Poetry Friday: "The Raincoat" by Ada Limón

Continuing with last week's theme of poetry that is simple, lovely, and simply lovely while touching on the intricacies of relationships, I give you Ada Limón's "The Raincoat." 

I'm sharing some of the most significant lines to tempt you to go read the whole thing. It's only twenty-five lines in total, but I know how Poetry Friday is. I know it's sometimes hard to read everything, click through to everything, and take in everything you want to take in. But you won't regret the time it takes to read these twenty-five lines. I promise. 

The Raincoat
by Ada Limón


When the doctor suggested surgery
and a brace for all my youngest years,
my parents scrambled to take me

 

-----

...I never

asked her what she gave up to drive me,

or how her day was before this chore. 

-----

(And the end of the poem:) 

...and I saw a mom take her raincoat off
and give it to her young daughter when
a storm took over the afternoon. My god,
I thought, my whole life I’ve been under her
raincoat thinking it was somehow a marvel
that I never got wet.

Fill in the blanks and read the whole thing here, at Poets.org. 

~~~~~~~~~~

The always-lovely Janice Scully has the round-up this week at Salt City Verse. 

Photo courtesy of Jupilu on Pixabay. 

Poetry Friday: "String Quartet" by Carl Dennis

This is a simple and simply lovely poem by Carl Dennis that masterfully touches on the complexity of music, art, and human interaction. 

String Quartet

by Carl Dennis

Art and life, I wouldn't want to confuse them.

But it's hard to hear this quartet

Without comparing it to a conversation

Of the quiet kind, where no one tries to outtalk

The other participants, where each is eager instead

To share in the task of moving the theme along

From the opening statement to the final bar.

....

(Read the whole poem here.) 

~~~~~~~~~~

Enjoy your time with this string quartet, and be sure to visit Michelle Kogan for this week's Poetry Friday round-up. 

Photo courtesy of Pixabay. 

Poetry Friday: "How Do I Know When a Poem Is Finished?"

This applies to so many artistic endeavors. When is a poem finished? What about that essay? Your book? Does that painting need a little more attention? Should I have another go at this drawing? 

Is anything ever finished, really? There is always more time, more attention we could give. But sometimes we have to say, "This will do. This is good. This is what I had to give, in this moment, at this time in my life, at this stage of my ongoing evolution. This. This is enough." 

How Do I Know When a Poem Is Finished?

by Naomi Shihab Nye

When you quietly close
the door to a room

the room is not finished.

It is resting. Temporarily.
Glad to be without you
for a while.

Now it has time to gather
its balls of gray dust,

....

(Read the rest here, at Poets.org.) 

The lovely, warm, and welcoming Patricia Franz is hosting the Poetry Friday round-up this week at Reverie. 

Poetry Friday: "Water" (an ode to the recent sump pump failure)

Welcome to the "Drying Out the Basement" edition of Poetry Friday. 

Do you have a sump pump? Do you know what happens when your sump pump malfunctions during an extremely rainy April? I hope you don't know. I hope you never know. 

On the other hand, this recent incident could be considered child's play compared to some of my past dances with water. 

My first experience with flooding — later dubbed "The Great Flood" of Fairbanks, Alaska — was when I was seven years old. My father was stationed there and we were living temporarily in a basement apartment until base housing became available. After heavy summer rains, the Chena River overflowed. Our entire apartment filled with water. This is how we left the apartment complex: 

I don't remember the three nice men who whisked us away, but the other occupants of the boat were my mom (holding my little brother), me (pointing at something), and my sister (waving). 

Here are a couple of photos of the aftermath as the flood waters were starting to recede. (Don't worry about that hair! It's just my mother's wig!) 

Given that I have this joyous little occasion on my flood resume, I suppose our recent experience barely rates a mention. No boats were needed in our basement the night the water came in, though at times it felt like a raft might come in handy. (I exaggerate. A little. There was much bailing of water.) Still, I don't recommend losing a sump pump. It's been a long, messy, stressful time. 

Oh, water! The gift that sometimes feels like a curse. Ralph Waldo Emerson understood it so well. 

Water

by Ralph Waldo Emerson 

The water understands
Civilization well;
It wets my foot, but prettily,
It chills my life, but wittily,
It is not disconcerted,
It is not broken-hearted:
Well used, it decketh joy,
Adorneth, doubleth joy:
Ill used, it will destroy,
In perfect time and measure

With a face of golden pleasure
Elegantly destroy.

~~~~~~~~~~

The lovely and incomparable Linda Mitchell has the round-up at A Word Edgewise.