Poem of the moment

[Saffron]

DWill,
I knew you would like the James Wright poem. He is still alive and I assume he must still be writing - if the poets at the Festival are any indication, a poet never stops writing; maybe stop publishing but not writing. James Arlington Wright was born in Martins Ferry, Ohio, on December 13, 1927.

The festival was wonderful. The rain did not come until about 10PM on Thursday night, just as I was crawling into the tent. By Friday morning the rain had let up some and by mid morning it was on and off again misty rain.

I am back.

Saffron

James Wright

[DWill]

Saffron,
Great. You're a trouper.
DWill

[Saffron]

The Niagara River
by Kay Ryan

As though
the river were
a floor, we position
our table and chairs
upon it, eat, and
have conversation.
As it moves along,
we notice

[Saffron]

The times are nightfall, look, their light grows less
by Gerard Manley Hopkins

The times are nightfall, look, their light grows less;
The times are winter, watch, a world undone:
They waste, they wither worse; they as they run
Or bring more or more blazon man's distress.
And I not help. Nor word now of success:
All is from wreck, here, there, to rescue one

[Saffron]

Hide And Seek
by Kay Ryan

It's hard not
to jump out
instead of
waiting to be
found. it's
hard to be
alone so long
and then hear
someone come
around. It's
like some form
of skin's developed
in the air
that, rather
than have torn,
you tear.

[DWill]

That seems so true to how it felt to be playing hide and seek and knowing that the seeker is nearby. You do want to jump out (at least I did) instead of being found. I wonder why. Ryan is good at what she does.
DWill

[Saffron]

The piece of the poem that hit today --

it's
hard to be
alone so long
and then hear
someone come
around.

I agree with you DW, I had the same sensation of wanting to jump out rather than be found. Curious! I guess it is all the pent up excitement wanting to burst out. This poem came from Ryan's collection called The Niagara River. I am enjoying reading her work.

[Saffron]

A friend has promised to bring me some bittersweet vine to decorate for the Thanksgiving holiday. It put me in mind of Sappho.


With his venom
irresistible
and bittersweet

that loosener
of limbs, Love

reptile-like
strikes me down


Here is another translation of the same piece --

Once again limb-loosening Love makes me tremble,
the bitter-sweet, irresistible creature.


Here is a bit of information on Sappho copied from Poets.org

Sappho is not only one of the few women poets we know of from antiquity, but also is one of the greatest lyric poets from any age. Most of her poems were meant to be sung by one person to the accompaniment of the lyre (hence the name, "lyric" poetry). Rather than addressing the gods or recounting epic narratives such as those of Homer, Sappho's verses speak from one individual to another. They speak simply and directly to the "bittersweet" difficulties of love. Many critics and readers alike have responded to the personal tone and urgency of her verses, and an abundance of translations of her fragments are available today.

[Rose Kolarich]

An old friend of mine recently gave birth to a daughter so I was reminded of this poem by Australian poet Judith Wright:

Woman to Child

You who were darkness warmed my flesh
where out of darkness rose the seed.
Then all a world I made in me;
all the world you hear and see
hung upon my dreaming blood.

There moved the multitudinous stars,
and coloured birds and fishes moved.
There swam the sliding continents.
All time lay rolled in me, and sense,
and love that knew not its beloved.

O node and focus of the world;
I hold you deep within that well
you shall escape and not escape-
that mirrors still your sleeping shape;
that nurtures still your crescent cell.

I wither and you break from me;
yet though you dance in living light
I am the earth, I am the root,
I am the stem that fed the fruit,
the link that joins you to the night.

[DWill]

Rosie, that poem illustrates how different the experiences of the genders are. I generalize, but a father's feelings can't be anything like that. I know mine weren't. Well, women are lucky in that regard. But still men wouldn't be offering to change places!
DWill