Posts Tagged ‘Poems’
Due to the untimely passing of RYDER founder and director Peter LoPilato, the time for a planned April Poetry Issue had come and gone, though there still is some hope for a near-future revival. But poetry is an impatient mistress, and so the May Bloomington Writers Guild “Second Thursday Spoken Word” (cf. April 11, et al.), dedicated to Peter LoPilato’s memory, was set to be a festival of the poems that were to have appeared in that issue.
Thus deviating from the usual pattern, after opening music by neighboring Brown County singer/guitarist Chris Barth, MC Tony Brewer read an introducing piece about Peter LoPilato, then, explaining that perhaps a better event description would be “a sampling of pieces that were to be in THE RYDER,” several poets being from out of town or otherwise unavailable to read that night, we heard the first of two groupings of poets. Then came another musical interlude/intermission, after which those of the second group read for a total of about twenty presentations in all, to an audience of around the same number, followed by a final musical selection.
For myself, I was in the second grouping, third poet from the end, with a single poem (as was the case for a majority of the other poets as well). Starting with a brief explanation of the nature of what I’d be reading, a poem informed by an at the time popular group of early twentieth century poems called “Little Willies” (see also February 20), I concluded with an 18-line entry about the Christmas gift of a chemistry set, “Scientific Method,” “hopefully informed by the spirit” of the example I’d just read.
And so, NaPoWriMo time again (cf. April 15, just below), or today’s poetry challenge had to do with contrasts. In short: Write a poem in which you closely describe an object or place, and then end with a much more abstract line that doesn’t seemingly have anything to do with that object or place, but which, of course, really does. That is, concrete vs. abstract, the example they gave concentrating on sharp, sensual images seen relaxing on a summer day, with an ending line on wasting one’s life.
Having relaxed too much, then, one supposes? The ideas are connected — if unexpected.
And so it came to me, having already used three or so prompts to write poems about my cat, why not (sigh) again. But this time a great ending line came to me too! Even if, perhaps, mildly repulsive, but that’s pets too, isn’t it — anyway, sometimes?
Thus, tipping one’s hat to the Goth Cat Triana (“black-cloud-over-snow cat” being, I understand, a Chinese term for this particular kind of cat):
TRIANA
The “Goth” cat, but graceful, too,
slinking, stalking,
brave and skilled huntress,
silent feet, tiptoes,
“black-cloud-over-snow” cat,
darker than coal, but
white chest, tummy, feet too,
dark and light face and chin.
Comical sometimes
but beautiful as she purrs,
yawns, gets up, saunters.
I wonder how mice taste.
Let us go back in the Wayback Machine, for exactly one week:
So, somewhat against my best judgement (that is, things can pall if they become too routine — but then one can always quit early and who else will know?) I accepted a dare to myself and “joined” NaPoWriMo, the write-a-poem-from-a-daily-prompt challenge for National Poetry Month, a.k.a. April. But the NaPo guys had to know better for April 8, at least for a broad swath of states from Texas to Maine, where there was to be a total solar eclipse.
Thus, for April 8, a prompting for poems of doomed love, of the breakup of couples, on a day when the sun and moon . . . well, of a union that did not last long. Did one sense a subject?
And so for today, as said a week later, the subject matter is stamp collecting or, rather, unusual stamps. Or, well let’s let the NaPo guys say it themselves: Take a look at @StampsBot, and become inspired by the wide, wonderful, and sometimes wacky world of postage stamps. For example, while it certainly makes sense that China would issue a stamp featuring a panda, it’s less clear to us why the Isle of Man should feel the need to honor 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY in stamp form. From Romanian mushrooms to Sudanese weavers to the Marshall Islands getting far too excited over personal computing, stamps are a quasi-lyrical, quasi-bizarre look into what different cultures (or at least their postal authorities) hold dear.
The Isle of Man? The Manx? Does one once more sense something obvious (hint: it’s not cats with no tails, though they can be included)? So:
THE ISLE OF MAN
(” it’s less clear to us why the Isle of Man should feel the need to honor 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY in stamp form” — NaPoWriMo prompt. 4-15-24)
The Isle of Man honors
2001, the Space Odyssey film,
but is that, then, so odd?
Is not the home of us all, the Earth,
an island of man;
and is not our collective journey
around the sun,
and with that star to who knows where,
an odyssey that would top any other
our minds can conceive?
So, somewhat against my best judgement (that is, things can pall if they become too routine — but then one can always quit early and who else will know?) I accepted a dare to myself and “joined” NaPoWriMo, the write-a-poem-from-a-daily-prompt challenge for National Poetry Month, a.k.a. April. But the NaPo guys had to know better for April 8, at least for a broad swath of states from Texas to Maine, where there was to be a total solar eclipse.
Didn’t they?
You see, Indianapolis — and fifty or so miles south, right here in Bloomington — was smack in the center of the eclipse path. For my own case, I watched it in Dunn Meadow, an Indiana University gathering place, absorbing the wonder of the crowd — here largely composed of cheering students as total darkness approached, then (with a “diamond ring” flash with the first light’s reappearance between two lunar mountains) was re-dispelled, though I must confess with a certain jadedness myself, having observed a similar total solar eclipse in Hopkinsville, KY in 2017 (cf. August 22 2017). But even for me still a thrill, and one well worth enjoying again.
