National Poetry Month, established by the Academy of
American Poets in 1996 begins on April 1st! 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, as I’ve done for the past
few years, 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 you have to “finish” each poem
immediately. You can write a draft each day and set your drafts aside to work
on later.
And … if you write a poem that relates to an inspiration
word, don’t feel obligated to write anything that resembles the example poem in
content or style. Give the topic your own spin!
As always, your sharing is welcome,
so please be sure to post your thoughts and poems as comments!
Regular weekly prompts will
resume on May 4th.
In the meantime, I wish you a wonderful and poetry-filled April!
Happy National Poetry Month!
April 1
Fools/April Fools
“I’m a Fool to Love You” by Cornelius Eady
April 2
April
“Just Before April Came” by Carl Sandburg
April 3
Yesterday
“Yesterday” by W. S. Merwin
April 4
Confessions
“My Turn to Confess” by Charles Simic
April 5
Memories
“Momentum” by Catherine Doty
April 6
Dust
“Dust” by Dorianne Laux
April 7
Birds
“The White Birds” by William Butler Yeats
April 8
Wind
“Rhapsody on a Windy Night” by T. S. Eliot
April 9
Security
“Security” by William Stafford
April 10
Rain
“Song for the Rainy Season” by Elizabeth Bishop
April 11
Remembrance
“Remembrance” by Rainer Maria Rilke
April 12
Dawn
“Walkers with the Dawn” by Langston Hughes
April 13
Solitude
“Solitude” by Anna Akhmatova
April 14
Decisions
“The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost
April 15
Music
“Water Music” by Robert Creeley
April 16
Love
“Here and Now” by Stephen Dunn
April 17
Love Letters
My Father’s Love Letters” by Yusef Komunyakaa
April 18
Time and Space
“Theories of Time and Space” by Natasha Trethewey
April 19
Regrets
“Why Regret” by Galway Kinnell
April 20
Portraits
“The Portrait” by Stanley Kunitz
April 21
Afternoon
“Afternoon on a Hill” by Edna St. Vincent Millay
April 22
Truth
“seeker of truth” by e.e. cummings
April 23
Secrets
“The Secret” by Denise Levertov
April 24
Journey
“The Journey” by Mary Oliver
April 25
Prayer
“Prayer” by Jorie Graham
April 26
Blessings
“A Blessing” by James Wright
April 27
Callings
“A Calling” by Maxine Kumin
April 28
Gospels
“Gospel” by Phillip Levine
April 29
Spring
“Spring Comes on the World” by Emily Dickinson
April 30
Happiness
“Happiness” by Raymond Carver
Looks like I'm the first to comment (once again)! Adele, this is brilliant! Thank you so much for all the time and attention to detail that you put into this blog. Now we have a whole month of inspiration and examples to enjoy.
ReplyDeleteHappy Easter tomorrow!
Thanks so much, Jamie! Your kind words are much appreciated! Happy Easter!
DeleteNational Poetry Month is a real celebration on this blog! I love the prompts and all the wonderful poems that get posted in response. Thanks, Adele!
DeleteHere we are in another first day of April. I often connect in my mind April's Fool with the unpredictability of life and the kinds of games and paradoxes and dilemmas she offers.
ReplyDeleteI had just finished a meditation course with Deepak Chopra and it struck me how he emphasized the connection between the thoughts we send from our brain and how they are received and processed by the cells in our body. So, reading about all the financial problems in the world, I had a hard time processing the article, while staying positive and fostering the health in my body. I wrote this poem:
APRIL HEALTH DILEMMA
The meditation course,
I just completed, says
we create perfect health
by messages our
brain sends to cells
in our body.
So, now that I read today's
article in the Times, on
troubled countries,
Euro collapse,
US unemployment and
pending bubble bursts
what message, dear April's fool,
what message will I
send to my body?
By Basil Rouskas
WONDERFUL, Basil! Definitely a "message" for thought.
DeleteThanks so much for participating once again in National Poetry Month's poem-a-day!
Basil! So glad you're back!
DeleteI really enjoyed your 30 poems last year and look forward to this year's.
Thanks for your welcoming words, Jamie.
DeleteBasil
Hi everybody, good to be back and meet "old friends"
ReplyDeleteThere is such an immersion in poetry all around us every April. We need more poets and readers in the world.
B.
Great to have you back, Basil!
DeleteWhen I read Sandburg's poem I was in a world where the cold and miseries of winter had left and animals were waking up and the poet was getting in touch with nature all around him. And, suddenly, he is aware of all the diverse pulsating fauna, being different and apart from him. Yet, he is willing to consider them as people and leaves the door open to that idea at the end of his poem.
ReplyDeleteThe poem that took life from his image centered on my emotions from the loss of my cousin eleven years ago. Although the winter shock of his loss is gone, I am in touch with so many memories of playing with him and I am making space for these memories to emerge and be experienced with new eyes.
AFTER THE LOSS
We threw
our toys
into the ditch
of the gatehouse
road.
we outran each other
to the castle
and hid behind
its crenelations
and shot at the enemies.
We raced paper boats
in the stream
by the maple tree spring and
ignored
calls of our mothers
to dinner. Then,
unexpectedly,
you got up
and left us
for ever
and now
I can only see you
in pictures
your sister scans and
sends me over the Internet.
By Basil Rouskas
Thanks so much for including the "preface." It's always wonderful to know what a poet thought and felt in relation to the poem. It's wonderful, too, to remember and honor your cousin with such beautiful memories in words. Thanks for sharing it with us!
DeleteBravo, Basil! A great start to National Poetry Month!
DeleteI may not comment every day, Adele, but I'll be reading the posts and writing away. (I'm hoping that my wife will join in on some of the prompts.)
Rich,
DeleteThank you for your kind words! I am glad you are part of this community here on Adele's Poetry Blog.
