Prompt #38 : Trees & Apologies

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My last prompt was August 3. Today is August 19. I’ve been struggling this summer with an old friend, the demon depression, and just not feeling like writing (or doing much of anything). When you’re feeling low, getting out of bed is often the only goal in a day (fortunately, I’m not doing that poorly this time) and for me there have been days when just getting to work is an achievement. So be it.

Additionally, with all the news in the world being so difficult these days, I know many sensitive people, many of them poets (like any other kind of artist) who’ve been feeling the pain a little more in the heart than at other, less news-anguish-y times. I’ll be posting (to my other blog A Twirly Life) a collection of links I’ve appreciated in the past month, in case you’re interested in how some other people are weathering.

This poetry prompt is about trees! Today, my commute coincided with The Writer’s Almanac and the poem was “The Country of Trees” by Mary Oliver. Unfortunately, the text of the poem is not available, probably because her book Blue Horses is not even published yet!  But it was such a beautiful poem, and it contains a section in which she’s talking about the trees and listing the things into which they have been made: houses, fences, bridges. I thought, “Ah ha! That’s a great idea for a poem prompt” — write about all the things that might have started out life as a tree. What do trees mean to you? Just look around you — on my desk right now I can see a pencil, a book, the desk itself, the poster on my wall, the photo of a tree in a wooden frame. Then there are the wooden soles of my shoes and the wooden buttons on my jacket. I am surrounded by the spirit of trees.

Because I will not leave you without a poem to read, I offer you a couple of other poems about trees, one “rather slight” and one serious.

Cover_kilmer_1914_trees_and_other_poems

“Trees” by Joyce Kilmer is perhaps the most famous tree poem ever. The opening couplet, “I think that I shall never see / A poem as lovely as a tree,” has been much lampooned, but it’s actually a great poem. Read all about it here. There’s even a very cute picture of Mr. Kilmer as a college kid — did anyone else always assume Joyce was a woman? Bad on me!

“Tree” by Jane Hirshfield is one of the poems I have closest to my heart. You can read it here, and hear her reading it too. I love the small details, the sounds (oh! the branch tips brushing!) and the questions it poses so gently: who will last, what is important to you, what are you going to choose? This poem has special meaning for those of us in California. Cupertino has many redwood trees, and they’re not getting any smaller!

Tree
 
It is foolish
to let a young redwood   
grow next to a house.
 
Even in this   
one lifetime,
you will have to choose.
 
That great calm being,
this clutter of soup pots and books—
 
Already the first branch-tips brush at the window.   
Softly, calmly, immensity taps at your life.
 
(The photo at the top of the post is from a great site that describes all the places in the SF Bay Area where you can hike and seek old-growth redwood trees.)

Prompt #37: Love and the Older Body

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Love poetry! Of course — the romance, the longing for connection, the passion — the heartbreak! So much love poetry is written by the young and for the young. And it should be that way. Do any browsing at all, in books or online, and love poetry is everywhere. At the Academy of American Poets, their collection of Love Poems is legion, beginning with the most famous perhaps of all, Elizabeth Barrett Browning‘s famous “How Do I Love Thee, Let Me Count The Ways.”

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

But, love is not only for the young, and love poetry is not only written by young poets. I stumbled upon a poem this week, on The Writer’s Almanac, called “Surfer Girl” by Barbara Crooker. The speaker in the poem is “on the far side of sixty,” “athletic as a sofa.” The poem opens with her walking on the beach, spotting a surfer, “sleek as a seal.” The poem goes on as the speaker imagines herself in a younger body, “lithe and long-limbed,” with her “short tousled hair full of sunshine.” The poem describes the health and power of a younger body, a young person’s ambitions and dreams, “Nothing more important now than this balance between / water and air, the rhythm of in and out.” This poem is about longing and love, for the surfer boy and for the younger self remembered.

Another poem I found this week, titled “You Make Love Like the Last Snow Leopard” by Paige Taggart, came through my Poem-A-Day email subscription from Poets.org. I don’t always have time to read them when they come, but this title really caught my eye. What would that be like, to be the last snow leopard on earth, and to make love — would it be fiercely, with fear and the knowledge of certain death, impending loss, would it be tenderly, aware of an aching body, the absence of youthful power? I find Taggart’s poem strange, with ambiguous language, some disquieting sexual allusions and unusual images of time passing. In the first stanza, “Time hunts your shadows.” In the second stanza, the speaker addresses her lover, “Your white hair flocked. It’s old age that makes / you kill for food,” pairing an image of old age with an image of violent survival. The last two lines are the most disturbing and beautiful in the poem, I think: “A cliff of umbrellas and memory / shaping your every move.”

