart .
*** **** ***
(*) * Da " Chanson des escargot qui vont à l'enterrement "
by Jacques Prevert
P.S.
A teacher ,Laura (and I loved her, alas! ) gave me the idea for this little poem: it was just a list to make a terrarium for school kids, but it was so romantic...( for me, it's obvious). There's nothing really romantic in a slug!
Thank you, Jago! So thoughtful of you and much appreciated! I love the poem! Thanks again!
DeleteThe April 26th prompt is DREAMS
ReplyDeleteNIGHTMARES NO MORE
Those dreams were reports
of my life’s dilemmas.
They sneaked in my room
the cowards - when eye lids
got heavy and my defenses were down.
The same judges span the
same themes in the same direction:
Not enough time, no help
to get there, no one to share
the load, no resolutions.
I reach mother when her lips
have turned cold; I fly 4,000 miles,
bribe my way through the taxi queue
at the Athens airport so I can
get home to face a father
who’d rather welcome a tax collector.
When I fly back to my corporate job
in the States I miss my flight again
for want of a passport or traffic delays.
In short, my dream life has been holding
mirrors to me. Forced me to face
employers I didn’t respect,
colleagues I had nothing in common
except our names fed the same “lay-off” lists
I managed to stay off for 15 years.
But now, when I fall asleep,
my parents - too - sleep restfully
under the cypress trees
of the village cemetery.
We have said our last good bye’s.
There are neither corporate judges
to impress nor passports to be had.
The flights are on time
and there’s never a taxi strike
on my way home.
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
Another! Congrats to you, Basil, for writing every day! (The image of your parents is very touching.)
DeleteBasil-
DeleteCongratulations! What an accomplishment! Impressive for the quality of your poems, and the volume and consistency.
Wonderful!
Nancy
HAPPY BLOGAVERSARY to "The Music In It!"
ReplyDeleteThank you, Bob!
DeleteHappy Blogaversary, Adele! Thank you for two years of brilliant prompts and wonderful poetry info!
ReplyDeleteMáire Ó Cathail (Ireland)
Thank you, Maire!
DeleteMaire O Cathail, the number 100 comments is yours!
ReplyDeleteI have never seen something like this on other blog.
Adele, you are great!!!!!!!
Your readers also!
PROMISE is our April 27th prompt!
ReplyDeletePROMISE
When they got
the bad news at
the doctors’
she promised him
she’d beat it.
They made plans
for a second
honeymoon in Paris
that summer.
Now, every time
he sees Paris
he thinks of a
promise not kept.
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
Adele is right about this poem resonating for others. It made me think of my mom and the promises she didn't get to keep. Thank you, Basil!
DeleteJamie
And another! Basil, I'm really impressed with your dedication to writing a poem each day. I'm sure this one will resonate for many readers! Thanks so much for all the sharing!
ReplyDeleteThis blog always has so much substance, and this month in particular - the prompts as well as the comments! Thanks, Adele, and blog readers!
ReplyDeleteYES! You're so right, Bob's Mustangs!
DeleteCara S.
So much sadness conveyed without using the word "loss"-elegantly done.
ReplyDeleteBob
I agree with the two Bobs! There's always so much offered in this blog and Basil has outdone himself again this year!
DeleteJamie
LANDSCAPE is our prompt for April 28...
ReplyDeleteLANDSCAPE IN THE MIST
My landscape
is a misty meadow,
a tranquil lake
that reflects dreams
of a roving tribe,
a traveling theatre group
that performs by abandoned
wharves while the water
licks the ribs of the boats
anchored in the shallow port.
In the moist air, the costumes
for the evening show strive to dry
and the director puffs on his cigarette.
A sad accordion tune fills the air and
the actors sink more in their thoughts.
Our landscape is a low sky
in a locked land that shrivels
in self defense and the fog expands
to shroud the barbed wire
of our Northern border.
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
Powerful imagery and content! Only two more poems to go to complete National Poetry Month! Thanks again for your commitment to writing a poem every day!
DeleteWonderful again, Basil! Thank you!
DeleteJamie
It is April 29th and our prompt is BIRDS
ReplyDeleteBIRDS IN MY MIND
And I have seen the double-headed eagle fly high
in Byzantium’s black and yellow flag
building bridges over the Bosporus sea.
And later heard the wailing call
of lonesome loons over
New England’s lakes.
At the end of their long trip,
I relived the sailors’ jubilation at
the first seagull sighted by Columbus’ ships
and have been awed by
hawks that soar on high
thermals over Grand Canyon.
But I change paths when I sight the
blue heron on the rocks of Black River
alone, without his partner.
Basil Rouskas
All rights reserved
What a great "punch" at the end! It's hard to believe there's only one more day for National Poetry Month! You've really accomplished a lot, Basil! Kudos to you!
DeleteVery nice, Basil!
DeleteJamie
Thank you, Adele and Jamie, for your words of encouragement throughout the month. Your feedback, and that of other members of our community, has been greatly appreciated..
DeleteAdele, you have created a terrific resource for people who love to read or write poetry. My commitment is to be more active in it, not so much as a poet but more as a responder to some of the terrific works of poetry you are posting as prompts.
Your prompt for tomorrow, the last day of April, is PEACE. Here is my posting, not so much as a poem but more as a prayer. Mankind has so many weapons to destroy itself and the planet!!!
A PRAYER FOR PEACE
May we:
Praise fairness
Eliminate injustice
Acknowledge past wrongs
Cherish life’s sanctity
End wars unconditionally
Amen.
by Basil Rouskas
Basil,
DeleteHere's a HUGE THANK YOU for all the poems you shared with us this month and for your kind words!
Your poem (prayer) today contains the perfect sentiment with which to end this Poetry Month!
Thank you again for your wonderful words throughout the month and for your ongoing participation in "The Music In It." Your comments are always welcome, my friend!
I wish you all the best and, always, poetry to cheer you.
A hundred thousand 'Thank You's' for this month of poetry and sharing, Adele!
DeleteGo raibh maith agat! Iontach fad!
Máire Ó Cathail (Ireland)
Dear Basil,
DeleteDitto to your "Amen". We missed you last week!
Wendy:)
Thanks so much, Maire! It's really great to know that the blog is being enjoyed in Ireland!
DeleteThank you, thank you, thank you, Adele, for a great month of poetry! (And for ALL the fantastic prompts and sample poems that you post each week - your readers can visit to read, to write, and, ALWAYS, to enjoy!)
ReplyDeleteJamie
Thanks, Jamie -- I love doing the blog, and I really appreciate your generous feedback!
DeleteThis is my first visit -- you have an amazing blog!
ReplyDeleteHi Tabitha!
DeleteWelcome! Thanks so much for your kind words. I hope you'll visit often!