Stephen Dunn (and the Similarity Between Poetry and Basketball)

http://nwpr.org/post/lifes-minutiae-gain-new-magnitude-dunns-lines-poetry

"One of the points that I make in the essay is the similarity between poetry and basketball is a chance to be better than yourself. To transcend yourself, if you're hot that day. And that happens in writing in our best moments. Where we find ourselves saying what we didn't know we knew, or couldn't have said in any other circumstance.
So those are the moments in poetry I live for now. I can't play basketball anymore."

To being better than ourselves, in whichever ways we can.

Shange, On Poetry

For the full article (on the poet Shange), please visit: http://www.nytimes.com/2013/10/27/nyregion/a-poet-with-words-trapped-inside.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1&nl=nyregion&emc=edit_ur_20131027&

 “Her art has always told the story of people who are suffering, and given meaning to their struggle. Now she’s looking back and asking, ‘What is art going to be for me in the body that I have now?’ ”
 Ms. Shange sat with a few friends and considered the question: What if poetry isn’t enough?

“You have to keep acting like it is enough,” she said. “You have to keep affirming it, and bringing yourself to it. You have to keep hoping that it will move the mountain.” 

To art that gives meaning to struggle. To faith.

Desiderata - Max Ehrmann

Desiderata

Max Ehrmann

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 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 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 critical 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 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 careful. Strive to be happy. 



Wise words. What strikes me most is the emphasis on finding peace - in silence, with God, your soul. Your self. Maybe sometimes all you can ask is to be at peace with yourself. Change starts from within, right?

Such a beautiful poem, and so practical, too. 

To finding peace, speaking your truth, and remembering that "You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here...With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world."

Some Days

"Some Days"
James Baldwin
(sung by Audra McDonald)

Some days worry
some days glad
some days
more than make you
mad
Some days,
Some days, more than
shine:
when you see what's coming
on down the line!

Some days you say,
oh, not me never!
Some days you say
bless God forever.
Some days, you say,
curse God, and die
and the day comes when you wrestle
with that lie
Some days tussle
then some days groan

and some days
don't even leave a bone.
Some days you hassle
all alone.

I don't know, sister,
what I'm saying,
nor do no man,
if he don't be praying
I know that love is the only answer
and the tight-rope lover
the only dancer.
When the lover comes off the rope
today,
the net which holds him
is how we pray
and not to God's unknown,
but to each other:
the falling mortal is our brother!

Some days leave
some days grieve
some days you almost don't believe.
Some days believe you
and you don't
Some days worry
some days mad
some days more than make you glad.
Some days, some days,
more than shine,
witnesses,
coming down the line!


I heard this as a song before reading the poem. It's beautiful both ways, don't you think?

Some days, I need to listen to this song on repeat.

To some days that "more than shine."

Monday Mainstay: Shel Silverstein

 I have always loved this Shel Silverstein poem. Here you go:

Listen to the Mustn'ts

Shel Silverstein

Listen to the MUSTN'TS, child,
      Listen to the DON'TS
      Listen to the SHOULDN'TS
The IMPOSSIBLES, the WONT'S
      Listen to the NEVER HAVES
Then listen close to me-
      Anything can happen, child,
ANYTHING can be.

 

 

To believing that anything can be.

 

 

 

Poems in Prison

http://www.npr.org/2013/02/12/170657765/in-a-north-vietnamese-prison-sharing-poems-with-taps-on-the-walls

I haven't read this book, but the title of the article intrigued me. John Borling, this Air Force fighter pilot, while imprisoned for six years and eight months in Vietnam, "composed poetry -  in his head, without benefit of pencil or paper." He had a tap code to communicate with other prisoners, and said, " a fragment of poetry — some remembered lines, however abbreviated — would be useful."

See, poetry can save lives! Okay, okay, maybe that's a little extreme. But hey, it helped make life more bearable in such a trying time. There's always beauty somewhere, right? We just have to find it, or create it.

To poetry.

So Much Happiness by Naomi Shihab Nye

 http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/so-much-happiness/

So Much Happiness

Naomi Shihab Nye

It is difficult to know what to do with so much happiness.
With sadness there is something to rub against,
a wound to tend with lotion and cloth.
When the world falls in around you, you have pieces to pick up,
something to hold in your hands, like ticket stubs or change.
But happiness floats.
It doesn't need you to hold it down.
It doesn't need anything.
Happiness lands on the roof of the next house, singing,
and disappears when it wants to.
You are happy either way.
Even the fact that you once lived in a peaceful tree house
and now live over a quarry of noise and dust
cannot make you unhappy.
Everything has a life of its own,
it too could wake up filled with possibilities
of coffee cake and ripe peaches,
and love even the floor which needs to be swept,
the soiled linens and scratched records…..
Since there is no place large enough
to contain so much happiness,
you shrug, you raise your hands, and it flows out of you
into everything you touch. You are not responsible.
You take no credit, as the night sky takes no credit
for the moon, but continues to hold it, and share it,
and in that way, be known.


