Toiling in Obscurity

Standard

Margo Roby’s Tuesday prompt was deceptively simple. Write a poem inspired by the word “obscure.” As one of my work colleagues used to say, “Nothing is foolproof to a sufficiently talented fool.” Once again, I wandered into the weeds contemplating the number of verb synonyms for “obscure” that are also nouns: veil, curtain, cover, shroud, mask, cloak, shadow, eclipse, blanket, disguise, screen. And because I like to complicate things, I went looking for obscure (to me, at least) forms I hadn’t used before. I wrote a tetractys last week: basically a 1/2/3/4/10.

Veiled
Eclipsed
Uncertain
Undiscovered.
Hidden lives obscured from our very selves.

I also played, less successfully, with a triolet

By veil of night, she sped unseen
to the masquerade in her disguise.
To meet her love, her hope was keen.
By veil of night, she sped unseen.
She found another was his queen,
and knew at once his trail of lies.
By veil of night, she sped unseen
to the masquerade in her disguise.

If anyone wants to suggest a replacement for line five, in the comments section here, have at it! I tried “She saw him slip behind a screen,” but that didn’t work for me. There are fewer rhymes for -een than you might imagine.

Aspen Grove

Standard

It’s Monday and I have now spent a week contemplating a Tuesday challenge from Margo Roby, “Today we have our monthly image prompt — I hear the cheers. I know you love the images. An image can be freeing or constraining, depending on how you approach it.

Now, I had promised a pot luck day, today, so you may happily browse the Net for a painting, or a photograph that yells ‘Helloooo!” as you go by. Or, you can look at the photograph I will post for those with no Net time this week and see what it sparks.

Things to remember when using an image as inspiration: The poem does not have to bear any apparent relationship whatsoever to the image that inspires it.

My image is this one: http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/snow-aspens-new-mexico/
To say that I got lost in this image is an understatement. I am trying my hand at haibun.

Aspen Grove

The straight stillness of the trees captured my attention first. Sense memories of Taos came later: the bright blue sky, the smell of frybread wafting through the Pueblo, the Andean flutes in the warmth of the late of afternoon sun, the lingering heat of chiles on my tongue. Yet in the forest, the trees are still and pale in the cold winter light.

black-scarred aspen trunks
memories frozen in time
les ojos de Dios

Aspen forests often grow from a single root. The largest known single organism on earth is an aspen grove of over 100 acres. Each tree is a clone of the one next to it.

rime-encrusted twigs
mirror the mother root below
speaking without sound

Examining Italian

Standard

 

This poem is written Oulipo-style based on a challenge posted on the ModPo Facebook page by Massimo Soranzio, a fellow Oulipostian. Originally, Massimo shared an essay question from the Italian State Exam, in which students who chose the poetry option were to explain the first line of a poem by Salvatore Quasimodo. Within the comments section, several commenters suggested that the FB group write their own responses to the exam question. Massimo chose to frame his as an Oulipo response, which led me to think that I could write a cento based on selected quotes from Massimo’s original post and the FB comments section. The first line of my poem is alsothe first line of the Quasimodo poem assigned to the students.

Examining Italian

“It may be a true sign of life:”
Conjuring up absurd questions –
Could it be more subjective?
Any answer would require more experience.
We are beginning to get hints of that,
not meant to be provocative, just seeking context,
without knowing anything else.
Petty minds thinking great thoughts.

What is meaningful in our lives?
That’s only question 1; there’s much more.
To face the challenge of this question,
focus on the contrast between doubt…and certainty.
I have craved some silence.
– the first glimmer of an idea –

Polishing Polish

Standard

It’s Tuesday, which means another challenge from Margo Roby: “this is a simple prompt: find a poem in a language other than English and translate it into English. [I didn’t say the exercise is simple, just the prompt.]”

After a few fits, starts and blind alleys, I decided to look for the work of a female Polish poet. I am half Polish, but only speak about six words of the language, mostly food-related. I chose the following poem by Mila Kus:

SWIETO

Znuzyly mnie juz rozwazania
nad istota Czasu
nad sensem cierpienia
i nieuchronnoscia przemijania

Oto
rumiana stokrotka
na wilgotnej lace
przebija sie do slonca
I pianie koguta
w krystalicznym powietrzu
wznosi sie
obwieszczajac wiosne

uroda natury
argument “za” nie do odparcia

Here is my attempt to translate this poem into English. This was tricky because Kus interposed some English words (lace, argument) as well as some spellings that are not traditionally Polish. I felt the need to add a few words to flesh out my idea of what she may be trying to say. Here goes:

HOLIDAY

Already so tired of considering
the essence of Time,
the meaning of suffering,
the inevitability of passing on

Here
the blood-red daisy
on damp lace
punctured by sunlight,
And the crow of the rooster
in the crystalline air
rising up to announce
the arrival of spring

nature’s beauty
an argument too compelling

Unfinished Business

Standard

Margo Robey’s Tuesday poetry prompt on June 2 was basically to take care of unfinished business, i. e. to find a poem that you might have abandoned or left in need of revision and complete it. Since I have so few poems in reserve, I decided to go back to an Oulipost challenge that I wanted to retry, although I think I may have been crazy to do so, given that it involves 36 lines of poetry and plenty of constraint.

Here is the challenge from April 19: “This will be one of your most challenging Oulipost prompts! A sestina is a poetic form of six six-line stanzas. The end-words of the lines of each stanza repeat those of the first, but in a differing order that in each successive stanza follows the permutation: 615243. The entire sequence of end words is thus: 123456; 615243; 364125; 532614; 451362; 246531. All words and phrases must be sourced from your newspaper text.” (To be completely honest, I changed verb tenses on occasion and, once in a while, made plurals of singular nouns and vice versa.)

This poem was completed using words from the following two articles in the 06/03/14 edition of The New York Times: Dana Jennings, “The Forests of the Ocean,” p. D2, and Sindya N. Bhanoo, “When Coral Reefs Thrive, So Does Variety in Fish,” p. D4.

A Secret Garden

She fell in love with the neglected garden,
lavender that beckoned in the rain.
Astonishing events were in store,
unsuspected mermaids in the sand
knowing the surprising secret,
the unsung convergence of delights.

Reminders of the beauty that delights
in feathery greens of the moss garden,
critical, but overlooked, secret
shocking color spawned in pools of rain,
radiant crystals in the sugar sand,
samples that throb with life in store.

Fragmented phenomena that store
pieces of astonishing delights,
images preserved in the brown sand.
Tidal forms create a wave-tossed garden.
Leathery pods preserved in sea and rain,
a past that holds the present’s secret.

It vexes her when others share her secret,
what she created and has held in store
underwater and against the rain –
the seaweed, the yellow fish, the delights.
The love of her beguiling garden,
the current and the surface and the sand.

Like an obsessed beachcomber on the sand,
finding unseen labyrinths in secret
vine-like flora, where the ancient garden
in isolation maintains a jealous store
of diverse and alien delights,
she studies the beach in the heart of the rain.

Colors and shapes preserved in the rain,
a habitat evolving in the sand,
its pinks and reds providing her delights.
To thrive, diversity is the secret.
Past, present, future all in store,
love revealed, whole and new, in the garden.

This was a satisfying exercise. Thanks to Margo for the prompt that encouraged it!

Found Haiku – Hey, when the prompt is “found”…

Standard

barbcrary's avatarThe Daily News

So, I was moved by the prompt today on the NaHaiWriMo site to try some more found haiku. The prompt was, of course “found.”

So, from today’s New York Times:

smiling through the rest
this prim, prudish part of me
a blade at the heart

(The New York Times Magazine, 06/01/14, pp. 34-39. Jesse Lichtenstein, “The Smutty Metaphor Queen of Lawrence, Kansas.”)

Two haiku on marriage:

at difficult times
the life cycle of being
she sings her way through

nothing prepares you
unexpectedly thrilling
(he dreams of leaving)

(The New York Times, 06/01/14, p. ST13. Linda Marx, “After the Guests Have Left.)

a bittersweet mood
at the sudden reunion
the years slipped away

(The New York Times, 06/01/14, p. TR10. Liesl Schillinger, “A Return to Nievre and to Childhood Memories.)

View original post

Back to work 05/15/14

Standard

After a brief hiatus, I plan to be writing poetry, and perhaps other musings here on a regular, if not daily basis.  You can see three months’ worth of daily haiku here: http://smallstart2014.wordpress.com/   and my month of April with the Oulipost challenge here: http://journaloulipo2014.wordpress.com/

I wanted to start with a new blog site to mark what I hope will be a broader approach to poetry, moving beyond (although still with) haiku to other forms.  My experience with found poetry in the Oulipost challenge gave me the confidence to move forward and, by saying so publicly here, I’m taking my first small steps.

The return to haiku on 5/15:

laughter in the grass
sweet echo of summers past
granddaughters at play