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“Poet’s Room” (Of One’s Own)

August 27, 2012

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Poet’s Room

There’s a certain slant of light
in the room where the women
come and go
talking of Michelangelo.

The walls, I’m pretty sure,
are of clay and wattles made
(though the wattles
don’t show much from this angle), and

in the icebox,
there are plums
(which you are probably saving
for breakfast.)

It houses such stuff
as dreams are made of (along with the plums), and
about as much reality
as humankind can bear.

it is somewhere
i have never traveled, despite
repeated tries, but i make myself believe,
that,
as I walk out one evening,
I will find it==

perhaps not until the dews
grow quivering
and chill–
perhaps not until winter itself
is icumen’ in–I don’t care–
as long as there’s still
a certain slant of light,
enough
to write by.

***********************************

The above is my “found” homage of sorts to Virginia Woolf, Emily Dickinson, T.S. Eliot, William Carlos Williams, Shakespeare,  more Eliot, e.e. cummings, W.H. Auden, more Dickinson, and Ezra Pound.  In other words, I’ve stolen a bunch of really terrific lines from all these great poets!  (In exchange for my everlasting love.)

The poem responds to  the pictorial prompt posted by Tess Kincaid of  Magpie Tales, the Andrew Wyeth painting, slightly modified above, “Big Room.”  (I’m not sure the room in my mind actually looks too much like this one.)

I am also linking the poem to dVerse Poets Pub’s Open Link Night. 

Check out Magpie Tales and dVerse for wonderful poetry and while you are at it, 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!

Categories: poetry, Uncategorized
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Comments: 59 Comments

“Did I Mention The Olives?” (Bougain-veal-ia) – Shadorma

August 27, 2012

“Bougainvillean Dreams” by Jaime Clark

Did I Mention The Olives?

He ordered,
beneath pink courtyard
vines, the Mounds
of Venus—
two scoops mozzarelle on veal–
cheeks deep pink then too.

*******************************

The above is a very silly version of Shadorma – a six line form with a set syllabic pattern – written for Kerry O’Connor’s With Real Toads challenge involving the use of Shadormas and wonderful “macro” photographs by Jaime Clark.   Check out Kerry’s article for info on Shadormas, and more beautiful pics!             .

PS – as a longterm vegetarian, hate to make a joke involving veal- in other words – maybe stick to the olives and mozzarelle! And Pasta and Fagioli!  

 

Categories: poetry, Uncategorized
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Comments: 12 Comments

“Night Storm Bath- Florida Coast” (Also Borg de Nobel)

August 25, 2012
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“Two Parts of the Road as a Whole” by Borg de Nobel

Night Storm Bath – Florida Coast

Thunder so low (rumble)
overhead and again
(rumble)
that I begin to seriously question
a stress-outing bath,
here at my mother’s,
where we didn’t fight all day
except
at the last good night
maybe,
murmured words, including ‘ruined’
and ‘life,’ mis-erupting (rumble)
and mis-(rumble) interpreted, and not
resolved (ever),
but done for this night
maybe.

Only now my brain quirks picturing
predator lightning finding
this tub;
bathwater conducting
a yellow zig-zag around my form astride
limp shower curtain.

The sensible part of me thinks
about the Atlantic Ocean,
two blocks away, a watery elephant
to the flea
of this small tub;
the sensible part of me
understanding Copernicus, i.e. that the earth itself
is not a center
of all that much.

Only the flea,
in this case, is also
me (sort of), so that even
as I turn on the faucet determinedly,
self-preservation
leaves the plug ajar
till the hot is nearly gone, and
all that lingers
is a tepid inch that barely accommodates
a moment’s irritated scoop.

Shimmer-(rumble)
shivering, I
towel safe
dry, wishing terribly now
for either excitement
or redemption,
though I do not expect,
at this point in my life, anything
totally welcome (rumble)
to come in a flash.

***************************************

The above draft poem–I call almost anything fresh off the press a draft until I feel really certain of it – was written for a dVerse Poets Pub Poetics Prompt hosted by Claudia Schoenfeld that features the wonderful Dutch painter Borg de Nobel.  Many of Borg’s lovely paintings may be found at her website http://borgeous.wordpress.com.   I don’t think the above poem does much justice to Borg’s painting (and especially not to the great elephant) but inspiration works in odd ways; i.e. you write what you write!  

I am also linking this poem to the Open Link Day of the wonderful poetry blog, With Real Toads. 