Basil
OMG
ReplyDeleteI just passes a skeleton
of a cat on the sidewalk
I lied
OMG
I just lost the diamond ring you gave me
it fell down the sink
I lied
OMG
I lie and tell stories all the time
I must be a fool
all year round!
Thanks, Risa, for sharing! I love the funny/serious tone—perfect for the April fool theme!
DeleteIt is April 3rd, 2013 and the prompt is Merwin's poem YESTERDAY.
ReplyDeleteThis poem is such a heart breaker.
Who has never regretted lost time he could have spent with a parent? Or never felt sorry for something he could have given to a loved one who is no longer alive?
I have regretted so many times for both of these as I recall my relationship with my father.
I COULD HAVE
Taken time to tell you
each morning I counted
your steps fade as you walked
to work and I felt guilty
you had to get up so early.
Taken time to ask you
how in your early farming years
learned to read
and play the reed
on your own.
I could have asked you to tell me
how you built sheep folds of
stone walls and four sticks to hold
a roof made of cloth to care for
your flocks in the storms.
And I could have told you
— that when we lived in the city —
my favorite dream for years
was being with you on a
stormy night with a fire
inside the fold. I am scared
of the thunderstorm but you
tell me it is okay, put a log in
the fire and nod me over to rest
my head on your lap.
Inside the dream, I dream
you stroke my hair
and tell me you are proud
of me as your son.
And the rain stops and the night
turns to a morning of
mountain peace
and love that needs no expression.
The sun hits the earth with low angle
rays; the air is warming. We are happy.
By Basil Rouskas
What a beautiful way to honor your father's memory! Thanks so much for sharing, Basil!
DeleteI'm new to your blog and just wanted to tell you how much I'm enjoying the National Poetry Month example poems and the readers' poems posted as comments. I look forward to the rest of April!
ReplyDeleteWelcome, Karen, and thanks so much for your comment. I hope you'll come back often and continue to enjoy the blog.
DeleteIt is April 4, 2013 and the prompting poem is "My Turn to Confess" by Charles Simic. To me, the encouragement I get as a poet from from this poem is to acknowledge the unorthodox thoughts and images and stay with them, no matter where they lead and how close to the absurd they may take you.
ReplyDeleteI am an immigrant and I often reflect on the price an immigrant pays by leaving his/her country and home. Not only in terms of what he/she loses (family, friends and country) but in terms of the elevated expectations of herself/himself. What goes through their minds when they don't meet those expectations. Or, what happens to those, like the case of my uncle Nick, who lost it all.
DIASPORA
My new friend
shows me fishermen's
Cannon shots
from his trip to Myanmar
and I throw
the fishing nets
from the shots
over the clothesline
of an ethnic
neighborhood where
my uncle Nick
used to keep a
grocery store
in Buenos Aires,
but Juan Peron's
inflation policies
closed the store
and sent his widow home.
He is now officially a member
of the dead Greek diaspora
who entered the
forbidden
fruit! garden
and came out
empty handed.
I will visit
his grave on my next
trip and send you
my photo by his nameless
head stone
to prove he is still there.
By Basil Rouskas
WOW! This is fantastic! Thanks again for sharing!
DeleteI love your stuff!
ReplyDeleteThank you Risa. I value your comment. It comes from someone who knows how to describe the texture of loss, as your poem about Puddy so aptly demonstrates.
DeleteBasil
Before April 1st
ReplyDeleteStars hung in an indigo sky
Before April 1st
Birds sang heartily every morning
Before
There was Puddy
My darling cat
After April 1st
Stars shine
Birds sing
And Puddy is no longer
Life continues
I'm so sorry for your loss. I know how much you loved Puddy. Thank you for sharing your beautiful poem.
DeleteI'm sorry too, Risa. I know how much it hurts to lost a pet you love. May you remember her always with love and a joy that is greater than grief.
DeleteIt is April 5th and the prompting poem for memories is MOMENTUM by Catherine Doty. For me this poem is one of the most powerful and complex poems I have read, blending emotion and memory, anger and sadness about the mindless bravado that took a life. It tells so much, WITHOUT telling it all in excruciating detail. What I would have given to come up with a line like "the hillside wears your shoes!!!!"
ReplyDeleteFor me most of my "good" memories relate to the beauty of the Greek scapes where I grew up. In Greece this invariably leads to water...
GREEK ISLAND REUNION
I stand outside
the rental
island home.
The tourists are gone,
life at mid-day lull,
no buzz, just off season calm.
I peek around
the kitchen’s
half open door.
Fish sizzle in the pan,
mother chops lettuce.
Father uncorks
a bottle of wine.
He fills
the glasses,
takes a sip,
sighs and
rustles the paper.
Mother calls us
to wash up and
come to lunch.
My brother turns
the faucet on
and — unexpectedly —
my wife breaks the daydream.
Time to go, she says.
I turn to leave. A seagull
reads my mood and
wails as he
flies off over the water.
By Basil Rouskas
Basil, thanks so much! Your intros add a special note to your poems! It's always a pleasure to read your work!
DeleteThank you Adele. I always value your comments and encouragement.
DeleteBasil
The seagull!
DeleteConfessions
DeleteI admit
I enjoy my lower, baser self
Rising thoughts of revenge
invigorate and excite
And when the high wears off
I crash and burn
with guilt and remorse
at losing to
my reactive mind
A million yesterdays
Deletehave come and gone
Ah, there goes another one
yet another
I can only look forward
leaping
into the future
without sunglasses
Memories
DeleteOh you wild orange tabby
The "m" on your forhead
your stripes and dots
a true American breed
Oh you wild orange tabby
faithful
companion
to the end
Oh you wild orange tabby
always
and forever
molecularly
mine
Wonderful, Risa! Thanks so much for sharing—so much heart and soul in your words.
