Becoming Something

What I think makes good poetry and "Poem About Morning" by William Meredith

(Am I allowed to reprint a poem on my blog? Anyone know?)

The following poem is taken from Garrison Keillor's Good Poems, my favourite collection of poems I've found yet.

First, let me tell you why I think too many people misjudge and dislike poetry and what I think poetry should be. Then I'll tell you what kind of poetry I like. Then I'll tell you what I like about the poem I'm about to share. 

People think poetry, the kind that is lauded, is all old-fashioned language, or full of obscure references, or is esoteric, and therefore hard or impossible or at least tedious to understand. Yes, Shakespeare used words that even people then didn't understand; he made up words! Yes, at a certain point in time it's like having to learn another language. But it's learn-able and if you do, you can enjoy yourself. But you don't have to in order to enjoy poetry. There are all kinds of poetry to be enjoyed.

Also, good poetry does not have to be self-indulgent crap that only the poet understands, with seemingly random line breaks with special offsetting, and bizarre punctuation, and fancy words that don't seem to have a relationship to all the other fancy words used.

My philosophy:  If poetry is not written to be understood by most thoughtful people, then it is nothing more than mental masturbation: a one-person sport. "Look at how deep I am. You cannot understand. You are not profound and brilliant like me. I am special."

Good writing lets the reader in. It's a relationship between the writer and the reader. It should be relateable (this is not a word, apparently, but I use it all the time— look at me be all Shakespeare-like) in some way or be so good, so illuminating, that the reader believes she does relate, even if she's reading about something she's never thought of before much less experienced. 

Good poetry might not be perfectly understandable at first read-through but you should be able to get the gist. There should be symbolism or hidden meanings, tie-ins between lines and imagery, that's not too obvious. It should be melodic or emotional. I like contemporary poetry because it's less modest, more raw. (I like some Shakespeare sonnets and other such "older" poetry, too. I just prefer contemporary.) I tend to not like rhyming poetry because it's usually going to be at least a little bit forced. Then I feel like the subject was tailored to the form rather than being what drives the poem in the first place.

Garrison Keillor is a warm and talented American story teller. The host of my favourite radio show, Prairie Home Companion, he is also the host of The Writer's Almanac, a wonderful radio segment that he's been doing every weekday for at least since I was in high school. Garrison has read a lot of poetry. So, I was anxious to see what poems he would select for a compilation of "good" poems.

These poems are approachable. Some are so straightforward that Jude asked, "That's a poem?" They are organised by topics: Scenes, Lovers, Death, Language, etc.

Good Poems. It's my new favourite book. It catches my breath, arouses longings for scenes about which I can write, inspires my own hand. It's like soul candy. 

The following poem is a tiny bit difficult to understand. It's not complicated but it's not plain. I like trying to figure out why "Late" is on a new line (I think I know) and why he italicised some text. I love the line "with your head dark and wishing" because I feel like know exactly what he meant by that. I am not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination. I like to wake up gradually. I don't want to talk to anyone. I immediately turn on my iPhone or laptop and wake up my mind and mood by checking my email, checking Twitter, checking Facebook. My head feels dark and heavy. It is wishing for sleep, wishing for the dreams I was enjoying, wishing for ease and fantasy.

Then the poet says, "Weren't you duped yesterday?" and I smiled. Yes! Yes, I've felt this. I let myself hope that a day holds promise and when it falls apart or tastes bland, I feel duped.

"Life is some kind of loathsome hag
Who is forever threatening to turn beautiful.
Now she gives you a quick toothpaste kiss
And puts a glass of cold cranberry juice,
Like a big fake garnet, in your hand."

I love this metaphor. I loved the comparison of the cranberry juice and a garnet.

Poem About Morning

William Meredith

Whether it's sunny or not, it's sure
To be enormously complex—
Trees or streets outdoors, indoors whoever you share,
And yourself, thirsty, hungry, washing,
An attitude towards sex.
No wonder half of you wants to stay
With your head dark and wishing
Rather than take it all on again:
Weren't you duped yesterday?
Things are not orderly here, no matter what they say.

