Posted tagged ‘Karin Gustafson’

1 Mississippi (See the movie, at least trailer!)

December 17, 2010

I am a truly terrible self-promoter.

Every once in a while, I feel I should try.

A while ago, I published a (I think) very cute little children’s book called 1 Mississippi. It is a counting book–its most notable feature are watercolor illustrations, mainly of elephants, that tend to be, well, more watery than the illustrations in many children’s books–more variegated, less blocky.  I think this is because I paint in a somewhat brushy way, with of different tints.  (Sort of like this blog.)

It is a sweet book for a young child, new parent, or, perhaps, a pet pachyderm.

The book is on sale on Amazon (with my other books Going on Somewhere, and Nose Dive),  and there is related gear on the publishing site BackStroke Books.   (if you want to buy or receive a book at a discount, contact me and I’ll see what I can do.)

Thanks much!

 

PS – I am linking this post to the wonderful Jingle and gooseberry garden.

(PS  – yes, the above video is not good!  Alas, my favorite movie actor, Pearl, is away this morning.  I will try to re-do later with her assistance.)

Rain, Melting Snow, Draft Villanelle

December 12, 2010

Rain Today, Melting Snow

A rainy day.  I thought I’d try a villanelle; the draft is below.  In this one, I’ve played with internal rhyme and word repetition; also used slant rhyme to avoid the flippancy of straight rhyme.  I am linking this also to Bluebell Books short story slam–their picture was a girl outside in the rain–this is a woman inside (in bed with iPhone) in the rain! 

Any suggestions, re-writes, corrections–feel free to let me know!

 

Rain today, melting snow

 

 

It rains today.  What was a scrim of white
frays to a stark and intermittent thread,
as browning fields bring softness to the eye,

 

and rumpled folds of brush and weed deny
the brambles that will later stalk my tread.
It rains today.  What is a scrim of white–

the screen that fixates, though two inches wide–
and, like a stalker, ties me to my bed–
(’till browning fields bring softness to the eye)

as intermittent glances, window-wise,
prise digital fingers from my real-world head.
It rains today; what was a scrim of white,

 

as bright outside as in, in puddles lies–
as clear as any water (over mud).
The browning fields bring softness to the eye,

 

reminding one that even autumns die,
snow too, its shine reduced to what was then
by rains today, a threadbare scrim of white.
The browning fields bring softness to the eye.

I appreciate that the poem has a certain similarity to other efforts of mine.  (But there it is–you write what you write.)

For other villanelles, or posts about the mechanics of villanelle writing, check out the category “villanelle” here.

 

Dog/Elephant Christmas Activity! On Ice!

December 25, 2009

Skating At Sunset!

Thanks so much for all your support (and views)!

All rights reserved.  Karin Gustafson.

Getting Ready….

December 24, 2009

Sshhh!

Have a lovely Christmas Eve!

(All rights reserved.  Karin Gustafson)

Friday! Canine Christmas Tree

December 11, 2009

This one looks good!

Enjoy the weekend.

PS – If you like elephants as well as dogs, check out 1 Missississippi by Karin Gustafson on Amazon.

All rights reserved.

Friday Night in Winter Poem

December 4, 2009

Here is a poem written in Jaipur, India  (the “Pink City” in Rajasthan).

Jaipur

Cold inside, I foolishly drink
Two cups of strong hot tea.
Now I will sit awake all night
Thinking of you.

All rights reserved.  Karin Gustafson.

(PS- shameless plug:  Jaipur is a place of elephants.  If you like elephants, check out  1 Mississippi by Karin Gustafson, at Amazon, or link from home page.)

Elephant-Dog Thanksgiving

November 26, 2009

You can't please everyone.

Or maybe you can.

Happy Thanksgiving!

For more on Thanksgiving (and pleasing), check out “Is That Gravy Hot Enough?”  at https://manicddaily.wordpress.com/2009/11/25/is-that-gravy-hot-enough/and “Ten Reasons to Be Thankful in 2009” at https://manicddaily.wordpress.com/2009/11/25/ten-reasons-to…ankful-in-2009/.

All rights reserved, Karin Gustafson.

Breast Exam Sonnet

November 24, 2009

American women of all ages are likely aware of a recent controversy concerning recommendations for mammograms and breast self-examination.  The new guidelines issued by the United States Preventive Services Task Force suggest that screening techniques are overused, and that testing, even self-examination, should be limited, particularly in women under 50.  The concern is that premature testing causes not only increased anxiety, but also unnecessary, and possibly deleterious, procedures and treatment.

This position runs squarely in the face of the popular view that early detection saves lives.  (It has been especially suspect in the age of health care reform.)

Although many health professionals and cancer organizations have rallied around the old pro-testing guidelines, I, for one, favor the new, since, as a general rule, I tend to avoid all contact with doctors until gangrene is setting in.  (Note to any of my children who may read this blog:  I do not advocate this course of conduct for friends and family.)

The sonnet below effectively undercuts both positions, as its subject character undertakes a cursory breast exam at a hurried moment, thus managing to maintain anxiety while also avoiding effective screening.  (I think it may be something many women manage.)