So check out dVerse, Borg, and if you have time left over (!) 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!  (Come on!) 

Categories: poetry, Uncategorized
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Comments: 39 Comments

A Misunderstanding At the Voting Booth? Oh, wait, is this a Gun Show? Hmmm… Friday Flash 55

August 24, 2012

Misunderstanding

No Driver’s License?  Can’t let you step into that booth.

Sure, you’re registered, but no Drivee, no Votee.   See, where it says–right on that–err…

Vision impairment?

Wait – you came in here to buy firearms?

Geez, sorry, ma-am, right this way; no, this way.  And just, huh, watch where you’re pointing that thing.

******************************************

The above is exactly (minus title) 55 words so do tell it to the wonderful G-Man. 

I must note an inaccuracy in my 55 – most of the new voter I.D. laws do not require a driver’s license, but they do require that a voter have a government-issued photo I.D. (They will not accept a student I.D. or other non=government photo I.D.s, or a non-photo government I.D. such as a social security card or a birth certificate.)  No one, even those promoting the laws, appears to have documented a significant instance of voter fraud, in the sense of ineligible persons voting.  (The places, it seems to me, where questions of fraud have been raised have been in the counting and certifying as in Florida 2000.) 

I admit also that most states also do require some form of government-issued ID for the regular purchase of a firearm.  There appears to be a pretty large “gun show loophole” to most gun laws, however, that allows for sales of guns with extremely little (or no) regulation. 

Speaking of guns, my deepest sympathies to all the victims of the shootings in my dear New York City today.  

Categories: New York City, news, Uncategorized
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Comments: 12 Comments

“What She Was Into For A While”

August 23, 2012

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What She Was Into For a While

Take P.G. Wodehouse.
Clare did, meeting me every morning
with ‘what ho what ho
what ho?” and, when I
was not about to be called ‘Dingo’,
shimmering into talk of
“the good old F & B” (her brother,
Kieran)  (Flesh
and Blood).

Though even Wodehouse
was better than the bands. That one
actually started
with Kieran I think,
who may already
have been using–don’t know for sure–only
that he was crazed by then, bringing his
guitar to school to practice
in the bathroom, cradling it
on the boys’ room floor, which I thought
freaky enough, but his fingers oh so fast, man, like
he’d taught himself to
flicker.

Though Clare, hurt the way he seemed
to just stop caring, sniffed ‘heavy metal,’
‘not her thing,’ her profile thinning against
her laptop;  again, again
clicking on some My Space rif
(or ten) that (from my point of view) could never
buffer
long enough.

The worse was when I’d go
with her to a beer-amped
cave to actually see the stupid
band and one of the guys would
unhook himself
from the stage, buzzing
nonchalantly to
her be; ready, I could see, to take her
like a cigarette, quick and half-
smoked down, and I’d ‘hey Clare,’ even whispering
‘what ho?’ as if
a joke could break
the spin, but had to snake
my own way home, trying to shake
her out of me like my own
hair
out of my eyes.

At least she gave up on each band guy soon enough,
not admitting that the music sucked,
but that, well, it wasn’t so great after all, and we’d sit
on her parents’ couch, Kieran gone for good
then, gone
for bad,
watching Jeeves again and again
smooth out
everything.

****************************************

Ah.  So here’s a rather odd draft poem that’s actually from a sort-of verse novel, called “A Good Thing.”  I am posting it for dVerse Poets “Meeting the Bar”, hosted today by Victoria C. Slotto; the prompt to create a character. 

The references to the wonderful P.G. Wodehouse, author of Jeeves and Wooster series, which I am quite sure Clare will agree are much much better as books (though there was also a very fun series starring Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie.) 

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Comments: 14 Comments

“By Any Other Name” (For Todd Akin, and even, perhaps, Paul Ryan)

August 21, 2012

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By Any Other Name

I want it to hurt,” he said,
(meaning, it hurt).

Though she did not get pregnant,
(meaning, perhaps, that the pain was ‘legitimate,’)

even though he had no gun,
(if a hard sell for ‘forcible.’)

Still, her body, it seemed, shut down,
(meaning, hurt)

for some period afterwards
(years),

as he forced himself, these times, into her head,
(which is to say, as he hurt her),

just as he had wanted,
(no matter what words you use),

and she had not.