Whereas, for mere poem-writing . . . well, I’ll confess too that I first-drafted this beforehand, this morning, but as I say they still should have known better. You see, this was today’s prompt, for April 8: “a poem that centers around an encounter or relationship between two people (or things) that shouldn’t really have ever met – whether due to time, space, age, the differences in their nature, or for any other reason.”
Thus:
ECLIPSE
It was fated to fail,
this joining of sun and moon:
he was hot, she colder —
icy, in fact, when
their relationship started,
his glory hidden
while she had her way —
but only for minutes.
He came to his senses,
his brilliance intact
at their ultimate breakup,
complete,
or at least for the next few
years.
I thought the two shadormas were fun, though perhaps in context a little didactic. Eg., “What’s a Shadorma?” And “Pas De Dead” was a nice little poem, but zombies are so passé in these modern days.
The one that shone, though, was a lengthened variation on a “Little Willie,” poems introduced in the early 1900s about a naughty Victorian boy and how he comes to grief — a moral message thus delivered but nobody else in the poem much cares (at least about such things as death or maimings). Example:
Willie on the railroad track
didn’t hear the whistle’s squeal,
now the engine’s coming back,
they’re scraping Willie off the wheel.
And so this, a Christmas poem actually and at a whopping 18 lines, “Scientific Method,” about Willie’s adventures with a just received chemistry set. And today the reply from the Writers Guild’s Tony Brewer wearing his RYDER guest-editor’s hat: Hi, James, thanks so much once again for submitting. I would like to include “Scientific Method” in the issue. Could you send me a bio when you have a minute?
The street date for the issue will be around April 19 and it will be available online shortly after that. There will be a showcase reading of poets published in the issue on Thur May 9 here in Bloomington. Let me know if you think you can make it. Thanks again.
The magazine in question, THE BLOOMINGTON RYDER and its annual Poetry Issue, in which I had some poems last year as well (cf. May 3 2023, et al. — although more recently in the news here too with their fiction edition in December). And so once again, while with only one poem, but one I think people may especially enjoy.
The prompts actually came Sunday, July 16 — about as early in a month that a third Sunday can be — but also not that far from mid-way from a lateish May (see June 3, et al.) and an August that, on time, still wouldn’t come till the 20th. But then add to that I’m five days late too.
So — on to the chase — herewith my take on the Bloomington Writers Guild’s Facebook page Summer Sunday Write challenge (allinonebreath now):
“Summer” prompt #4 (plus a trace of #2)
BIRDBATH
“A crow flaps by the window, and there is a whiff of of tulips and narcissus in the air.” The last line of Amy Lowell’s “Bath,” but not one she took herself. After all she survived to write the poem.
A crow.
A bath.
A hot summer’s day.
A scent of flowers, peaceful and pleasant, but. . .
A crow!
And hot, sweltering sun permeates the air. Crows don’t sweat like we humans, thus feeling heat much more. And baths contain water.
Cool, soothing water.
A crow. . .
A flap of wings, frenzied — the window is open. A pound and a half of feathers and muscle. This is a large crow! Of beak and claws, sharp — talons we might call them. Piercing through narcissus, tulip scents, suddenly a smell of blood! Screams echoed off tile walls!
Crows, too, are meat-eaters — this one is anyway.
And the bath, cooling. . . .
Until, finally, cawing, a “caw” sounding like a burp, our crow friend — heavily — takes again to the air.
The bath, excepting a few bubbles, now still; the water a flowery pink. The sky still blue and white, save for one black speck.
A crow freshly-washed, and full.
My return, that is, having had a scheduling conflict last month and missing the June Bloomington Writers Guild’s First Wednesday Spoken Word (cf. May 3, et al.). But this month I was back! And I shared in an especially enjoyable July 5 session at Backspace Gallery downtown.
And that’s even including the sudden rainstorm that trapped us inside for an extra fifteen or so minutes after.
But back to the event, the musical interludes featured guitarist Jason Fickel who introduced us to several distinct styles — e.g. slide guitar, steel guitar, blues. . . — bracketing poet Terry Sloan with sometimes science-based, philosophical, witty, often satirical pieces (as an example, one crowd-favorite titled “On the Failed Attempt of Evil Knieval to Leap the Yawning Chasm of Non-Existence”), accompanied by projected collage/illustrations by Jon Vickers (perhaps best known locally as founding director of the IU Cinema), and followed by writer, director, and audio producer Brian Price with excerpts from two recent books (“of short fiction, monologues, and poetry,” to quote the blurb), THE WRONG SIDE OF THE RIVER AND OTHER POINTS OF INTEREST (2022) and THE OLD CART WRANGLER, THE NEW SILENCE, AND OTHER NOTIONS (2020).
