Archive for October 2012

“Fern-Earred Angel” (Described in Quatrains)

October 14, 2012

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Fern-Eared Angel

The shell of angel ear so fine
a curve, smaller (perhaps) than earth’s
ball surface (and grey stone), still births
bromeliad, fern whose sprung spine

grows fringed with fingered fronds that reach
into the cemetery air
their reversed message, a green clar-
ion (hushed) call, whose unfurled speech,

pronounced by ear, not lips, by dust–
blocked-breeze accumulation–
a granite annunciation–
seeds all who pass with unstained trust.

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The above is a poem written in “enveloped quatrains” for the prompt by With Real Toads, hosted by the wonderful Kerry O’Connor.  As Kerry explains (much more clearly), a famous poem in this form is Tennyson’s In Memoriam, and the prompt included various cool photographs of cemetery statuary.  These, particularly the photo by Isadora Gruye below, reminded me of the beautiful angel I saw (and drew above) on a visit to La Recoleta Cemetery in Buenos Aires, which had ferns growing from her ear, wings and gown.  
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Do visit With Real Toads to read Kerry’s article on this form and check out the other poetry.  Also, if you’ve got time, check out my books!!!!!  Poetry, GOING ON SOMEWHERE, (by Karin Gustafson, illustrated by Diana Barco). 1 Mississippi -counting book for lovers of rivers, light and pachyderms, or Nose Dive. Nose Dive is available on Kindle for just 99 cents! Nose Dive really is very funny and light hearted, and 1 Mississippi is a lot of fun for little teeny kids. 

“I’ll Show You Fear In A Stackfull….”

October 13, 2012

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I’ll show you fear in a
stackfull of fresh-pressed clothes

I know it will not truly jump
across the floor, that I won’t bump
into it when three feet away–almost every day
I use it virtually–
virtuously–
wrinkles raising a very different fear–
imagine my mother here–bending
over the board, sighing willfully
that I–no one–could–
like she did–
a trip–slam, slip–everything perfectly
flattened before packed
like some
old idea
of the planet, even a flounced skirt
pressed into a rectangular
Western state–I really
can–
from across the
divide–

I own
my own now–and don’t
bother with board – on my couch, bed, rug–trying not
to be ruffled by
inner
shudder–I know its burn
won’t bite
independently, but worry, in my rushed flush, I just
might press the clothes I am actually wearing, scorching an
imprint like that birthmark on my left thigh that
looks like the map of some far
crannied
continent.

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Here’s a draft poem of sorts for a wonderful prompt hosted by Stu McPherson for dVerse Poets Pub on fear and phobia.  I am afraid that almost everything I write has some root in fear, so I focused on phobia.  In this case, of irons (ha!), and I really do not hook it onto my mother, but I figure this made for a better story.   For a deeper fear poem, see my “Englyn” on thoughts of death.  

And check out dVerse for wonderful poetry.  And if you have time, check out my books!  Poetry, GOING ON SOMEWHERE, (by Karin Gustafson, illustrated by Diana Barco). 1 Mississippi -counting book for lovers of rivers, light and pachyderms, or Nose Dive, a very fun novel that is perfect for a pool or beachside escape. Nose Dive is available on Kindle for just 99 cents!

Sometimes (Unsweetened) – Englyn unodi union

October 11, 2012

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Sometimes (Unsweetened)

I sometimes understand that we’ll all die,
without last try-again.
No refill of siphoned sand,
do-over (do what we can).

And that I too, and all I love, will die.
And my cry does not call
like the mourning dove, a fall/
rise, but has no interval.

an Englyn unodi union

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Here’s my attempt at an Englyn unodi union (whatever that is!), a Welsh form, for dVerse Poets Pub. Form for All.  For more info, check out the wonderful article by Sue Judd and Gay Reiser Cannon at dVerse.  All I can say is that it’s a syllabic form with a slightly odd rhyme scheme that probably works better in Welsh or in someone else’s hands. 

But since my two-stanza version has (with the title and little identifying material at the end, exactly 55 words, please also tell it to the G-Man.)

P.S. The photo is of the old Domino Sugar Factory in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.  

“Can’t Resist Myself” – Unreliable Narrator/Good Old Etch-a-Sketch

October 11, 2012

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Can’t Resist Myself

I’ll lower all taxes zippity doodah-
but it will be oh so reveney neutrah–
(and I sure know about revenue hoohah
‘Cause I was once a leveraged poobah.)

Close them loopholes fee-fum-fo–
But not a hole that you might know.
(If you deduce which deductions go
It won’t be cause I told you so!)

Now listen up good, while I get this right–
I will not change a thing you like!
(Least not while talking in this mike.)
(Least not in the middle of this fight.)