I haven't posted a poem in a while, so here's one I read a while ago. I think Nye does a wonderful job of writing about how happiness feels, as much as you can explain it, anyway: how it "floats," then "lands on the roof of the next house," and "flows out of you into everything you touch." Isn't that so absolutely true?

Because it's an extra-special day (why not?), here's another quote:
"Poetry calls us to pause. There is so much we overlook, while the abundance around us continues to shimmer, on its own.”
-Naomi Shihab Nye
(found here: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/naomi-shihab-nye)

To happiness flowing out of us into the world around us, and seeing the shimmering.

Natasha Trethewey on Poetry

http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/style/natasha-trethewey-poetry-showed-me-that-i-wasnt-alone/2013/01/01/cc1a96da-5384-11e2-a613-ec8d394535c6_story.html?wpisrc=nl_headlines

I found myself turning to poetry in the way so many people do — to make sense of losses...it did feel that the poem was the only place that could hold this grief...That poem showed me that I wasn’t alone in feeling that way. That’s what poetry can do for us — to remind us when we feel most alone, we are not at all.
-Natasha Trethewey

I don't know if poetry can ever completely "make sense of losses..." I don't know if anything, really, can do that - not religion nor music nor other people nor love. But I think poetry can be a refuge. And in a shining moment, it can remind us, beautifully, that we aren't alone.

To poetry. To the knowledge that "when we feel most alone, we are not at all."

Ogden Nash - Introspective Reflection

So I thought this little two-line poem seemed particularly apt today. Enjoy.

Introspective Reflection
Ogden Nash

I would live all my life in nonchalance and insouciance
Were it not for making a living, which is rather a nouciance.


To insouciance!

Dancing and Shadows

http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/style/a-dancer-who-made-lifes-transcience-lasting/2012/10/14/b797929e-1626-11e2-9855-71f2b202721b_story.html?wpisrc=nl_headlines

First of all, sorry it's been such a long time. I was consistent for a while...and then inconsistent for a while (maybe a cycle of its own?). I'll try to update a couple times a week again (to the possible one person out there who's reading this).

I haven't actually seen Eric Hampton's work at all, but a few sentences caught my attention in the article:

"The dances he created...had everything you need in dark times, or in life in general: humor, poetry, human warmth. Moments that trapped a fleeting sensation and kept it aglow in your mind like a candle flame."

Don't you just love that? There is so much truth in those sentences, especially the part about how humor, poetry, and human warmth are so essential.

"It was always Hampton’s strength to find gold in the shadows."

I would like to be able to do that. We don't control so much of what happens in the world, but we can always control how we react...yes, maybe it does feel like the sky is falling. But isn't it the loveliest shade of blue? (Okay, maybe that just sounds completely absurd...but you know what? Maybe life is absurd. Things don't always make sense.)

"Yet Hampton’s courage (or was it unquenchable artistic fire?) still astounds those of us who witnessed it, and borders on the superhuman. As amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (the dread Lou Gehrig’s disease) gradually shut down his outer functioning, he still managed to bring forth a creative, nurturing inner life. "

That's just beyond words, isn't it? Impressive doesn't even come close.

To "humor, poetry and human warmth" - wherever you may find them: dance, art, sports, anything. Everything.

Monday Mainstay: Come, Let Us Find (William Henry Davies)

Come, Let Us Find

William Henry Davies

Come, let us find a cottage, love,
That's green for half a mile around;
To laugh at every grumbling bee,
Whose sweetest blossom's not yet found.
Where many a bird shall sing for you,
And in your garden build its nest:
They'll sing for you as though their eggs
Were lying in your breast,
My love--
Were lying warm in your soft breast.

'Tis strange how men find time to hate,
When life is all too short for love;
But we, away from our own kind,
A different life can live and prove.
And early on a summer's morn,
As I go walking out with you,
We'll help the sun with our warm breath
To clear away the dew,
My love,
To clear away the morning dew.

Doesn't that sound like a perfect dream, to find this romantic cottage where we "A different life can live and prove"? 

To walking and loving and living and proving a different life. And finding a cottage, both literally and metaphorically.

Monday Mainstay: If I Were In Charge of the World (Judith Viorst)

If I Were In Charge of the World

Judith Viorst

If I were in charge of the world
I'd cancel oatmeal,
Monday mornings,
Allergy shots, and also Sara Steinberg.

If I were in charge of the world
There'd be brighter nights lights,
Healthier hamsters, and
Basketball baskets forty eight inches lower.

If I were in charge of the world
You wouldn't have lonely.
You wouldn't have clean.
You wouldn't have bedtimes.
Or "Don't punch your sister."
You wouldn't even have sisters.

If I were in charge of the world
A chocolate sundae with whipped cream and nuts would be a vegetable
All 007 movies would be G,
And a person who sometimes forgot to brush,
And sometimes forgot to flush,
Would still be allowed to be
In charge of the world.