These two poems spoke to me of the ways we think of physical love as we get older: full of the aches and memories of the body, and the longing of the heart for something powerful in today’s experience. Love isn’t only for the young.

You can see some of Paige Taggart’s jewelry “Bling that Sings” here on Tumblr and here at her website. She seems to have a mission to decorate poets wherever she finds them.

If you want to write a poem, write a love poem, modeled after one of the ones on the Poets.org website. If you are inspired to try something else, imagine what it would be like to be a passionate young soul trapped in an older and no-longer powerful body. Describe the way the body moves and the way the spirit of love moves and how those types of motion agree or disagree, work in harmony or collide.

The photo of the female swimmer is by Etta Clark, from her book of the same name, “Growing Old is Not for Sissies.”

Prompt #36 : On Time (and Poems on Time)

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While thinking about how to get this prompt posted on time, it occurred to me that time is one of the central organizing themes of poetry (and of art) — time probably has more poems written about it than just about anything else except love and death. Time, Love and Death. The big three. Wouldn’t you say that poems of place (longing for a time past or a future perfect?), poems of heroic deeds and odes (remember the time that so-and-so did whatever-that-was), elegies (lost times with ones loved), and even the lowly limerick (there once was a —) are all about time?

The Academy of American Poets has a whole section of their newly redesigned website (I am NOT a fan, btw) on the subject: Carpe Diem: Poems for Making the Most of Time. Directing you there today, to read poems by poets as various as Robert Herrick, Horace and Tony Hoagland (to only name the poets whose names start with H), saves me a lot of time to write my own poetry. What a deal. There are dozens of poems that this link, go for it!

And then, write your own poem about time. Does its passing frighten you or please you? Remember a time when you laughed, when you cried, when you were with friends. Are you young and wishing you were old enough for — ? Are you old and wishing time would unwind, reboot, just stop for once??

Edna St. Vincent Millay wrote a tiny poem that many of you may not know, but you’ll recognize the image she uses. She could have just said, “Why isn’t there enough time for all the things I want to do with my life?” but she didn’t. She did this. Enjoy.

First Fig

Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950)

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends-
It gives a lovely light!

(I think there is a reason she named this poem “First Fig” but I can’t remember it now. Someone look it up and report back. Please! )

(Photo of Miss Millay from Wikipedia, by Arnold Genthe.)

Prompt #35 (Only a teeny bit late) : Kenneth Koch on Beauty

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Inspired by a great article (by Heather Altfeld at the North American Review) on the challenges of teaching poetry and teaching beauty, I came here to re-post said article and realized I’d forgotten to post poetry prompt #35 this past Sunday (July 20). Sigh.

To atone for the errors of my ways, I’m giving you a chance to read a really great (and quite long) poem by Kenneth Koch, a giant of American poetry during the 1950s, and a devoted and important teacher who taught teachers of poetry how to teach poetry. I was introduced to Koch’s best-known book on the subject, Rose, Where Did You Get That Red, during my training to be a poet/teacher with California Poets in the Schools. It’s a great little book. You can read mine anytime you want. (Altfeld’s article talks about Koch and his methods.)

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The method Koch taught is about imitation: pick a great poem and get kids to imitate its essential qualities. “Rose, Where Did You Get That Red” is the name of a poem written by a child who was imitating William Blake’s “The Tyger” — a poem which essentially asks a creature of God how and where it acquired its power and beauty. (The image featured with this blog is Blake’s poem and illustration.) You can read an excerpt of Koch’s book here.

Your task today is to read Kenneth Koch’s poem “On Beauty by Kenneth Koch” and then imitate it. Just write for a while about what beauty means to you. Be as free-wheeling and long-winded as you like. Be colorful and descriptive and don’t hold back. Call it a poem and call it a day. Or, if you’re inspired, share your efforts with us!

Here’s the last stanza of Koch’s poem, and I think the sentiment is fine.

Capture

On the Feeble Attempt to Teach Beauty By Heather Altfeld

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A must read. A lovely article. Poetry, teaching, beauty, children, yes.

On the Feeble Attempt to Teach Beauty By Heather Altfeld.

Photos from the San Mateo County Fair

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Wow, “Running of the Poets” was completely fun. I had a great time with a group of truly fine poets and one little boy: Keith Ekiss, Robin Ekiss, Maurine Killough, Kalamu Chaché  and Santa Clara Poet Laureate David Perez. The audience was good, too, which I didn’t really expect at an event known for livestock and screamer rides. The quilts were stunning. David Perez and I had lime cake, which was divine, courtesy of some cute 4-H-ers. I hope I get asked back next year.

The featured photo here is of our hostess, Caroline Goodwin (San Mateo County PL), with David Perez and me. We were exhausted from running and having our picture taken, I think.