Leader leader zing zing zing!
Let my etch-a-sketch ring ring ring!
(Shake – is that how you work this thing?)
(Okay, got it, bingity bing.)

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I am posting this for the With Real Toads challenge to write a poem in the voice of an “unreliable narrator.”  To be read in the rhythms of Vachel Lindsay.

(Sorry, couldn’t resist.)

P.S. I appreciate that it may be a bit cryptic for those reading outside the U.S.  Again, apologies.

Game Is Still On (The Tenth!) But Here’s Hoping–

October 10, 2012

Go Yankees!

I’ve posted this picture before (a watercolor by yours truly) but it sometimes proves lucky.  So, with apologies for those who’ve seen it (and for those outside of NYC!), here’s hoping.

In Swat Valley, Pakistan, October 2012 (For Malala Yousafzai)

October 9, 2012

In Swat Valley, Pakistan, October 2012  (For Malala Yousafzai)

She wanted to go to school.
(They shot her in the head and neck.)
She could read and write
and did.
(They pulled her off the school bus.)
Cardboard journals and online, from age 11 to 14–
(Which one is Malala? they demanded,)
pushing for the education–
(gun muzzles ready–)
of her fellow girls.
(“Let this be a lesson,” they said.)

One wants to respond with something ringing
about the power
of a schoolgirl’s voice, but this is a real
schoolgirl–her voice sweet,
slightly nasal,
accented
with sincerity–and one needs
to just weep
for a while, all the time
vowing to learn from her,
a lesson.

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I’m trying, but can’t really write a poem about something as raw, unspeakable, heartbreaking as the shooting of Malala Yousafzai, age 14, by Taliban gunmen in the Swat Valley, Pakistan earlier today.  Malala became famous in 2009 at age 11 because of her part in a short documentary film about the closing down of girls’ education in the Swat Valley in Pakistan by the Taliban (made by Adam B. Ellick.)  The link above is to a portion of the film.  This is the link to the longer version:  “Class Dismissed” Swat Valley  
Since the  film, Malala (who is a captivatingly brave and perceptive child) has became a spokesperson for girls’ education in Pakistan, even winning a national youth prize.  Taliban gunmen forced their way onto her school bus today, shooting her in the head and neck.  She has survived the shooting.  (The Taliban said earlier that if she survived, they would continue to target her.)  
Thoughts and prayers go to Malala and her family; her father, also loving, brave, articulate, was highlighted in the film.  (He ran a girls’ school in Swat before it was shut down by the Taliban, and largely destroyed by the Pakistan Army.)   I don’t quite know what one can do about these things – other than to try to stay informed and possibly give to charities that focus on similar issues?  Nicholas Kristoff of the NY Times tends to be a source of information on such charities. 
(P.S. – I find the situation in Swat and for girls in Pakistan and Afghanistan incredibly  painful, but don’t mean to suggest here that American troops are the answer.  I don’t know what the answer is – I think knowledge and outrage help–) 

“The Girl Not Wearing (At Just This Moment) The Pearl Earring” (From Steen to Vermeer)

October 8, 2012

Jan Steen, “Sick Woman,” 1665

Every week Tess Kincaid of Magpie Tales posts a pictorial prompt to be used as a writing exercise.  This week’s was a very cool painting by Jan Steen which brought to my mind a similar painting (at least in terms of costuming) by Johannes Vermeer (posted below.)  I am also linking this to dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night, hosted by Joe Hesch.

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The Girl Not Wearing (At Just This Moment) The Pearl Earring

She found a model’s life not as portrayed.
Hours sitting passed as years – her mind glazed
like the buffed veneers –
And talk about Vermeer–Johannes V.==
He demanded picture perfect, that was he!
She had to stand too==ugh!  While jolly old Jan S.,
leavened sessions with a partner, so, “why, yes,”
she’d said, to the palpating of posed wrist,
and yes again when palpate took a twist
from arm to breast to hip to inner thigh
as they’d played ‘doctor’–not so patient–(sigh….)

Which meant:  she stood once more for Master V.
who didn’t mind the curve of tummy’s “C.”
The jacket still fit great–okay, so maybe
the skirt waist had to be let out–”Don’t worry,” Johannes said,
“for now just please, oh please, don’t move your head.”

Johannes Vermeer, “Woman Holding a Balance”, around 1665

Check out both dVerse and Magpie Tales. And, also, if you have time, check out my books! Poetry, GOING ON SOMEWHERE, (by Karin Gustafson, illustrated by Diana Barco). 1 Mississippi -counting book for lovers of rivers, light and pachyderms, or Nose Dive, a very fun novel that is perfect for a pool or beachside escape. Nose Dive is available on Kindle for just 99 cents!

Thinking About Election In Relationship To the Troops

October 7, 2012

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I don’t like to make this blog overtly political.  I am always concerned that my words will have more power to alienate than to persuade.