The world sounds like it'd be more fun if Judith Viorst were in charge of the world, doesn't it? Maybe my favorite bit is how she would cancel Monday mornings (or bedtimes or lonely). If I were in charge, I'd outlaw cubicles for sure and give everyone ice cream on Wednesdays (it's smack in the middle of the week and sometimes you need an extra little something to get through it, don't you think?) and there would be no such thing as malnutrition or war. Oh, and there'd  be more glitter and sequins. Definitely.

What would the world be like if you were in charge?


To doing one thing that makes us feel like we are in charge of the world (I've had ice cream today, thank you very much).

Goethe on The Sense of the Beautiful

“A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.”
― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe


Have you heard some music (and/or made some), read any poetry or seen a fine picture today yet? Go listen/read/see if you haven't yet. It's not too late.

Isn't it strange that for all the technological leaps and bounds we've made in the past centuries since Goethe died, life is still the same in certain ways? There are still the same worldly cares...and the same cures - music, poetry, art. Something that elevates you above the tedium.

Today was one of those days I really needed to focus on the sense of the beautiful.

To listening to music, reading poetry and looking at art every day and to maintaining our sense of the beautiful. 

Monday Mainstay: Leisure (William Henry Davies)

Leisure

William Henry Davies

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this is if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

It's pretty common to hear that someone is busy. It's almost like a competition sometimes. But I don't want to be the busiest person. I never want to be too busy "to stand and stare." I think there are lovely moments that arise only from standing still, from staring at something and letting your mind drift wherever it pleases.

So this Monday, stay still for a while. To standing and staring.

Monday Mainstay: Kim Addonizio's What Do Women Want?

What Do Women Want?
Kim Addonizio
 
I want a red dress.
I want it flimsy and cheap,
I want it too tight, I want to wear it
until someone tears it off me.
I want it sleeveless and backless,
this dress, so no one has to guess
what's underneath. I want to walk down
the street past Thrifty's and the hardware store
with all those keys glittering in the window,
past Mr. and Mrs. Wong selling day-old
donuts in their café, past the Guerra brothers
slinging pigs from the truck and onto the dolly,
hoisting the slick snouts over their shoulders.
I want to walk like I'm the only
woman on earth and I can have my pick.
I want that red dress bad.
I want it to confirm
your worst fears about me,
to show you how little I care about you
or anything except what
I want. When I find it, I'll pull that garment
from its hanger like I'm choosing a body
to carry me into this world, through
the birth-cries and the love-cries too,
and I'll wear it like bones, like skin,
it'll be the goddamned
dress they bury me in. 

I want a red dress. I want to be a little reckless and channel a glamorous movie star (maybe Elizabeth Taylor) and not think about consequences and plans and The Future. Just for a while.

To red dresses and whatever they may represent to you. 

Monday Mainstay: a (second) Emily Dickinson poem

There is no frigate like a book
To take us lands away,
Nor any courses like a page
Of prancing poetry.

This traverse may be the poorest take
Without oppress of toll;
How frugal is the chariot
That bears a human soul!


If it's not obvious by now, I love to read. I love how books can whisk you to "lands away," no matter what is going on.

To books taking us "lands away."

Monday Mainstay: an Emily Dickinson poem

IF I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin	5
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

                                                  -Emily Dickinson

I've decided that Mondays need a little something to brighten them up. So this Monday, it's Emily Dickinson to the rescue.  I think she's eased the aching in countless lives and cooled countless pains - maybe even stopped hearts from breaking. Her words still resonate with us today.

I must say that one of the reasons this particular poem appeals to me so much is its simplicity. She says everything outright and so clearly and elegantly, too. This poem is so utterly sincere; doesn't it kind of stop you in your tracks?

To not living in vain and to Emily Dickinson.

Faith and Poetry (Natasha Trethewey)

http://www.npr.org/2012/06/08/154566358/natasha-trethewey-poetrys-always-a-kind-of-faith


Faith. What comes to mind - God/Buddha/Jehovah/etc. and religion? Family? Country?

Poetry. High school English class. Memorization. Shakespeare and incomprehensible words. Blah blah blah. Why should I care? Why does this matter?

I used to not like poetry. I hated analyzing it. I didn't get it. And then I don't know, I started reading it more. First, it was because I had to. Now, it's because I want to. (Funny how that can happen, isn't it?)

I love what Trethewey (new U.S. poet laureate) says about poetry.

"I think poetry's always a kind of faith. It is the kind that I have," Trethewey says. "It is what can offer solace and meaning but also ... allows me to understand these events."

If someone asked me to explain why poetry is relevant today, I think that quote is a fine answer. (Of course, not everyone finds faith in poetry. Sometimes it takes some ice cream or talking to a friend or crying it out or whatever. But I've always been able to find comfort in words.)

There is so much going on in the world today. If you skim newspaper headlines, sometimes it seems like there are only negative things: war, destruction, fires, death. Greed and corruption and people hurting other people. And yet there are still poets. Still artists and dreamers and people trying to live their lives the best way they can. 

So here's to faith, and poetry. If you think you don't like poetry, please try reading different types of poetry. I bet you'll find at least a few poems you relate to and love.