But the clock goes off, if you have a dog
It wags, if you get up now you'll be less
Late. Life is some kind of loathsome hag
Who is forever threatening to turn beautiful.
Now she gives you a quick toothpaste kiss
And puts a glass of cold cranberry juice,
Like a big fake garnet, in your hand.
Cranberry juice! You're lucky, on the whole,
But there is a great deal about it you don't understand.

A poem: Two Distances

There's a whole world in your head, I know.
You lay on your side, your head propped
in your cradled hand, silent
but I hear the traffic
and mingled languages.

I see you from two distances--
one we can touch and climb over and
one we'll always fail to identify
that flits away when we examine it,
as double-vision.

I can spot a world traveler
because I am one.

"In the dark hours when others were asleep..."

Really must update my Fave Quotes page, above, and add this to it.  In the meantime, I draw attention to it with its own full post:

“In the winter, in the dark hours when others were asleep, I found these words and put them together by their appetites and respect for each other. In stillness they jostled, they traded meanings while pretending to have only one.”

-poet William Stafford, punctuation mine, emphasis mine.

Those 50 words, arranged as they are, do something to me.  They well me up with emotion in my chest and in my eyes. 

Had to share.

Who Knew? by Cy Densham

Shattered panes of understanding
This is not how things should be!
Self comprehension denied at once
Why try my hand at this?

For days and days I've been so sure,
Chemistry a simple slave,
Yet intellect provides no cure
When impulse be my bride.

Come seven hours or twenty minutes
(Confused minds know half as much)
My tongue shall speak a different name
And pray not know the change.

Resist the Pretzels: A Poem

Eating pretzels
is not conducive to
writing poetry.

"Knife-edge of snow..."
*crunch*
...what was I saying?

This is a sport
best left to
peppermint tea
and creme brulé.
Maybe ripe fruit, juicy soft.

When writing poetry
everything becomes
a part of the poem.
The firm or gentle hand
of a rogue breeze
can change the ending of
a love story.

Unless you're writing poetry
about anarchy,
about bus accidents,
or maybe about
Avril Lavigne,

Resist the Pretzels.

Metamorphosis, 29 years

My keeper
frail strength
lasts in a cell memory--
all the inner sanctum promises
her hand clenched on my spine
yanking me up-- violently--
to purpose.

That girl,
my sustenance.

Flaws apparent but
no punishments will be hers.
Lasted her time
then fell away,
then one more radiant
by tiny degrees
pitter-pattered in
as if to say I won't be jarred.

I did not notice, it's true
until she left me.

A life worth living,
they whisper to my weathered skin--
let the blood course, blue royalty
and the breath rise, divine scripture
hair falls roughly tousled 
nails dug in
climbing a ladder to Him
and if I fall
they will catch me,

"Don't make it for nothing,
not when we bled for you
and spilled your tears from our eyes
and fell upon your face with love."

I will grip harder
I've no choice
for they kept my secrets and I swore
to them
brilliance and infinity.

My girls and women who kept me,
who washed my hair clean of pollution--

I am you no more.
Thank you
for my evolution.

Jude: An impromptu poem

The rough landscape

of his body

knows no limit of tenderness.

Do they make his sort anymore;

is he a sign of the Second Coming?

Who would I be had I known a man

like him a little earlier from the cradle?

I would take away all his burdens

so he could be free

to love the world as he loves

these four and me

and men would be men

and families would stay

and women would be cradled

in the palm of worship

and the work would go forth

and cats would sleep, purring

and dogs would not shed

and the sun would sigh to sleep each night.

But I cannot.

So he labours to serve, to preside, to protect

to walk the dog in the rain at 6 am

and bring me breakfast in bed

as an exclamation mark upon this day that's his

he sings his instructions to the little folk

in operatic climes

he cares for the babies, desecrated and left for dead

and his name stands for them

and for all the souls who knew not

a man like him as men should be.

Then comes home

he makes me dinner

he brings me to dance in the kitchen

and I know the bounds of compassion

are too far off

for me to ever fall off

before his strong arm peels me back

and it's not even 8 pm

and he tucks the babies into sleep

and walks the dog

and does the dishes

and gives me space

and bids us pray

and bids me come

to all that's sweet

before becoming my night time sentinel

the caretaker of my life

the angel who measures my breath

as I live off of his

and shares the covers and sacrifices pillows

and hours

only to rinse, lather, repeat.