DeleteI'm just catching up, Risa, and want to tell you how courageous your poems are. Your spirit of sharing and community (posting your lovely poems for us to enjoy) is very special. Thank you!
DeleteIt is April 6th and the prompting poem by Dorrianne Laux is "Dust." I liked how the poem juxtaposes "presence," to lack of awareness. The former makes us deeply experience the uviversal (on a granular dust level) the latter deprives us.
ReplyDeleteAs if dust is the permanent essence of everything. Then, "from dust to dust" takes a new meaning. It makes us perceive life and death differently - as an assembly of two rewinding ends continuum. In my poem the temporal continuity of an emotion, difficult as it is, is the evidence that emotions leave their fingerprints on our lives forever and make them richer, wiser, intimate and private.
DUST
When the plane that
brings me back
flies over the city
my mind fills with grains
of that old dust storm.
It has been
more than 40 years
now. And it makes no
difference, what once
I felt for you—
I went west but
the storm
stayed
inside
me.
By Basil Rouskas
Very nice, Basil! Thanks again for sharing each day! Bouquets to you!
DeleteIt is April 7th and the prompting poem is "The White Birds" by W.B. Yeats. For me predominant themes of this poem revolve around timelessness and bliss - things that couples in love wished they could always have. Yet, we (and they) know that these are only wishes. And the yearnings of the couple in love will be contrasted by the hard realities: Youth leaves and bliss is not for ever in life.
ReplyDeleteI played with an alternate Pantoum format, and this is the first draft of what came out:
TWO WHITE BIRDS
I would that we were, my beloved, white birds
on the foam of the sea! (W.B. Yeats)
And the two white birds
that fly above our bed
timelessness they suggest
but we know better we have little of.
They fly above our bed
sign of a lost bliss
but we know better we have little of
our youth will fly too.
Sign of a lost bliss
and in our grey years
our youth will fly too
our teachers were wrong
and in our grey years
we'll smile from ears to ears
our teachers were wrong
I want you now to hold me tight and long.
By Basil Rouskas
Lovely, Basil!
DeleteApril 8, 2013 and the prompting poem "Rhapsody on a Windy Night" has surrealistic, nightmarish quality to it. I have no idea how this poem came into my mind but I have often had my own nightmares when I felt a total lack of control for something I am responsible. I would imagine a young conductor could have this nightmare.:
ReplyDeleteCONDUCTOR'S NIGHTMARE
The orchestra rehearses
the first two bars of music
before the drummer
throws his sticks and
walks off the floor.
The other musicians also get up
and on their own decide to take their tea break.
The maintenance man
sweeps the stage and, silent,
leaves for home.
Performance time,
the audience seated,
the piano tuned,
the concertmaster's job done,
and all is ready but me.
I hold my baton high,
make eye contact with all sections,
but I cannot proceed:
A piece of sharp grain is stuck
on the lips of the opening clarinetist
The General Manager,
not checking with me,
makes the final announcement:
Due to technical problems we cancel
the performance - refunds will be promptly issued.
By Basil Rouskas
Oh my goodness, what a "nice" twist
DeleteIt sure is! Bravo, Basil!
DeleteIt is April 9, 2013 and Stafford's prompting poem is all about security - the more we seek security the less we discover in life.
ReplyDeleteI found a poem I had written in 1975, in Greek. A little dated, but it was interesting that it, also, dealt with matters of the seas...
THE SECURITY OF THE WHARF
This ship
is sailing nowhere soon.
It dropped anchor
long ago
and the sneaky wharf
grew barnacles on its belly.
Its crew and captain
got used to drinking beer
than mending sails.
But, son, to find new islands
you gotta risk
the open sea.
By Basil Rouskas
I love the way some of our old poems inform the current work. Thanks for sharing this and all the other poems! Something special for us to savor each day!
DeleteDitto to what Adele wrote!
DeleteIt is April 10th and the prompting theme is "Rain."
ReplyDeleteTHE RAIN
The cloud
decided to
go to therapy
and all it took was
one question by
the psychologist:
The rain
fell like
a vertical river
cleansed the
pollen off the leaves
rinsed the air
catalyzed fully
the torrent of
our reunion.
By Basil Rouskas
Basil, forgive me for not commenting individually on your poems, but please accept my sincerest congrats on the way you've responded to each day's inspiration and example. Not only are the poems wonderful, but your introductions are a personal note that invites us, as readers, into your poems in a special way. Many thanks!
DeleteJamie,
DeleteThank you for what you wrote and how you said it. Ours is a special community that has been enjoying the celebration of April as the Poetry Month.
Basil
Wind
ReplyDeleteGentle tropical breezes
blow billows of gauzy fabric
through open slated windows
every moment
precious
Every moment of life ... yes!
DeleteRisa,
DeleteI love the suggestive, evocative mood you create in just five lines.
Basil
Sand
ReplyDeletedaily
the sand of time
collects
in corners
on doors
bed sheets
often
I sweep
but
daily
the sand of time
collects
Very nice, Risa—always your inimitable, minimalist style!
DeleteBirds
ReplyDeletesounds of highway traffic
crash
like waves
serenaded by
tunes of
seasonal snowbirds
"Snowbirds" is a clue to "living in Florida!" Thanks for sharing, Risa!
DeleteToday is April 11th and the prompting theme is Remembrance. I spent most of summer vacations in a little village high on the mountains of Greece. That is where I played with my cousins, got to see the life of the village, played with animals and took in all the beauty of unspoiled nature.
ReplyDeleteThis poem is born out of these precious unforgettable memories.
REMEMBERING THE EAGLES' NEST
And if you soar like an eagle and if you build your nest amidst the stars… (OBADIAH 1)
I first saw eagles' nests
on vacation,
in my father's village,
on the mountains
of central Greece.
We found the chicks
in a crack of a rock,
high, by the last switch-back
of the dirt road
to the village.