But one issue feels important enough to me today to take the risk of speaking out; this relates to the effect of the upcoming election upon the lives of our servicemen and women.

Here’s my concern  – current Republican candidates are very keen on heightening military spending, but they seem to focus on spending on the “military” as a machine – an amorphous weapons complex – rather than upon the men and women who actually make up  the armed forces.

Although the GOP has touted itself as the party of the military in this past, this election feels quite different. Romney rarely mentions servicemen and women, not even to give a token mumble of gratitude.  In the meantime, Republicans in the Senate recently killed a bill that would have promoted jobs for veterans as policemen, fire fighters and in the national parks.

Sure, there are politicians in both parties who ducked military service and who have also kept their sons and daughters out of service.  (Joe Biden, whose son has served in Iraq, is a notable exception.)

But Romney seems particularly detached from military service.  There’s a pretty well-known video on youtube in which Romney is confronted by a gay Vietnam veteran.  What is especially striking to me about the video is Romney’s initial greeting to the man (who is the same age) in which Romney implies some equation between his own year of service to his church (in France) with the man’s service in Vietnam.

I’m sorry, but a year in France, even doing the undoubtedly unpopular work of trying to convert Frenchmen to Mormonism, does not compare with service in the Vietnam War.  (Military service is not like income tax; reducible by a decision to tithe to your church.)

Romney’s closeness to Benjamin Netanyahu, the hawkish prime minister of Israel, and Romney and Ryan’s tough talk on Iran, makes this detachment from the actual men and women who serve particularly worrisome.  Our troops should not be pawns in a global strategy game; especially one in which decisions affecting their fate seem so explicitly linked to the decisions of politicians in other nations.

Obama looks tired.  His hair has significantly greyed in the last four years.  Perhaps I’m naive (and those of you who disagree with me will say that I am.)  But I can’t help feeling that some of this aging directly arises from an intense consciousness of his responsibilities as commander in chief.  Michelle Obama and Jill Biden have made the families of servicemen and women their particular cause.  Obama also seems to have taken an active interest in the personal aspects of military affairs = going to Dover to meet returning coffins and repeatedly sharing condolences with families of the fallen.

Is it possible that Obama’s views are affected by the fact that so many in military service are people of color, people who do not have substantial financial means?

I don’t know.   (I don’t even want to get in the subject of a draft here.)

Has Obama handled military matters perfectly?  No.  (The question of why we are in Afghanistan even through 2014 is immensely troubling.)

But for all of that, I am convinced  that Obama feels deeply and personally his responsibility for these young men and women.  They are not alien beings to him, part of the 47% (who do not pay income tax) or even part of the 1% (the very small number who serve.)  This awareness seems to be me to be supremely important in a commander-in-chief.

“School Cafeteria” (Breaking of Ice Cream Bar)

October 6, 2012

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School Cafeteria

In the jimjam
din and smell,
he stood up
to peel the chocolate shell
off of his ice cream bar,
to squeeze on
ketchup,
mustard, layering the chocolate
back, the mucked and barked
vanilla gooing as if
it bled, pussed,
or stuck
its tongue out–then
bit down.  A boy,
he was,
who needed attention.

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I am posting the above (based on a memory from first grade) for dVerse Poets Pub’s Poetics Challenge on Foodloose – hosted by the wonderful Claudia Schoenfeld.  Sorry that it’s a bit less than appetizing! 

Check out the great poets at dVerse.  Also, if you have time this Columbus Day weekend – check out my books! Poetry, GOING ON SOMEWHERE, (by Karin Gustafson, illustrated by Diana Barco). 1 Mississippi -counting book for lovers of rivers, light and pachyderms, or Nose Dive, a very fun novel that is perfect for a pool or beachside escape. Nose Dive is available on Kindle for just 99 cents!

Leaves Land (Friday Flash 55)

October 5, 2012

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Oh Leaves

Leaves land
on land
on leaves
(grass sleeves)
on rock
(where they lie stock
still),
or on hill
(where they spill
and turn)
on fern,
fall from high
to cow pie
or get caught
on some sly
twig–not
their own–which
they’ve flown–oh
leaves–till they land
on land
and leaves, other
leaves.

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The above is my extremely belated Flash Friday 55 for the wonderful G-man. Go tell him even late! And rub some leaves in his hair!

Also, if you have time this Columbus Day weekend – check out my books! Poetry, GOING ON SOMEWHERE, (by Karin Gustafson, illustrated by Diana Barco). 1 Mississippi -counting book for lovers of rivers, light and pachyderms, or Nose Dive, a very fun novel that is perfect for a pool or beachside escape. Nose Dive is available on Kindle for just 99 cents!

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