*********************************************

The above is a draft poem written in response to the remarks of Todd Akin, six=term Missouri Representative and current Senatorial candidate,  about the lack of need for a rape exception for abortion bans due to his “understanding” that many women’s bodies “shut down” during “legitimate” rape and thereby avoid pregnancy.  Many Republicans have distanced themselves from Akin since his remarks–they really really really want that Senate seat (and there is concern, for some reason, that Akin may have flubbed it.)   It is worth noting, however, that House Republicans recently pushed a bill (co-sponsored by Paul Ryan) that would require a proof of  “forcible rape”  (rather than just plain old regular rape) in order to qualify for the rape exception from the ban on using federal Medicaid funds to pay for abortion.

I am posting this also for dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night.   Check out dVerse for wonderful poetry.  

Also, for a complete change of pace, 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.

Categories: poetry, Uncategorized
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Comments: 59 Comments

“Holding On To Your Hat”

August 19, 2012
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“Under Windsor Bridge,” 1912, by Adolphe Valette

Re-covery (Holding On To Your Hat)

And then there are those times
when all that feels
real
in this wide blurred world
is the darkness cupped
by your black felt hat.

Something should be different.
You do not know what that something
should be, only
that it should take hold of you
wholly.

And yet–and this you are suddenly
sure of – it should also leave you
with the hat.

You run your fingers over the rough curve
of its brim, the
dark abiding wool
that even now resists crushing,
resists stain, blocks
wind and rain, allows
itself to be held by you,
wholly.
************************************

I’m posting the above sort-of draft poem for Tess Kincaid’s Magpie Tales, a writing blog in which Tess puts up a pictorial prompt each week. 

Check it out!  And also if you have a chance, 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.

Categories: poetry, Uncategorized
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Comments: 29 Comments

“End of Summer Night”

August 18, 2012

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End of Summer Night

You wept last night as you slept.
Your body did not heave, rather
reverberated, like a stream, whose
flow, in summer, channels beneath its
dust-greyed rockface, or that low
thunder that can sometimes be heard distantly
all hot day long, though
it was a cold night, a night
when summer suddenly
ended, and as I lay my arm over the warm
tremor of your ribs, a part of me, a very small selfish
part, wanted to reach down to the greater
heat of your loins (the alertness of
your cock, dreaming, still such a
phenomenon to
me) but you wept as
you slept, you who weep
so rarely, and in my alarm
and basic humanity, and sudden
worry too at the part
any loin-touching might play
in that mime of loss that ran through you as
hard as anything waking–what end, whose
end–I held you, my
hand not moving from your dream-sorrowed
heart, the cold from the North window
streaming over my face now
clear of the blanket, until,
still seemingly asleep, you clasped
that hand on your chest, held it
for a long long time, and I was
glad it was there,
so glad.

********************************************

The above is my offering for dVerse Poets Pub Poetics prompt which I am hosting today. The prompt is basically the dog days of summer. Do check it out – there’s a great picture of Pearl with a Zucchini, and check out all the wonderful poems at dVerse.

I am also linking up to the Open Link Night of Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads. 

Also, if you haven’t yet, do 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.

Categories: poetry, Uncategorized
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Comments: 64 Comments

Prettyscape

August 17, 2012

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Categories: New York City, Uncategorized
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Comments: 10 Comments

“Record-Keeping” (Huitain, Aging Brain) (Also Flash 55)

August 16, 2012

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Record-Keeping

Aging brain blanks–record skipping a beat.
Do you, reading this, have any notion
what a record is?  (Was?) These super-neat
spun disks.  Blank aging brain jumps to ‘ocean,’
‘Bonnie,’ ‘sea’–the mysterious motion
of bringing back; and what does re-cord mean
but rebraiding the unmoored? Devotion
spinning us back from wayward to midstream.

*****************************************************

The above rather odd poem is a huitain, an eight-line poem from the French (or Spanish) that follows a certain rhyme scheme.   I’m not quite sure where my aging brain has taken it, but I am posting it for a dVerse Poets Pub “Form For All” challenge hosted by Gemma Wiseman and Gay Reiser Cannon.  For more on huitains, check out Gemma’s article at dVerse.   (The picture was amazingly done on my iPhone, with wonderful Brushes App plus Hudson River.) 

Also, please, tell it to the G-Man, because the poem is, amazingly, 55 words!!!!!

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.

P.S. Not sure about that re-braiding – maybe plain old re-tying –

Categories: iPhone art, poetry, Uncategorized
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Comments: 19 Comments

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