We kept our distance
to avoid an attack
by the parents, and,
binoculars in hand,
waited for the eagles' return.
The birds fed
their chicks in
the fir-needles-lined nest
and prepped them
for sleep.
The half moon would rise,
the stars would light up,
and in wonder we stretched
those minutes before
heading home for dinner.
By Basil Rouskas
I chose "Remembrance" for April 11th because it would have been my mom and dad's 71st wedding anniversary. I thought of them a lot all day, and I was so happy to read your poem, which goes in a very different "memory direction." Thanks so much for sharing!
DeleteToday's April 12th and theme is DAWN.
ReplyDeleteIn my poem, I play with the possible reasons for the strong association between a visual and the word "Dawn." Here it goes:
REGRETS
When I hear "dawn"
I recall the picture of
the eastern sky
of a small airstrip,
someplace in the midwest.
A small plane outline
emerges in the
dim yellow light
and the silhouettes of
a man and a woman
ready to climb
the steps to fly.
It was the early
days of color photography.
The artist asked for thirty dollars.
I didn't buy it. But, I never forgot it.
By Basil Rouskas
Wonderful, Basil! Such a universal theme: things we passed by and have never forgotten.
DeleteKudos to Basil and Risa for their observance of national Poetry Month here on "The Music In It!"
ReplyDeleteThank you Bob!
DeleteToday is April 13, 2013 and Adele's prompt is Solitude.
ReplyDeleteFor me "solitude" is connected with cold. I cannot find the reference, but I believe the French poet Paul Eluard came up with the line: "If we did not love, the world would be a frozen solitude."
My poem was driven by the imagery of a couple who live in Siberia. She senses that the difficulties of life over the years are changing the way he loves her. So, she reaches out to remind him of their love and its power to sustain hope and life (through the seasonal cycles.)
SIBERIAN IRISES
I fear years of arctic winters
changed the angle of your
elbow when we hug.
And though we know how well grizzlies
and cubs fight the cold in their dens,
we take for granted what holds us together.
With no love between us
the world would be
a frozen solitude,
the streams wouldn't thaw,
the days wouldn't get longer,
irises wouldn't bloom.
By Basil Rouskas
Wonderful, Basil! Profound simplicity!
DeleteWithout your intro, this could be about any couple in love, anywhere in time or place. A good read, Basil!
DeleteToday, April 14, 2013, the prompt is DECISIONS.
ReplyDeleteIt is one of my biggest decisions in life to choose to come to America. My dad insisted that I become a teacher in the town I describe in the poem. My mom supported me to pursue my dream and come to the USA.
THE LEMON TREE
I dreamed of a lemon tree
in the back yard of a downtown
house of a small Mediterranean city
with narrow streets untouched by progress.
Homes on top of family run storefronts
trucks and busses in cobblestone streets
in tight turns as tires screech their way into
skimpy parking.
That is the city I would have lived in,
had I followed my father’s advice to be
a teacher near his birthplace in Greece.
Instead, I came to America.
By Basil Rouskas
Tomorrow is April 15th, 2013.
ReplyDeleteThe prompt for the day is MUSIC:
MUSIC
Summer music
wakes me with the
murmur
of Black River.
Midday, the hummingbirds'
snare drums roll into
evening oboe calls
from the wood thrush.
Then,
the buzz
of cicadas
rules for the night!
Basil Rouskas
Basil, you're amazing! I can hardly keep up with you!
DeleteThis poem successfully evokes a strong sense of nature's "summer music."
Keep 'em coming!
I agree with Adele, Basil, you are amazing! And so is Risa! A big "THANK YOU" to both of you!
DeleteI certainly appreciate the good words, Jamie.
DeleteBasil
Today is Arpil 16th, 2013 and the prompt is LOVE
ReplyDeleteI was reflecting on Shakespeare's lines "... love is not love which alters when it alteration finds..."
Today is my wedding anniversary. As my wife and I exchange gifts and celebrate our marriage, I think that love changes as we change, emerging with new pursuits, and new needs. These thoughts led me to this first draft:
LOVE ALTERS
Yes, love is love
that alters when
natural alteration
finds. it is the grain
that yields to harvest,
the flour
that rises
to dough
and bakes to bread.
It is the table
on which we share it
with those we love.
Basil Rouskas
Happy anniversary, Basil!
DeleteThank you Adele,
DeleteB.
Today is April 17th, 2013 and the prompt is LOVE LETTERS.
ReplyDeleteI am reading a book in which the plot moves by love letters between the main characters. It strikes me that in today's world, we may send a quick email or short text message, but we don't take the time to write letters to lovers, famly members or friends. We mostly talk. Out spoken words are not fully baked or sometimes impatient or wrong.
There was a Latin proverb that sums us my thought-it is in the poem below:
SPOKEN WORDS
We tied them with a string
stored them in locked drawers,
went on with life, forgot them,
until a son or daughter
found them settling
our estate.
They wanted no surprises
and turned them over to
the executor
who was just as busy
and wanted prompt closure
of the chapter as well.
Now, we write no love
letters. We pick up the
phone and talk, but
Spoken Words Fly
Written Words Remain*
*Verba Volant
Scripta Manent (Latin Proverb)
By Basil Rouskas
Such richness! How lovely to read the response poems along with the inspiration words and example poems! Thanks to all!
ReplyDeleteMáire Ó Cathail (Ireland)
So great to see that our community is global. Hello Ireland!
DeleteBasil
I'm a reader from Australia (Queensland). I don't post comments (too shy to share), but I love the blog and thank you all for the posts and comments. Always wonderful stuff!
ReplyDeleteWelcome, Mary Ann! Thanks so much for your kind words.
DeleteHello down under in Queensland!
ReplyDeleteToday is April 18, 2013 and the prompting poem is Natasha Trethewey's THEORIES OF TIME AND SPACE.