Then, after a break, came the “Open Mic” section with four walk-on readers of which I was second, continuing my five-part “Casket Suite” tale sequence on the New Orleanian filles à les caissettes who brought vampirism to the New World. Tonight’s was part three, “Reflections,” in which the glamor girl of the group, Lo, explains why the superstition that vampires can’t see themselves in mirrors is, of necessity, false.
The Bloomington Writers Guild’s First Wednesday Spoken Word usurped for a “RYDER MAGAZINE Poetry Issue Showcase” (cf. April 18, February 28)? Well, not really insofar as reading poetry comes legitimately under the “spoken word.” And it could be all poetry for other reasons too, e.g. that on a particular Wednesday poetry was all they got.
But this is special. And if celebrations end up translating to more readers for the magazine (hint: To see an electronic edition press here, but paper copies are free as well at various kiosks locally), why not? The more the better. And for the poets, also, it’s one more opportunity to introduce one’s work to the public.
And so, okay, I’ve got work in THE RYDER too — three poems in total: “Existential Vamp” (the philosophic), “Let’s All Go to the Movies” (nostalgic), and “Last, Shoemaker Stick To” (surreal). So I, too, was in line in what functionally was a giant-size “open mic,” only lacking a formal, invited readers session first. Or maybe, rather, the “price” being no more than having poems there, we were all invited.
Or maybe who cares? A lot of us read to, at a tad over thirty attendees at peak, a reasonably hefty crowd at downtown Bloomington’s Backspace Gallery and that may be celebration enough!
I don’t write very much poetry these days, concentrating the time I have on prose. I don’t get to too many Writers Guild just-poetry programs. But I do get to some.
I don’t publish too much poetry either these days, as would follow. But, again, there’s some. A case in point, Sunday I heard via Facebook that the new April-May THE RYDER — a local arts and commentary magazine — was out. And with it, presumably, some poems by me (cf. February 28, below).
Some may remember: The last time I announced new poetry here was in summer last year, also in THE RYDER (see July 12, June 13 2022). As is my wont, these were on horror/dark fantasy subjects, one concerning zombies, “Don’t Always Believe Everything You Hear,” and a second, “The Vampiress’ Soliloquy,” on — guess what — a vampire. While this year the word was I might have three, albeit with all three a little bit shorter, though (with lots of local poets being showcased, but in limited space) perhaps only two. Though I gave some broad hints, with my acceptance of the acceptance, that I would much prefer it be all three.
So, good news!, it is three, though each standing alone, separated from its mates by two or three pages, but that’s okay with me. I’ve not gotten a print copy of it yet either, but I have seen the electronic edition which you may, too, by pressing here. (Go ahead, give it a try. You may like it.) But be prepared to do LOTS of scrolling; as with last year’s appearance, the poetry feature is way at the back.
So a quick guide here: three poems on three pages. Starting on page 53 with a nostalgic 13-liner, perhaps the weakest but also the most “mainstream” of the entries, “Let’s All Go to The Movies.” This is followed by maybe my personal favorite, the most intellectual — or was that “absurd”? — of the three, “Last, Shoemaker Stick To,” on page 56. Then the most philosophic to bring up the rear on page 59, the last page in the section, “Existential Vamp.”
And one more note. Plans are afoot from editor/contact Tony Brewer to have a mass reading on Wednesday, May 3, at the Bloomington Writers Guild’s First Wednesday Spoken Word, 6 p.m. at the Backspace Gallery downtown.
See you all there?
Lots of numbers, 4 and 3 Monday, now 2 and another 3. But if course different contexts. So for today’s, let us take the wayback machine to summer last year, with the publishing of two poems by me — “Don’t Always Believe Everything You Read” and “The Vampiress’ Soliloquy” — in local Bloomington magazine THE RYDER (see July 12, June 13 2022, et al.).
It seems that THE RYDER is at it again.
It actually started in late December when, answering an e-call by the Bloomington Writers Guild’s Tony Brewer, I sent three poems for a planned 2023 THE RYDER Poetry issue for the coming spring, “Existential Vamp,” “Let’s All Go to the Movies,” and “Last, Shoemaker Stick To.” That is to say, to cover philosophy, nostalgia, and Olde Maxims (or, maybe, logic-based mayhem), respectively. Until finally, today, the decision arrived: Hi, James, thanks again for submitting. I would like to include all three poems in the issue — they are short enough together I think we can make it work, although I may need to drop one for space. So. . . three poems or two?
Well a sale’s a sale (although this one is for glory, not money, but it is a local publication), but I do greatly hope all three get printed. Unlike last year’s two poems on “familiar” monsters (a zombie for the first, a vampire for second), these three poems are purposely widely divergent — which in itself defines a pattern — whereas with two the selection, whichever chosen, would seem (and in this case in fact would be) just random. That is, if asked myself, I would have no means to make a choice — but as Tony notes they are purposely on the short side too. So hopefully there won’t be any problem.
In any event we should find out together, at least those of us local, in just a few months. As the email concludes, [t]he issue should be on the street by the end of April. There will be a showcase reading of poets in the Ryder poetry issue on Wed May 3 at 6 pm at Backspace Gallery on the square. Let me know if you can make that. Thanks again.
jamesdorrwriter 