Thursday, June 29, 2023

Poetry Friday: "Summer Song" by William Carlos Williams


This week's Poetry Friday host, Irene Latham, has invited everyone to a "Moon in June" themed roundup. She's encouraging us to "share a favorite moon poem (yours or someone else's), a moon story, a moon memory, a moon dream...or whatever your moon-heart desires!" Irene's newest book, Museum on the Moon, will be released on August 8th. Take a look at this gorgeous cover: 



Can't wait to read this one! 


My moon-themed selection this week is from William Carlos Williams. I turn to Williams when I want shimmering imagery that pulls me perfectly into a scene. Who, after all, doesn't appreciate the vividness of a red wheelbarrow or the sorry-not-sorry nature of a plum-eating confession? Williams applies the same deft and inviting hand to the sharing of a summer morn. 

Enjoy! 


Summer Song
by William Carlos Williams 


Wanderer moon
smiling a
faintly ironical smile
at this
brilliant, dew-moistened
summer morning,—
a detached
sleepily indifferent
smile, a
wanderer's smile,—
if I should
buy a shirt
your color and
put on a necktie
sky-blue
where would they carry me?


(This poem is in the public domain.)

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Thursday, June 22, 2023

Poetry Friday: Laura Shovan and Michael Rothenberg's *Welcome to Monsterville*


Welcome to Monsterville
, by Laura Shovan, with illustrations by Michael Rothenberg is a sweet, sometimes silly, moving, always charming collection of art and poetry that brings a variety of monstrous (in the best of ways) emotions to life. 

The story behind this book is immensely touching. The seeds for the book were planted in early 2020, as Laura first mentions here. How did the book grow? Check out this post, "When I Cry," which is an explanation of the book's growth, a tribute to a beloved friend, and a farewell to that same dear friend who passed away much too soon (and before his collaboration with Laura was published.) 

In the Author's Note, Laura tells us more about the spirit of the monsters that Michael drew and Laura brought even more fully to life through poetry: 

We didn't know then, in January 2020, that the dark shadow of Covid-19 pandemic was about to overtake us. Michael and I sat talking at a wooden picnic table outside Wakulla Springs State Park. Decades ago, the classic monster movie Creature from the Black Lagoon filmed scenes in the springs' pristine water. But we had our own shadows and monsters to deal with. Michael had recently lost his only son, Cosmos, to addiction. My own college-aged son was clawing his way out of a years-long depression. 


Michael began doing art therapy and one day sent Laura the first of many monsters: 


Laura's response, a poem called "Neighbor," is playful and inviting, but also hints at the depth of what's to come in this collection: 

...when it moved in, I wasn't sure 
how this strange being, round and tall, 
would squeeze in through a door so small. 


Emotions are like that — surprising us when they move in, sometimes feeling strange and too big for the space we think they should occupy. That's the beautiful and subtle theme that's woven through this work. 

Hunger is an "Eleven-eyed monster/banging on my door." A monster has a birthday ("They laughed and hugged each friend/and said, 'I never knew you cared.'") A "strange new breed of rooster" finds a way to break free, and a root monster "hums a sweet song/during long lonely hours/of purple-blue moonlight/and dancing with flowers." 

One of my favorite poems from the book is "Green Cave," in which the speaker, wrestling with anger, seeks refuge in the comforting cave of a forsythia bush. The speaker is joined by a "monstrous bird" with blue feet:


The monster sang about being so angry
that it feels like a million arrows are prickling your skin.

Its wings beat to the song's rhythm like a soft, calm breath.

Ever since then, when I'm so mad I can't stay inside,
I go to the green cave and listen for the monster's song.


Michael's perfectly paired drawing: 



I love that both this drawing and the poem present anger as something that we can spend time with, even cozy up to — it's a necessary emotion that demands acknowledgment and company. If we don't spend time with the songs of anger (and anger's cousins — grief, sadness, bewilderment), we'll never move forward. The monster's song, the safety of the green cave, the "rhythm like a soft, calm breath" ... we need them all. 


Welcome to Monsterville is a book for children and a book for everyone. We've all felt the monsters, been the monsters, run from the monsters, and befriended the monsters. This book is a beautiful hat-tip to our human complexity. 

An educator's guide can be downloaded at Laura's website and you can buy this delightful creation wherever you love to buy your favorite delightful creations

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Speaking of delightful, the Poetry Friday round-up this week is being hosted by the lovely and gracious Linda Mitchell at A Word Edgewise. She's not only welcoming us for Poetry Friday, but she's also hosting her annual Clunker Exchange. Details are in this post

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Next week, Irene Latham has invited everyone to a "Moon in June" themed roundup. She's creating educator resources for her upcoming book, The Museum on the Moon

Irene says, "You're invited to share a favorite moon poem (yours or someone else's), a moon story, a moon memory, a moon dream...or whatever your moon-heart desires!" 

More details are here


Thursday, June 15, 2023

Poetry Friday: an unexpected encounter

Photo courtesy of Emily Hopper/Pexels

I got busy last week and didn't get a post done but today I sat down and captured this moment from a recent walk. I try to walk most mornings and one route I take goes by a protected wetland area. 

I don't usually feel the need to protect myself from the inhabitants but, hey, I was, after all, the trespasser in this scenario. 

Unvigilant
by Karen Edmisten 

An unexpected
encounter, the impact as if
a piece of sky pounced.
Thwacked from behind, 
I was startled, unmoored,
looked around.
His innocently cocked head 
fooled me not.
Red-winged blackbird thug.


Friday, June 02, 2023

Poetry Friday: "New Moon Newton" by Oliver Baez Bendorf


Poem-a-Day, from Poets.org, comes through again. 
This was yesterday's poem. Of it, the poet says: 

“Everybody knows that poets are moonstruck. Of course, it’s so cliché, but we have our reasons and they are compelling. How could I not be struck by the force that causes ocean tides? This poem is a surrender to change, to a fresh start, to trust in the benevolent forces not only celestial but also earthly, such as friends and strangers, that have moved me into a brighter, kinder phase of life.”
—Oliver Baez Bendorf


Enjoy, friends! 
And be sure to visit Tricia at The Miss Rumphius Effect for the Poetry Friday round-up. 



New Moon Newton


            God is Change,
            And in the end,
            God prevails.
            But meanwhile . . .
            Kindness eases Change.
            Love quiets fear.
                        —Octavia E. Butler, Parable of the Talents

stars
whole patterns of them
rocking around in the radiant arena
above and around our heads
on a night when the wind
sang like a scream
and the deer stood frozen
as a statue of itself
the sky was dark because
la luna had finished revealing themself
and was not yet ready to 
begin again

and I get it now:

(Read the rest here, at Poets.org.) 

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Photo courtesy of Stux at Pixabay