Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ category

The Bold (and French Roast) Now

October 18, 2012

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The Bold (And French Roast) Now

My cup
runneth over.
For just when I should grab and sip,
mind
blips, fazes
against the machine, leans
into pre-occupied
scenes, grinding all its be’s
and not-
to-be’s, while the
beans stream blacklit
beams, a splash
lashing me like Ulysses
(of old) to the
mast of the bold
(and french roast)
now,
insisting against my sirens (“sleep”) that I
drink deep
until I–
oops–
do.

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I am posting the above poem for a dVerse Poets’ Pub meeting the bar challenge hosted by Victoria C. Slotto that focuses on “steampunk” (mixing up disparate things) and enjambment (basically the poetic science of run-over lines.)   (Steampunk is still a bit foreign to me, but enjambment is an endlessly interesting subject I think.)  A fascinating prompt. 

And I, by the way, am primarily a tea drinker. 

Check out all the great poets at dVerse and if you’ve got time, 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.

“Thresher Thrashed”

October 17, 2012

Thresher Thrashed

I tried to scythe my tie to you,
but sighed inside, the tie too wide;
so drew a chainsaw, sawed that chain–
soon saw my efforts were in vain.

No axe could hew, the thresher thrashed,
last-ditch combine was all but trashed.
What could I do but chew and chew,
chew what tethered me to you.

I gnawed into the night’s chill gloom,
I gnawed until mouth turned to wound–
then in the furrowed mists of day
I saw that you had gone away.

You’d gone (it seemed) long long before,
but left me with the lead I wore,
except that side once held by you
now flapped with every single chew.

I lay me down on that same ground
like a plant whose harvest’s come and gone,
my teeth splayed kernels, frayed tie root
so very still from head to foot.

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The above is a draft poem written for a Real Toads prompt hosted by Isadora Guya about the “mechanical harvest.” Yes, it’s kind of self-pitying and pathetic! (I say pathetic because I’m always suspicious of the martyr persona in the first person!) And maybe “lead ” should be “bond” or “leash” or “tether” or “cord”? I don’t know. At least it has a combine.

 Despite the poem’s deficiencies, I want to acknowledge a debt here to Joy Ann Jones (Hedgewitch) whose wonderful poem Cottonwood uses a chain saw that I found quite inspiring.

PS – for those interested in process, this poem’s been edited a bit since first posting – the “long before” couplet originally hinging on “long ago” and something that rhymed with that.

Check out With Real Toads, and also 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.

“Hot And Cold Do Not Always Equal Tepid”

October 16, 2012

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Hot And Cold Do Not Always Equal Tepid

She felt as cold as unsparked coal
but heat turned up consumed him whole.

The nights so long, the sheets so blank,
he kicked them off his heated shank–
his metabolism so very high
he could barely stand a cover nigh;

while shivered she in downy bed
despite the fire inside her head
that smoldered behind her mental blocks
(requiring her to wear thick socks).

And then they met; their “fingers” touched–
I won’t detail this overmuch.
Suffice to say, they realized soon
that every sun can use a moon.

Said he to her, open up that door,
I’m the furnace you’ve been looking for.

Said she to him (and nearly weeping),
I’m that cool balm that you’ve been seeking.

So, they clove to, held each to each,
making warmth whene’er in reach;
and if not exactly regulated
felt both, at least, well conjugated.

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My offering for dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night.  Check out the wonderful poets at dVerse and, if you have some 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.

A Question Of Cropping and Lady Bugs

October 15, 2012

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“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.

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.