ReplyDeleteWhen I read this poem I am in a surrealist capsule of a time warp of "otherness."
The feeling reminded me of an image I had when I was recently in Philladelphia. Sitting on a hotel terrace, I had a view of the old rusty decommissioned war ships. I thought of the old US glory and might during the 40's and contrasted it with the current (2011) problems of outsourcing and deficits and unemployment. The poem is the result of that reflection.
CAMDEN WATERFRONT
The river opens its mouth to Chesapeake’s salty waters
and the evening fog veils the decommissioned ships
left here from post war years of naval glory.
Philly commuters take Ben Franklin bridge to the
North Eastern burbs, where the cannons point.
Executives on the converted subs,
sip cocktails to forget deals struck with
overseas partners who then made them money
but now will eat their lunch
and strand them on these rusty hulls
right here on the water front
of the Camden Navy Yards
Basil Rouskas
Jago's touch:
ReplyDeleteI poeti che brutte creature
ogni volta che parlano è una truffa.
Poets what ugly creatures
every time they speak is a fraud
(F.de Gregori)
Welcome back, Jago! I've missed your comments!
DeleteI'm not quite certain what this quote is about but suspect that there's a larger context.
My Italian is very rusty, but here's something you might enjoy: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y41ur1_4638
Very well, Jamie! The quote is just from the song you found in you tube.
DeleteCould you understand the poem, I mean, the song?
Ciao. e ciao anche ad Adele
THAT THIN THREAD
ReplyDelete(String Theory: in physics, all the different particles and forces of the universe are composed of wriggling strands of energy whose properties depend solely on the mode of their vibration. Understand the properties of those strands, and you will understand why the universe is the way it is. The latest version is now called M-theory and states there are ten to the five hundredth power models of physics, ( give or take a few trillion). Each model corresponds to an actual place - another universe as real as our own. It's no longer a universe, but a megaverse).
In another universe
Jesus is a woman.
Meteorites
have notes attached.
Nancy Leonard didn't get polio when her boy Jim was one
and didn't have to spend thirty years in an iron lung.
Dogs live seventy-five years.
In another universe
my body doesn't betray me and I don't have cancer
nor do I own a double plot at Forest lawn.
Ellen doesn't have to hang the shirts she brought home from the dry cleaners
on the ironing board, doesn't have to fry up some onions and garlic
for when her husband comes home.
Teenage mothers are sought after for parental advice.
All disease is cured with chocolate.
In another universe
getting struck by lightning
brings good luck.
Popcorn tastes as good as it smells.
Widows don't have to learn the trick that
crying in the shower hides your tears.
Good books never end.
Fat ankles are symbols of terrifying beauty.
Faith can be purchased at the corner drug store
for a song.
The Ten Commandments become just three:
Fall asleep.
Fall in love.
Fall down, skin your knee.
In another universe
I will not become an old woman painting bad pictures.
You will always whistle in the next room.
We will all sleep
as the mountain sleeps.
In the end
we are all
the sum
of our experiences.
We are
the sum
of all
our experiences.
And we ride that thin thread,
that Pegasus,
like fatigue is irrelevant,
like a state of emergency exists.
Alison M. Bailey
Thanks so much for sharing, Alison!
DeleteAlison,
DeleteThis is fascinating
Basil
Thanks for posting your poem, Alison! I hope you'll share again!
DeleteJamie,
ReplyDeleteI checked the Youtube link you posted. I enjoyed the music and the performer.
Basil
SO glad, Basil!
DeleteJago,
ReplyDeleteI have a friend whose Italian is more fluent than mine. When I asked him to help find the poem from which you quoted, he found this on YouTube. His translations were helpful while listening.
Jamie
Security
ReplyDeleteThe kids looked disapprovingly
at my latest hair style
Remaining the same outwardly
was better
consitent
conforting
A latent sense of insecurity
held in check
by repetition and seeming sameness
"Seeming sameness"—something with which we can all identify in one way or another. Thanks so much for sharing!
DeleteToday is Arpil 19th , 2013. The prompt is REGRETS
ReplyDeleteWhen I read Kinnell's poem I find my self in a conflicted position: On the one hand I "read" a mindset of "it is what it is and there is no reason questioning, nature knows best." This acceptance mindset is of great value in gratfulness and I realize that.
Yet, I am more comfortable in a space of the human choice. Where we can question nature? We can ask the question "What if ..." How could we have made better choices? What did we learn?
I take a challenge to Kinnell's butterfly. I am questionning what do we learn, how do we evolve as a species if we don't have regrets??
CHALLENGING THE MONARCH
No it is not true
you wouldn't do
things differently
In your unusual life cycle
(larva to one-day life Monarch) —
you just don't have the time
to have regrets.
You cannot tell me
living in streams under rocks
and feeding on rotting weeds
for years,
you wouldn't change a thing —
you just don't have the time
to have regrets.
But in my case
I have time in my hands
to recall laughter
with other children
in our dancing rounds
I have time to ponder the lives
of mother and father and
to relive homeland
departure calls and to regret
the hurts I put on others.
And if all is well in your life
(lived the way it was meant to be)
and if you made no mistakes,
have no regrets, what will you do differently
in your next life?
What can you teach me about my regrets?
Very insightful comments in your introduction, Basil, and a wonderfully thought-provoking poem. Thanks so much for sharing!
DeleteRegrets ... always there no matter how we live learn around them. Thanks for sharing this poem, Basil.
DeleteYou know
ReplyDeleteI couldn’t see you in this sub-urban cemetery
Among horrible myrtle bushes and the green moss growing on my
grave
But, God, you’re so beautiful
Among these horrible myrtle bushes and
…quest'erbetta stenta
e inodora, dove violetta si sprofonda
l'atmosfera, con un brivido di menta,
o fieno marcio…"
No,these are not my lines
I wish!