In the Stairwell

Descending the building’s stairs, she feels her breast,
fumbling beneath her bra to get to skin,
palpating (as they say) but in a mess
of here and there and not all within
the confines of an organized exam.
Silly to do it here, not time or place,
someone else might come, have to move her hand,
and yet fear seems to justify the race,
as if by checking each time it crosses mind,
especially checking fast, she can avoid
ever finding anything of the kind
that should not be found.  And so, devoid
of caution, but full of care nonetheless,
she steps slowly down the stairs, feeling her breast.

All rights reserved.  Karin Gustafson

(My apologies if I’ve posted this poem before; sometimes they get a bit lost in the mix.)

Thankful for No Snakes

November 24, 2009

Doesn't Mind Snakes (From 1 Mississippi, BackStroke Books, Karin Gustafson)

You  know those moments in which your life has exceeded all maximum legal occupancy rates and weights and is crashing straight down some shaft?

Or maybe it’s a question of balance.  In your case, it’s so off, that you’ve long passed the tipping point and are now crashing at the perfect tilt to cause maximum cranial damage.

Or perhaps there’s no direct crash.  Perhaps your life is overflowing to the point that the only way to save the levees is to swallow as much sea water as possible.

As if there weren’t already enough pressure, you suddenly remember an important appointment.  Because it had so completely slipped your mind, this moment of recollection  is fraught with anxiety.  You are certain, at first, that you have already missed the appointment.  In the next moment, you realize, with bare relief, that the important appointment is tomorrow.  But this hardly makes you feel better, because there’s no way that you’ll be ready even by the next day.  The anxiety that had gripped your heart shifts to your stomach.

What is worse is that you are going through this whole litany in the middle of a subway car rather than in one of those classic late-to-school, naked-in-class, day-of-the-test dreams (from which you could conceivably awake.)  

What do you do?    What are your options?

1.  Call in sick and stay home in bed obsessively reading Twilight.

2.  There are many much better books in the world;  call in sick and obsessively read one of those.

3.  Don’t just call in sick, actually get sick.  (This may even get you two or three days off the hook.)

4.  Consider computer games.

5.  Or baking.  If you do bake, make sure to save some treats for your boss.

6.  Stop waiting till 8 or 9 pm for your one glass of wine per day.

7.  Who said you had to stop at one?

8.  Finally, remember the wisdom of Nanny Ogg,  a Discworld persona  created by the incomparable Terry Pratchett.  In Carpe Jugulum, Nanny, a witch, and her colleague, Magrat Garlick, with newborn baby in tow, engage in a hazardous escape from (you guessed it) a vampire takeover which has defeated Granny Weatherwax.  As their rickety coach gets stuck in a flooding rainstorm, the baby’s diaper begins to smell, and Magrat complains of their plight, Nanny offers the comforting thought that their situation could be worse.

“How could it be worse?” Magrat asks incredulously.

“Well,”  Nanny says, “there could be snakes in here with us.”

Be thankful that New York City subway cars, by and large, do not house snakes.

(Sorry, by the way, for paraphrasing Pratchett from memory.   If you don’t know his many many wonderful books, check them out!)

And if you are stressed, long for the soothing of watercolors, don’t mind snakes, and would really really like to learn to count (with elephants), check out 1 Mississippi by Karin Gustafson on Amazon, or at the ManicDDaily homepage.

 

 

Another Villanelle – “The Nap”

November 22, 2009

Believe it or not, I have found, on this blog’s “stats,” that there are almost as many people interested in villanelles as in Robert Pattinson.  (Well, maybe not almost as many.)  Still, there is an interest.

This is fortunate for me as the villanelle form is one that I really like.  (Check out my other posts on this subject, if you would like to read explanations of the villanelle form and suggestions about how to write them.  Check these out especially if you also like Magnolia Bakery’s Banana Pudding.)

Today, I’m posting the villanelle, “The Nap,” because it it feels to me to have an autumnal aspect–after the fall, as it were.  (I was in upstate in New York when I wrote it, when the leaves were fallen, brown, and slowly drying out.)

To all those who are afraid to try writing a villanelle–you’ll see that  I cheated!  I modified the repeating lines;  in other words, I gave priority to meaning over manneristic form.   (Ha ha!)

Reading suggestion:  line breaks, in my poems at least, are not intended to denote pauses, unless there is also a specific punctuation break, such as comma or period.

Thanks as always for reading this blog.  I very much appreciate your sympathetic interest and time.  Comments are also always welcome.  Thanks again.

The Nap

Side by side, we slid to a dry, still, place.
It was not a woeful drought of age or dust,
the softer dryness of a tear-trailed face.

We never used to find this quiet space.
Any closeness quickly clambered into lust.
But side by side, we slid to a dry, still, place

where hands touched in a sweat-free interlace,
fatigue overwhelming pheromone fuss
with the softer dryness of a tear-trailed face.

Some other time we’d find that moist embrace
where pleasure mounts to such synaptic bust
I find myself side-sliding to a place

as blank as emptied well, as capsized chase.
(My brain reacts so badly to heart’s trust,
the softer dryness of a tear-trailed face.)

But today, we two, exhausted by the pace
of time and life and words like ‘should’ and ‘must’,
side by side, slid to a dry, still, place,
the softer dryness of a tear-trailed face.

 

I am submitting this post into the Gooseberry Garden’s Poetry Picnic, with the theme of love and lost love.

All rights reserved, Karin Gustafson.

Also check out 1 Mississippi by Karin Gustafson on Amazon.