You might enjoy this video. It's awfully inspiring and beautiful and simply told. My Jude is every bit as wonderful and committed and strong as this man. My Jude is the kind of man who cleans up another kid's poop that's been smeared about in the men's bathroom at the church, not once, but TWICE. (Yes, friends, it happened again.) He is the kind of man who makes me believe in God because oh, Lord, I know he was sent to protect and to love me and my babies. He is the kind of man who turns around and drives the other way so that Lulu can see the little weiner dogs on the sidewalk because she was the only one who couldn't see them out the window as we drove home. And he's the kind of man who says that, Yes, we can adopt Mariah should something ever happen to her parents because, oh my, he knows I love that little girl so much, and then says that we can adopt any child we know who needs it.

And I share this not to brag but because some people have the ability to inspire us all to betterness, to becoming something, and they don't need recognition for themselves but for us.

Daily Gratitudes

1. My skirt fit better today than before.
2. I love my local church peeps soooo much.
3. I have a pretty easy church calling.
4. When I'm feeling down about how incredibly ugly our backyard looks, Jude says that our yard, unlike our neighbors', is a work of art, of the utmost creativity. The brown pee spots tell a story, where their yards are a blank canvas of cold inhumanity. Or something like that.
5. Jude is patiently, patiently waiting for me to make him a nice supper, after he patiently let me have a long nap. I love that I know he won't get mad at me or grumble about how slow-going I am. Phewf.

Amish Love Poem and Mormon Love Song [Poem]

Jude doesn't write me enough poetry because he thinks he's not good at it which is completely untrue. Some of my favourite penned lines ever are from his sweet heart.

I've shared this Amish Love Poem that Jude wrote me with many people but not here and I share it here, in part, because John asked me to. I told him the poem in a Facebook chat window and he loved it but couldn't remember it and asked to hear it again. So, here it is now forever logged in the Poetry category.

Also, John said it inspired him to write a Mormon Love Song for his wife and I enjoyed that poem very much and want to share it with you.  John is writing his thesis right now for his PhD in Early Modern Romantic Poetry (I believe). He must have poetry on the brain many days.

Amish Love Poem

You churn my butter
You make me want to plow
You are Spring's soft caress
in your ankle-length greyish dress
and when I think of Love
I can only think of thou.

Short, sweet, adorable. I love the line about the ankle-length greyish dress. ISH. GreyISH. It's perfect.

Mormon Love Song

Sit with me, sister
You give me relief
From society.

I’ll hold myself back
From my righteous desire,
The smell of your dress,
Blonde liquid fire
I’ll sit two rows back,
Kick off my church shoes
And sing wild tenor
To your sweet alto

Bake with me angel
Text me at midnight
I’d pass to you first
If he wasn’t in eyesight
I’ll tear down the barricades
And mess up your hair
You are my doctrine
This is my prayer

We’ll run in the moonlight
Cross that cool field
And sleep by the lights
Of the twinkling fair.

I’ll forgo my sins
Withhold all my pride
I’ll read sacred scripture
In your chaptered eyes
I’ll plunder the food store,
Praise with my mouth,
Drink from your voice,
And live in your house.

But there’s a certain sacred
Beauty in restraint, they say,
I think it was some G.A.
I have your note,
Your sustaining vote,
Oh I’ll flirt in my shirt
With you.

I love the first stanza because it plays on the Relief Society, the women's organisation of our church. Also, G.A. stands for General Authority, which refers to the 12 apostles, and the prophet and his two counselors.

Daily Gratitude

1. Certitude and conviction about things that matter most.
2. Language that tickles my brain and tempts my palette.
3. Grapes. What a handy breakfast while online.
4. Getting my Relief Society visiting teaching done for the month and enjoying the sisters very much.
5. Le weekend.

Great song lyrics-- what are your faves?

I had written a post about Izzy that was light-hearted and a bit funny and my stupid laptop got all overheated and it shut down. And I lost half of the post because TYPEPAD DID NOT AUTOSAVE LIKE IT WAS SUPPOSED TO.

