It’s been awhile since I’ve posted some flash poetry (So the challenge is, to set a timer and write a poem in 5 minutes). 🙂

The irony: when I was an undergrad, I wore black leggings, too,
when I was dating Greg and dreaming of John (who was in Japan).

And when I see them on my students, I am that girl in the leggings and the bright-colored XL Gap tee (that I later wore during my maternity years).

These students of mine, they don’t know that I once wore black leggings.
As I stand in front of the class, teaching them. About history.

Ah, this one so adroitly expresses that blanket of guilt that descends on days when everything is so good and I know that there are others who suffer…So, my apologies…

Under One Small Star

My apologies to chance for calling it necessity.
My apologies to necessity if I’m mistaken, after all.
Please, don’t be angry, happiness, that I take you as my due.
May my dead be patient with the way my memories fade.
My apologies to time for all the world I overlook each second.
My apologies to past loves for thinking that the latest is the first.
Forgive me, open wounds, for pricking my finger.
I apologize for my record of minutes to those who cry from
the depths.
I apologize to those who wait in railway stations for being asleep
today at five a.m.
Pardon me, hounded hope, for laughing from time to time.
Pardon me, deserts, that I don’t rush to you bearing a spoonful
of water.
And you, falcon, unchanging year after year, always in the
same cage,
your gaze always fixed on the same point in space,
forgive me, even if it turns out you were stuffed.
My apologies to the felled tree for the table’s four legs.
My apologies to great questions for small answers.
Truth, please don’t pay me much attention.
Dignity, please be magnanimous.
Bear with me, O mystery of existence, as I pluck the occasional
thread from your train.
Soul, don’t take offense that I’ve only got you now and then.
My apologies to everything that I can’t be everywhere at once.
My apologies to everyone that I can’t be each woman and
each man.
I know I won’t be justfied as long as I live,
since I myself stand in my own way.
Don’t bear me ill will, speech, that I borrow weighty words,
then labor heavily so that they may seem light.
~Wislawa Symborska

If you find yourself sitting at your laptop watcing a movie that netflicks accidentally sent to you and you are shaking your head at the interminable squeak coming from GameBoy’s new rock polisher oh, only 20 days of polishing until the stones are ready, you say?, and John has just baked sugar cookies chock-full of hydrogenated oils with shards of sugar glistening glistening on their white tops, and tobycat just let you kiss her head three times before she closed her eyes and fell back asleep. If you happened to have had nearly everything go right today at your prosthetist’s appointment, and you came home walking on your own two feet again never mind that your knee still isn’t fixed yet, and the rain fell and the wind blew and today is your last day of catsitting the wobbly-footed swirly mancat who lives next door. If this is you, then you will be delighted to come across this poem:

Life, you’re beautiful (I say)
you just couldn’t get more fecund,
more befrogged or nighingaily,
more anthillful or sproutspouting.
I’m trying to court life’s favor,
to get into its good graces,
to anticipate its whims.
I’m always the first to bow,
always there where it can see me…
~from “Allegro Ma Non Troppo” by Wislawa Szymborska

John‘s been trying to convince me that we should start celebrating solstice rather than Christmas–it’s his attempt to get us to open the gifts just a few days earlier. While I admire the sentiment, especially because I’m just as eager as he is to begin unwrapping, we’ll be waiting until the 25th. 🙂

So here’s a lovely poem from Deborah for the shortest day of the year. May it be a good one for each of you!

The Shortest Day
By Susan Cooper

And so the Shortest Day came and the year died
And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world
Came people singing, dancing,
To drive the dark away.
They lighted candles in the winter trees;
They hung their homes with evergreen;
They burned beseeching fires all night long
To keep the year alive.
And when the new year’s sunshine blazed awake
They shouted, reveling.
Through all the frosty ages you can hear them
Echoing behind us – listen!
All the long echoes, sing the same delight,
This Shortest Day,
As promise wakens in the sleeping land:
They carol, feast, give thanks,
And dearly love their friends,
And hope for peace.
And now so do we, here, now,
This year and every year.
Welcome Yule!

It seems that no one reads poetry much anymore. Poetry books don’t sell well, most contemporary poems seem trite or obtuse. But I often feel an overwhelming urge to write poems anyways–images just tumbling out of me and onto the page. I am rarely satisfied with my efforts, as these poems rarely say what I intend them to say. But I am determined to persist with poetry despite my challenges with it. So today I am posting a recent poem in celebration of Muriel Rukeyser’s birthday (ok, it was actually on Friday, but I think it still counts). As Muriel wrote in her book The Life of Poetry, “I wish to say that we will not be saved by poetry. But poetry is the type of the creation in which we may live and which will save us,” or to borrow an aphorism from Oprah, one thing I know for sure: poetry matters.

So below is a poem that I recently wrote for my monthly reading/writing group. It’s not necessarily profound, but I enjoyed writing it and I would like to share it with you. I would most like to know what your favorite lines/images/stanzas are. Thanks. 🙂

For two of me

I gave her my cold shoulder
which she took in her teeth
biting here and there, around the
tiny stitches of scar

we were on a knee
in adoration of a
rough patch, the burn
that never washed away

then the rounded weal,
with furrowed marks
of fruitful years
and a worthy song

a thin star there on
her bone-still spine,
lying down to sleep,
holy oil still damp there
deep in my hair

and her stepping strongly
along my way,
with mercy because
she will dream now.
~December 2006

Ok, file this one away for future reference:
-If you find these two containers of leftovers in the fridge:
1) about half a serving of veggie chili leftoever from the huge pot your brought to Karen’s party yesterday
2) misc calzone ingredients–black olives, garlicky mushrooms, and tomatoes
You will really like this mixed together into one dish and heated up in the microwave. Yeah.

And cheers to a nearly-perfect day yesterday:
1) An extra hour of sleep (woohoo!)
2) Family Meeting to discuss the ways different cultures commemorate death, learning about The Day of the Dead celebration coming up on Nov 2, then a super-tasty veggie lunch at the Gypsy Den w/the youngish Friends group
3) A friend’s call to say she couldn’t use her tickets to the afternoon’s symphony performance and would we want them? A feverish dash by me and CatGirl to make it to the concert. And o-mi-gosh. The new Segerstrom Concert Hall. It is breathtaking. We were just two stories above Carl St Clair’s wild gesticulations, his leaping and stomping on the podium. When it was over, CG couldn’t believe that the time had passed so quickly!
4) Karen’s annual Pumpkin Slaughter Party (pictures to follow soon). A divine tomato salad by Karen and a gingery fruit salad by Ned. Lots of pumpkin guts. Then an end-of-the-evening display complete with scary music. Best of all, Karen’s health problems which had us so concerned at last year’s party, are now almost completely alleviated. Joy!

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
~Max Ehrmann,Copyright 1952.