These are by Pasolini, “ Le Ceneri di Gramsci”
Amazing imagery. Pasolini's genius is clear in any language! Thanks for sharing, Jago!
DeleteJago, Pasolini is amazing but not well known or widely read here in England. Is he better know in your country?
DeleteIt is April 20th, 2013 and the prompting poem is PORTRAITS
ReplyDeletePORTRAIT OF MY ISLAND
In her cotton white dress my cousin
stands holding on to
the ropes of the swing set.
Her younger brother and I
sit on the swings to her left and right.
The spa building, long and white,
poses behind us. Mother looks pleased.
A kerchief covers her head. No people,
the lagoon is cradling a boat,
and we're all barefoot.
Father not in the picture,
(still in the city or in the spa?)
A rocky hill frames the scape
and we soak sun on the pebble beach
before heading home for lunch.
This is the portrait of the magic island
I owned before I grew up,
and stopped using the swings.
Basil Rouskas
AFTERNOON is the prompt poem for today, April 21, 213.
ReplyDeleteThere was an instant connection with Edna St. Vincent Millay's poem. I started writing immediately and the finished poem needed very little work. Issues of decisions, choices, revisiting life's key events, my family, my immigration to America, my career, my marriage in Hawaii, blended together without any thinking...
AFTERNOON REDESIGN
I will visit my parents'
village, in the old country,
light the wick of the olive oil lamp
on their grave and thank them for
life. I will then cross the Atlantic,
by plane this time, and greet the statue
with new eyes. I'll skip the MBA classes
and corporate suites but will
revisit Grand Canyon.
There, I will soar with the birds
on the high thermals
and lead them west
to Hanalei Beach where
I married you. There, we'll rest
and wait for the evening together.
Basil Rouskas
I love the title ... and the poem! Absolutely beautiful (and a great dismount). What a lovely gift to give your wife!
DeletePasolini is well known in Italy, but unfurtunately I think he is not so well known among young people.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry, I don't traslate the lines of Pasolini:
"...this poor herbe so meager
and odourless, where violet
the atmosphere sinks in
with a shiver of mint or rotten hay..."
Really "dangerous" this translation!
On my blog : http://ottantanovenuvole.blogspot.it/2012/11/seeking-locations-in-palestine-for-film.html
and a wonderful spanish translation by Elena Tardonato
..".este pasto débil
e inodoro, donde se hunde violeta
la atmósfera, con un temblor de menta
o heno podrido...
here :http://horadelsur.files.wordpress.com/2008/11/las-cenizas-de-gramsci.pdf
Jago, There are a number of little-known genius poets whose work is stunning. Thank you for drawing attention to Pasolini and for your comments!
DeletePasolini's films are equally powerful. So, glad we are discussing poetic expression across other languages in this Blog!
DeleteBasil
Today is April 22, 2013 and the prompt is TRUTH.
DeleteI find it a sad commentary on our lifestyle that we don't know our neighbors. It takes a crime or a horrible deed by someone in our neighborhood to get to know the truth about them.
We look at the TV reporter and say: "He looked like such good guy..."
THE GOOD NEIGHBOR
For years our lawns
(professionally cut)
faced each other,
edges trimmed,
trees pruned,
perennials planted,
and soil weeded
around the
mail boxes.
And then they moved.
Phone calls slowed
and then stopped.
Nothing for two years,
and then a letter.
No name in the
sender’s address
but a number
preceded by a
capital “I”.
It started with an
apology, he couldn’t tell us
more, but hoped
when he’d come out
next year we could be
friends again.
Basil Rouskas
I recently saw a tape of Pasolini's "Canterbury Tales"—what an amazing interpretation.
DeleteBasil, your poem expresses the vagaries of some relationships and the hopefulness of reconnecting despite a period of absence.
DeleteOur prompt for today, April 23, 2013 is Denise Levertov's poem SECRETS.
DeleteThe poem, with a wonderful "finesse", pokes fun at people who read poetry in a shallow, opinionated way - they claim to see deep messages that others (let alone the poet) don't. They are not poetry readers but spin artists.
In my opinion, even worse, when poets use the art to differentiate themselves through artificial techniques, they do very little to promote real poetry.
YOUR ESOTERIC POETRY
Why do I need a dictionary to
translate your words,
a history book for names of
characters to "get"
your message?
I am at a loss for your line breaks
and (though willing to chuck
the punctuation rules)
I find your cerebral
acrobatics an off-putting chore,
a self aggrandizing treatise...
Put a chamomile compress
on my tired eyes, tell me stories
to fall asleep by and ward off
the night dragons.
If you want to take me
out on the lake to sway them
I'll follow you,
but make it an adventure
not a prep study for an exam!
Thank you!
Basil Rouskas
I found his Canterbury Tales on YouTube and I am watching it as we speak.
DeleteIncredible!
B.
I hear you, Basil! Like so much of the "current poetry" that plays with language for no apparent reason other than the manipulation of words (not poetry to me)!
DeleteThanks for this refreshingly honest poem with a fantastic last stanza!
Thanks Jamie.
DeleteI am really concerned when I see those kinds of poems appearing in "reputable" websites with an increased frequency. As every form of art, poetry will experiment. I welcome this and cherish it. But when the art and craft becomes a free for all, then I refuse to read it. I don't see myself as a crusader. So, this is not a polemic and will not cancel my subscriptions to the hosting websites - I am just vending.
Basil
April 24, 2013 and the prompt is Mary Oliver's poem THE JOURNEY.
DeleteI like Oliver's poem for the way it describes the complex process of finding what is true for us and then creating the language to express it. The following poem from my book Redrawing Borders, (Finishing Line Press) describes an aspect of that journey for me.
PARK BENCH
He approached the
park bench and
asked me if I mind.