It's remarkable that I even have it in me to write anything after that because the only appropriate response after such an assault is unabashed, grumbling bitterness.

But then Cat Stevens came on my playlist from the Music I ♥ page (see above? green buttons?). And how can you be anything less than heart-soar-y after hearing these lyrics:

"Oh, I can't keep it in. Can't keep it in, I've gotta let it out. I've gotta show the world, world's gotta see, see all the love, love that's in me. I said, why walk alone? Why worry when it's warm over here? You've got so much to say. Say what you mean. Mean what you think and think anything....Light has to shine, so shine light, shine light."

The whole song is great except for the part about living just for today and then letting it go. I can't approve of that message. I have a Mormon example to set, you know. ;-p

What are some other great lyrics? Hmmm. Well, you know how I feel about Foy Vance.

Who doesn't love Shower the People by James Taylor?

"Father and mother, sister and brother-- if it feels nice, don't think twice. Shower the people you love with love; show them the way that you feel. Things are going to work out fine if you only will."

Or Great Big Sea's Something Beautiful:

"Hey, you. You lost your only friend. You can't believe your broken heart will ever mend. But every mountain has its faces that would make you want to stop, from this so unwelcome journey from the bottom to the top. You've got to move along, I believe there's something beautiful to see... just waiting for you and me. I know you'll never count the tears you've cried. Though you've asked a million questions, no one can tell you why. A single soul is chosen to be the one put to the test and there will be no consolation for the heart that never rests. You've got to move along...."

I wrote about another uplifting song in the early days of this blog: Animal Liberation Orchestra's Barbeque.

And what about Natalie Merchant's Life is Sweet:

"They told you life is hard-- misery from the start. It's long. It's long and painful. But I tell you life is sweet, in spite of the misery there's so much more to be grateful for. So, who will you believe?"

All these songs make me happy, make my spirit soar. Most are on the aforementioned playlist. They are the kind of songs that make you sigh happily and think, Everything is as it should be. Life is good. People are good. I can do this thing.

What about sexy tunes? Are there sultry songs that make you want to pull your loved one close and kiss him or her deeply?

It's hard to find any music sexier than Van Morrison.  I challenge you. Tupelo Honey? Someone Like You? Crazy Love?

"She’s got a fine sense of humor when I’m feeling low down. And when I come to her when the sun goes down. Take away my trouble, take away my grief... And when I’m returning from so far away, she gives me some sweet lovin’, brighten up my day. Yes, it makes me righteous, yes it makes me whole. Yes, it makes me mellow down in to my soul."

I like how he says her love makes him righteous and mellow down in to his soul. She makes him want to be a better man. THAT is love.

But, wait. I think I found something to top Van Morrison. Just come to mind: Cannonball. Damien Rice. Right? One of the sexiest combos of music and lyrics ever.

"Still a little bit of your taste in my mouth. Still a little bit of you laced with my doubt. Still a little hard to see what's going on. Still a little bit of your ghost, your witness. Still a little bit of your face I haven't kissed. You step a little closer to me, so close that I can't see what's going on.... Stones taught me to fly. Love taught me to cry. Some come on courage! Teach me to be shy. 'Cause it's not hard to fall and I don't want to scare her. It's not hard to fall and I don't want to lose. It's not hard to grow when you know that you just don't know."

I listen to this one on repeat at night when I can't sleep and it puts me right out. The music is very relaxing. I like the lyric "and I don't want to scare her". Gotta love a gentle, sensitive man like that.

What are some of your favourite lyrics/songs? Songs for coping, songs for love, songs for mourning, songs for celebration....? What songs got you through a tough time?

Daily Gratitudes

1. Cloudless days.
2. Izzy biting at the water coming from the sprinkler and getting sopping wet. I love the look and smell of a wet dog.
3. Josie gets to go to a birthday party. Making it more quiet around here. Ahhhh.
4. The Fantastic Four: "Flame on!" We love that line. Makes me giggle. It's Daisy's favourite show. She's too cool.
5. Lulu walking around in her Old Navy strawberry bathing suit, crazy curly blond hair, and chocolate ice cream all over her face.