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Book Spine Poetry
(upside down) Therapy
April Morning
Rainbow’s End
Killing Time
A Poetry Handbook
90 Minutes in Heaven
Where Good Ideas Come From
revolving (a book spine poem)
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Category Archives: poetry
Delight
Even over the sounds
of thunder, masquerading
as distant drums
across the plain, the flute-sounds
remain longer, as her melody
and timbre
curl with the landscape
that returns
upon awakening
with the downbeat
of each new day.
Epic grounds
The wind and the lion roared
as the blades cut a swath
in diagonal, then glory
reigned over the edging, with
pauses to reload
and storm the foundation.
Finally, after putting away
the implements of destruction,
a moment to sip iced tea
and ponder
the creation and beauty
of living things,
as the breeze perturbated
through the snowmound.
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a brief poem inspired by my random playlist while doing yardwork over the weekend.
The Wind and the Lion, composed by Jerry Goldsmith
Glory, composed by James Horner
Forrest Gump Suite, composed by Alan Silvestri
Potential well
when your thoughts get rounded off,
gathering down the slope to the open plateau,
sketches get
relegated to a collection.
Each one appears then fades
-as sounds of thunder dwindles to nothing-
leaving barely enough to fill a bowl.
Maybe the scratched
glass bowl the color of cinnamon,
that you use to mix tuna and mayonnaise
-but without sweet pickles
it is not a salad-
or the majestic porcelain one –
the best bowl to mix flour, water, and yeast.
Cover with a cloth
and let the dough rise -twice its size –
on the stove counter,
or the one
fashioned
from wires
– it holds the apples and oranges,
and keeps from bruising them, but doesn’t work
for tangerines – so you store them
in the original packaging.
Then the bowls you don’t use –
you flip them over in the cabinet-
that way they don’t get dusty inside,
and you can put the spare words
away in a basket
for the day
or in a drawer
with recipe cards,
paper clips, spare buttons
and old keys.
Phosphorescent
to those that fly by,
-the dragonflies and cranes-
it is a habitat just like another,
albeit enclosed,
lying just beyond
the cattail marsh
and beneath the mimosa branches,
shallow pond water
collects the run-off
from the adjacent country.
and with no means to drain
the scum,
-covers in-
while the incandescent sun
glows green,
and phosphorescent
blooms interwreathed,
hide the carrion
and bottom dwellers.
Acappella Friday: The Jabberwocky
A cappella music (without instrumental accompaniment) is particularly enjoyable for me to listen to. As a poet (and an avocational musician), I am drawn to the similarities that poems and a cappella music have. Lyrical phrasing, meter, rhyming, and onomatopoeia mean so much to a cappella music, because it relies so heavily on the human vocal element.
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OK, so first of all…this setting of Lewis Carroll’s Jabberwocky is not done acappella. The composer is Sam Pottle (1934-1978). Interestingly, he also wrote many songs used on Sesame Street and cowrote The Muppet Show theme (with Jim Henson).
This song one of the most enjoyable songs I’ve ever performed in a choir…I *chortle* as I think about it. This poem has always held a special place in my brain. The nonsense vocabulary, the heroic details, the wry grin of people who recite it…Lewis Carroll had a tremendous ability to draw pictures with words, some that didn’t even exist prior to him using them. This poem is largely responsible for my foray into poetry. It has inspired some of recent poetry, The chnott and the sarborant and pub song.
So it is not acappella, but it is done with piano accompaniment and toy percussion accent instruments (I think I played the tamborine/rattle when we performed this in 1985-86), and much fun to listen to. The music fits the poem. An interesting point about performance is interpretation. This is true for poetry read as well as sung.
I present two versions from cyberspace. First, a very proper choral performance by the University of Utah Singers – well done (performed with great sarcasm) and a great recording to hear the different lines and harmonies and pay attention to the toy instruments.
And a second performance by the University of Maine Singers (a larger choral group), done with choreography, and some jocularity at the end. The performance revels in silliness….plus the video has the bonus of the Maine Stein Song (don’t know it, never been to Maine). Callooh!! Callay!!
I hope you enjoy it.
Absence
Opening a box to reveal the space inside,
just beneath the fitted lid, above the folded tissue paper
and before
it is unwrapped.
A moonless night, devoid of shadows,
where no projections cast on walls. Walls
that surround gardens of dioecious plants.
If one ceases, the other languishes.
The heart and soul of it knows.
Tree limbs clatter after the leaves disappear,
until the wind stops.
A paddling of ducks moved downwind
where the sound of me
vanished in the rippling.
It is the sound music makes
five seconds after it ends.
Timing
Several days ago, I discovered a fly in the bottom freezer drawer,
-dead from cold- beneath the packaged, leftover gumbo made with a roux, the kind that must be stirred slowly – simmering on low heat- so that it does not burn.
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Claudia crossed her hands as she spoke of her upcoming schedule, the dangers of narcissism,
and the joy of creative moments -her blue eyes betrayed an infatuation with cleverness- and later she cast her burdens on a subscription magazine and a glass of pinot grigio.
***
Further on that day at the convenience store, after receiving change -76 cents- for the purchase of his lemon-flavored tea and Marlboros, an un-named driver whistled a Meredith Willson tune -to mark his time in the parade of customers- turned and walked out
clearing before the door shut.
light segue (tanka)
reflects in glass doors-
the new light of morning slips
out of dark cover;
reveals a kiss, first embrace
of day interlaced with me.
pub song
is it already time in sparity
for tomorrow’s song, conspiring
just past a moment’s caesura beshinding
and a quaver in triplets sequiling?
staccato, legato, and elluish garnishes,
reveling beats and cantabile varnishes,
capriccio encores, as slathibirs and borespors,
such singing will leave you reciting
the extrons and motile warblings
of pub-songs, warm and inviting.
and when you are done with the chorusing
of colly-woos and the hollo-joy-cholla,
drink a toast to the wencesial spirit, of course,
and say a prayer from the wells of your golla.
Taps and Ratamacues 