This is a shot of Poetess Kalamu Chaché — poetry spiritual leader and laureate of East Palo Alto.

photo by ann of jsb pkc and cg

This is the wall of poem entries. Dazzling.

poets against the wall of poems

Here’s one of me painting a “poem” on an art exhibit elsewhere at the fair. Photo credit by David Perez.

poem with jsb hand smc fair

Here’s a great pig.

fine pink pig

Here are some awesome jars of mango and lemon jam.

mango lemon jam and jsb

 

The rest of the photos can be seen on my Flickr album.

Prompt (Late) #34 : Dragons!

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I wrote this prompt late, and I’m posting it even later. But I didn’t want to waste the work I’d done, so here you go.

My daughter is in love with dragons. She’s working up a fellowship proposal about them, so in the spirit of solidarity, I looked up some dragon poems.

Many people are in love with dragons, and not surprisingly, there is a lot of great dragon poetry — some ancient, some Chinese, some Nordic, much American. Lots of dragon poems are for kids, but not all.

Here is a sampling. Read about dragons and then think about why you might be scared, fascinated, ignorant, or in awe. Then write a dragon poem yourself. What’s in the dark with a flaming breath? Who will bring you good luck or death?

custard-the-dragon

From The Poetry Foundation:

drag_warrior

 

 

Loving Day Reading Photos

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Almost a month later, I’m finally getting around to posting photos.

The second in my series of “Unsung Holiday” poetry readings, the Loving Day reading (June 12, 2014) was a lovely event — we had a great turnout and the venue was perfect. Here is a photo of me with my featured readers, (left to right) Michael Cross, (yours truly, Jennifer Swanton Brown), Erica Goss, and Bob Dickerson.

I opened the reading with Natasha Trethewey‘s poem about her parents interracial marriage, “Early Evening, Frankfurt Kentucky” — which of course has the important quality of not mentioning their races. When she was born in 1966 her parents’ marriage was illegal in Mississippi. Her birth certificate listed her mother’s race as “Colored” and her father’s as “Canadian.”

This photo is “of me in my element” taken by my friend Ellen.

ellens photo of me cropped

The Euphrat Gallery at De Anza College is a great place for a poetry reading and the staff there were friendly, helpful, attentive and smart. Just what you need when you’re a nervous M.C.

Amanda Erica Dave Denny Adrian

Joining Erica (second from the left) in this photo are (left to right) Amanda Williamsen, Dave Denny, and Adrian Kolb. Amanda (who was a featured reader at the April Fool’s Day event) read a riotous poem during our open mic session. Dave Denny, is of course, my friend and Cupertino’s first PL, and Adrian is a member of the Cupertino Library Commission and the captain of my Poetry Posse — without whom most Cupertino PL events would be a mess or non-existent.

Behind us is a whirling sculpture of nails — a remarkable work of art. I wish I had jotted down the name of that De Anza student artist.

At the Literary Stage

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At the Literary Stage. Hosted by Caroline Goodwin, I’ll be there will David Perez — we’ll be representing Santa Clara County at our sister county’s fair.

I’ll be running with the poets tonight at the San Mateo County Fair! Should be fun. Come eat your corn dogs and hear you some poetry!

Photos from the event can be found at this July 19, 2014 post.

Prompt #33 “I Love My Hair” Steven Foster & Lady Gaga

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Last night (at the San Jose subZERO festival) I sat at a table writing poems on demand with key words provided by the poem demanders. It was fun. It was hard work, too, oh boy oh boy. One woman wrote that she wanted a poem about being anxious about the future, graduation, “but I love my hair.” I was intrigued, and wrote her a poem about her wonderful hair — even though she had disappeared and I had no idea what she looked like (by the time her poem prompt got to me, furiously typing behind the screen…).

Hair is a very sensual human characteristic, right up there with lips and eyes. People do love their hair. Or they hate it. Hair is the subject of song and painting, story and myth. And yes, there are many poems about hair. Go to The Poetry Foundation and type “hair” in the search box. Then limit the 1786 items found by “poem” and you still will be offered 1000 choices. Click this link if you don’t believe me.

So, your prompt today is to write about hair. Write about your hair, how much you like it, miss it, what it’s like to get it cut, the way it falls in your eyes when you’re working, or the way it falls across your lover’s cheek. Write about your lover’s hair. Write about the hair that flies across a garden to be found by a bird, making part of a nest. Write about cat hair on your best suit coat. You can do it.

If you need inspiration:

Stephen_Foster

Or, if you’ve gotten this far in to this post, check out Lady Gaga singing “Hair” and then see if you can write a poem about something that means that much to you. (Have fun, love your Cup PL)