He straightened his aged back
lit up his pipe and in his
dreamy voice started his story:
My buddies and I dreamed
we would join the revolution
in Algeria
but instead wound up
with MBAs
in New York City.
The best years
of our youth
we read Karl Marx,
added Das Kapital
to our non published
credentials, the ones we
slept on for years, the ones we
mixed with milk and cereal in
the mornings before commutes
to corporate castles,
with fully partitioned
offices and private secretaries.
And then came the morning
when the new boss announced he
wanted me in Puerto Rico;
he suggested, with a straight face,
I grow a moustache “to be like them”
and run the local branch.
It was the morning before
the evening when I said my first big
“no” to the Castle Prince.
I often wonder, my friend,
where I would now be, had I not
made that turn.
The old man then asked me
about the turns in my life
and I told him
if I’d been born a generation before
I would have fought
Franco in Spain,
I would have written
plays
like Beckett, and…
-- with his open palm up,
he motioned me to stop. He
said to me - -
The past is gone
the future does not exist
and all we have is “now.”
The sun dipped below the
tree line. He and I got up and
walked in the same direction.
At the park exit, I realized he
was gone, the warmth of his pipe
still in my hand.
Basil Rouskas
In rereading my poem YOUR ESOTERIC POEM I found a mistake in the last stanza: The word "sway" needs to be replaced by "slay"
DeleteMy apologies,
Basil
A wonderful poem, Basil!
DeleteIn my comment to Jamie earlier today, I meant to say "venting", not "vending!!"
ReplyDeleteI'd better quit my commentary and postings today. I must be tired.
Cheers,
Basil
Beware the dreaded Typosaurus! (Typos happen to all of us!)
DeleteAdele, I'm so enjoying the ideas, examples, and responses! Thank you for this yearly treat of thoughts and words.
ReplyDeleteMáire Ó Cathail (Ireland)
So glad you're enjoying it all, Maire! Thanks for your comment!
DeleteMusic
ReplyDeleteI was so into music
I'd even stay up till dawn
recording pre-releases off the radio
then
my world crumbled
when you walked away!
See what trouble
I brought on myself!
My pirating days were over
My collections
went into the trash
If it wasn't authentic
If it wasn't live
I didn't want it
"Off with their heads"
I shouted
as I wandered
in my own wonderland
A little mystery in this one (what happened to the "music"), along with your signature style. Wonderful, as always! Thanks so much for posting, Risa!
DeleteThanks for sharing, Risa. Such a unique way of juxtaposing the pain of separation with an enjoyed activity. That kind of association is so universal.
DeleteToday is April 25, 2013 and our prompt is PRAYER
ReplyDeleteUNFATHOMABLE
Astronomers describe
energy wells that
cover one half the torso
of our galaxy
and each explodes
one million
times stronger
than a super Nova.
Here on Earth, in CERN Geneva,
particles, spun in a 17 mile
underground track,
collide at the speed of light
to prove existence
of the Higgs boson
that makes other particles
get mass through weak fields
and has other properties
that, when we understand,
may shake assumptions
of how stable our universe is.
May the galaxy and the atom
be harnessed in peace.
May love shield from war
the toes of a newborn baby.
Basil Rouskas
The parallel (or relationship) between the hugeness of the universe and a tiny little baby is striking! Thanks for sharing, Basil!
DeleteDitto to Jamie's comment!
DeleteJamie and Adele,
DeleteIsn't the Universe so immense and mysterious. And isn't it the soft, tiny foot of a baby so promising?
Thanks for your feedback.
Basil
FRUTTI DI COLORE ROSSO / RED COLOR FRUITS / FRUTAS DE COLOR ROJO
ReplyDeleteMarmellata di mirtillo
una collana di corniola
lo sciroppo di betulla
Blueberry jam
a carnelian necklace
the birchtree syrup
Marmelada de arandano
un collar de cornalina
el jarabe de bedul
Yours or translation? Either way, it's glorious!
DeleteJago,
ReplyDeleteLet me take the liberty to translate in Greek as well... This is truly a multilinguist blogsite.
Basil
ΚΟΚΚΙΝΟΧΡΩΜΑ ΦΡΟΥΤΑ
Μαρμελάδα βατόμουρου
ένα κολιέ καμέλιας
της σημύδας σιρόπι
This is wonderful, Basil!
DeleteThank you so much!
Today is April 26th, 2013 and the prompting theme is BLESSINGS.
ReplyDeleteWright's poem about the bond he has with the two ponies is one of the "tenderest" poems I have ever read.
Here is my poem inspired by it:
ANIMAL BONDS
(In Kato's memory)
What we love in animals
is something of ours,
that we try to reclaim.
In winter nights
the stray cats of Athens
stir up my loneliness.
When the wood thrush
sings, I regret the songs
I never sang with my father.
And in a dog's brown eyes,
I see yours
on the final trip to the vet.
Basil Rouskas
"Something of ours that we try to reclaim ..." There's "something" very compelling about the simpleness and directness of this poem. The way you make connections (the stray cats, the songs you never sang with your father, the last trip to the vet) is really well done.
DeleteThanks so much for sharing this!
As always, I appreciate your words Adele!
DeleteYour blog, feedback and encouragement has helped me (and others I know) tremendously in finding our voices.
And this Blog is such a great FREE resource for those who want to advance in the craft.
Thank you!!
Basil
Very nice, Basil! A sad ending that I relate to strongly.
DeleteThanks, Jamie.
DeleteB
Today is April 27th, 2013 and the prompting poem is CALLINGS by Maxine Kumin. I see the poem as a conversation implied, between her and Georgia O'Keefe. Maxine is not pleased that Georgia is switching to a third person to make her points. Also, Maxine objects to the notion that art is something you do as you do the garden and do the shopping and cook. She wants Georgia to speak in first person and talk about art and the work that is involved to conceive it and create it.
ReplyDeleteI often times reflect on the cause of the callings, the things we have a passion for in life. How did we acquire these passions, how much others understand their importance or their folly. I also ponder the role that "completion" plays in our callings. When does, if ever, a calling get complete, fully discharged?
THE CALLING
Her dress, from the thirties,
a crudely colored green on
the black and white photograph.
Her body at a camera angle
but her face
straight at me.
Eyes,
intense, otherworldly.
Come and join me
she says. And I want to tell her
why I (her son) am not yet
done with my work, but I can't.
Basil Rouskas
Molto bella Basil!
ReplyDeleteVery beautiful!
Agreed, Jago! Molto bella, Basil!
DeleteMille Grazie, Jago and Adele!
DeleteBasil
Today is April 28, 2013 and the prompting poem is Philip Levine's GOSPEL.
DeleteI love this poem. In addition to his poetic description of the countryside and his nature walk, he lets us know (past the mid-point into the poem) a new element - his pain. He doesn't tell us details about the crumpled letter in his pocket or about the woman. He closes the poem with a realization that words are not enough to get answers or relief. The message (for me) is "you have to go through the pain alone and find your answers. Nature can help but, sorry, no answers."
This poem reminded me of a scene from a movie I saw recently. It, also, involves a man and a woman about whom I don't give details. There is attraction between them but there are problems and a decision needs to be made. I will leave it at that…
THE WIND AND THE QUESTION
He drives her to a hilltop
that looks over the valley
stops the car and opens the door.
Silent, he looks at the swaying tree tops
and then tells her he comes here
when he wants to think.
Father brought me here
for the first time
when mother left us, he says.
She looks at him with a question
but doesn't ask it.
The tree tops still sway
the riverbed
on the valley floor
half wet.
Basil Rouskas
Lovely, Basil!
Delete(I can hardly keep up with your poems and comments—in the best possible sense! What a wonderful commitment to National Poetry Month. Congrats to you!)
Thanks for your words, Adele.
DeleteIt has been a commitment, yet not an obligation. I worked every day and attempted to follow your great prompts and how you offered them. I felt free to take the prompt into unexpected directions. There are some poems in this April Anthology that I like and some others not so much. Overall, though, I am glad I did it.
I appreciate all the comments the Blogsite community offered from all parts of the world.
Basil
You're very welcome, Basil! You inspire us with your dedication to poetry and your spirit of hard work!
DeleteSolitude
ReplyDeleteFather's gone
sister's gone
Mother's here
but gone
A solitary survivor
I walk alone
with thousands
for peace and happiness
Honoring my ancestors
yet
knowing I chose
another path
or
perhaps
it was chosen for me
A lovely reflection on "what's left," choices, and family.
DeleteThanks so much for sharing, Risa!
Risa,
ReplyDeleteI liked the juxtaposition of the individual with the family, the peace marchers and the ancestors. The ambivalence regarding who made the choice also comes through very nicely.
B.
Thanks!
DeleteToday is April 28, 2013 and the prompting poem is SPRING.
ReplyDeleteSPRING SIGNS
Thread-leaf maple buds
curtsey to the morning sun
outside our South window.
Grass seeds
sprout and pierce the hay.
Myrtle blossoms.
A hawk spreads his wings,
and scouts for food
before the land turns green.
Black River trees
add a new ring to
their calendars.
So do we.
We eat this year's first
lettuce in our red salad bowl.
We count blessings.
Basil Rouskas
Ah, that first lettuce is always so perfect!
DeleteThe Black River appears in several of your poems—a wonderful source of inspiration. I always admire poets who draw from their surroundings, and in this poem, your attention to the natural world is very effective.
Gratitude makes all the difference!
ReplyDeleteYou're so right, Risa!
DeleteToday is the last day of April, 2013.
ReplyDeleteThe prompting theme is HAPPINESS. Carver's poem, in my opinion, makes the point that happiness can be found in the most unusual circumstances; we just need to be ready to see it and cherish it. Happiiness is so elusive, maybe because we are looking for it the wrong way and with inflated expectations...
This April has been difficult for me because of a medical accident that resulted in my injury. After several interventions, I am now healing. As I am poondering the theme of the day, I realize that there are many things for my happiness this morning.
MY HAPPINESS THIS MORNING
The stream babbles
its way to Black River
a woodpecker taps
on the tulip tree
the dogwood springs
its first blossom.
Parents, long resting;
career, well done.
And you on my side,
while I heal.
Basil Rouskas
Wonderful, Basil! And special congratulations to you for your poem-a-day participation in the month-long celebration of National Poetry Month!
DeleteGiven the circumstances—your injury and recuperation this April—I imagine that writing every day was not always easy. I hope you found the poetry spiritually and emotionally healing.
Thank you so much!
Thank you so much!
Basil, this is a fantastic poem, so uplifting. Thank you for sharing it and for sharing about your injury. In fact, thank you for a whole month of wonderful sharing! It must have been difficult for you coping with the injury and still writing so faithfully.
DeleteI hope you heal quickly and completely and that you will continue to post poems or comments now that National Poetry Month is over. A lot of us will miss hearing from you if you don'!
Thanks, Jamie, for your participation! You add so much to the blog community with your generous thoughts and kind comments.
DeleteTo you Adele, for the blogsite, the well thought out poem/prompts and your encouragement to all of us.
DeleteAnd to all of you in our international web community who offered comments and poems.
THANK YOU!!
Basil Rouskas
Well done, all of you!
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful poetry month, filled with words and sharing.
My thanks to all who contributed!
Máire Ó Cathail (Ireland)
Thanks, Maire! It's always great to hear from you, and I'm so glad you enjoyed the poems and comments!
DeleteThanks, everyone, for participating through your poems and comments! Bouquets to all of you!
ReplyDeleteAdele