Isn't it? I also love the reversal: You make your own path as you walk./ As you walk, you make your own road. So the poem looks back on itself, just as the traveler does. And the idea that there is no road but the one you create yourself--yeah that resonates.
Your writing today stretches the definition and necessity of poetry in our lives. Thank you for the writing, the suggestions and the broader understanding of our art of saying more with less words. Yes, the intimacy of poetry brings us together in variously new ways. Some favorite contemporary poets, whose works I read, along with works of many others:
Robert Bly….David Whyte….Natasha Josefowitz….Ogden Nash….Jane Hirshfield….Billy Collins….Sharon Olds….Shel Silverstein
Your readers know you are bb - beyond brilliant - but today's piece on poetry leaps beyond brilliance - into wisdom and wonder. As does poetry - your words on the power, beauty and danger of poetry allows us a glimpse into the always... into infinity. Thank you.
Now, your prose is anything but prosaic. But tell me, are you at some point going to share some of your own poems? Don't let modesty hold you back; your readers are all wondering and waiting.
About flax... someone should be experimenting! I grew it as a winter cover in a large vegetable garden bed. It is soooo beautiful. I was very delighted with it. It nourishes the soil, and then you have a usable product. Super easy to pull out. Someone ??
My neighbor and friend, Max Bidasha has written a profound poetry book, available at Bookmine Napa.
“The Pros and Cons of Dying”is written about his terminal bout of a rare cancer experience- and yet he lives here in Napa. It is funny,sad,astoundingly real. Stopped me in my tracks. I read twice in one night. You don’t have to have cancer to relate, but we will all die.
Ah, poetry. While I have never taken a class, or tried really hard to write or read poetry, about 10 years ago when I was in graduate school, meeting with clients, each of whom was adjusting to the many challenges they were facing as elders- isolation, frailty, loss, grief, adjustment and so much more, I found myself writing my client notes in poetry when I could not use any other writing tool. I did this for about 1/3 of my client load, but it was incredibly helpful is taking me into their experiences, where I needed to better understand what they were working with and through. When I realized that I was doing this for certain clients and not others, I really stepped back to see if I could discern why. Your statement:" It is a lifeline. It unsettles and consoles in equal measure. It opens, connects, reveals" hit the mark. Thank you.
Thank you, Tim., You never cease to amaze. Now you add poetry to the breadth and depth of your work on NVF. You are indeed a dangerous man.
A favorite poem: “Hurt Hawks” by Robinson Jeffers
This poem has carried me through many things:
The Meaning of Birds
Charlie Smith
Of the genesis of birds we know nothing,
save the legend they are descended
from reptiles: flying, snap-jawed lizards
that have somehow taken to air. Better the story
that they were crab-apple blossoms
or such, blown along by the wind; time after time
finding themselves tossed from perhaps a seaside tree,
floated or lifted over the thin blue lazarine waves
until something in the snatch of color
began to flutter and rise. But what does it matter
anyway how they got up high
in the trees or over the rusty shoulders
of some mountain? There they are,
little figments,
animated—soaring. And if occasionally a tern washes up
greased and stiff, and sometimes a cardinal
or a mockingbird slams against the windshield
and your soul goes oh God and shivers
at the quick and unexpected end
to beauty, it is not news that we live in a world
where beauty is unexplainable
and suddenly ruined
and has its own routines. We are often far
from home in a dark town, and our griefs
are difficult to translate into a language
understood by others. We sense the downswing of time
and learn, having come of age, that the reluctant
concessions made in youth
are not sufficient to heat the cold drawn breath
of age. Perhaps temperance
was not enough, foresight or even wisdom
fallacious, not only in conception
but in the thin acts
themselves. So our lives are difficult,
and perhaps unpardonable, and the fey gauds
of youth have, as the old men told us they would,
faded. But still, it is morning again, this day.
In the flowering trees
the birds take up their indifferent, elegant cries.
Look around. Perhaps it isn’t too late
to make a fool of yourself again. Perhaps it isn’t too late
to flap your arms and cry out, to give
one more cracked rendition of your singular, aspirant song.
My adult ESL and Citizenship Preparation students, many of whom have traveled far and gone through a lot to be here, love this poem by Machado:
Caminante, son tus huellas
el camino y nada más;
Caminante, no hay camino,
se hace camino al andar.
Al andar se hace el camino,
y al volver la vista atrás
se ve la senda que nunca
se ha de volver a pisar.
Caminante, no hay camino
sino estelas en la mar.
Traveler, your footprints
are the only road, nothing else.
Traveler, there is no road;
you make your own path as you walk.
As you walk, you make your own road,
and when you look back
you see the path
you will never travel again.
Traveler, there is no road;
only a ship's wake on the sea.
Antonio Machado
--XO from one of your lurking local poets...
Poignant!
Isn't it? I also love the reversal: You make your own path as you walk./ As you walk, you make your own road. So the poem looks back on itself, just as the traveler does. And the idea that there is no road but the one you create yourself--yeah that resonates.
Really a great piece on poetry even though today's poem might be a little iffy.
Your writing today stretches the definition and necessity of poetry in our lives. Thank you for the writing, the suggestions and the broader understanding of our art of saying more with less words. Yes, the intimacy of poetry brings us together in variously new ways. Some favorite contemporary poets, whose works I read, along with works of many others:
Robert Bly….David Whyte….Natasha Josefowitz….Ogden Nash….Jane Hirshfield….Billy Collins….Sharon Olds….Shel Silverstein
Your readers know you are bb - beyond brilliant - but today's piece on poetry leaps beyond brilliance - into wisdom and wonder. As does poetry - your words on the power, beauty and danger of poetry allows us a glimpse into the always... into infinity. Thank you.
Grateful.
So beautifully expressed, Rebecca.
Thank you Laurie! Hope you are well.♥️
Thank you for the references to other poets.
Now, your prose is anything but prosaic. But tell me, are you at some point going to share some of your own poems? Don't let modesty hold you back; your readers are all wondering and waiting.
My favorite lines of poetry, from "The Voiceless," by Oliver Wendell Holmes:
Alas for those that never sing,
But die with all their music in them!
Thank you, Tim, for reminding us of the awesome power and beauty of the English language.
You could add Mary Oliver to your list of poets to return to often.
About flax... someone should be experimenting! I grew it as a winter cover in a large vegetable garden bed. It is soooo beautiful. I was very delighted with it. It nourishes the soil, and then you have a usable product. Super easy to pull out. Someone ??
My neighbor and friend, Max Bidasha has written a profound poetry book, available at Bookmine Napa.
“The Pros and Cons of Dying”is written about his terminal bout of a rare cancer experience- and yet he lives here in Napa. It is funny,sad,astoundingly real. Stopped me in my tracks. I read twice in one night. You don’t have to have cancer to relate, but we will all die.
BuyThisBook.
Thank you Tim ! You are amazing. Here’s my list of favorite poems that I often go back to.
Charlie Simic “DimeStore Alchemy”
Dana Goia “Interrogations at Noon”
Wendell Berry ‘The Farm”
Wallace Stevens “Poems”
Kay Ryan “Say Uncle “
Dorianne Laux “What we Carry”
Lisel Mueller “Alive Together”
Denise Levertov “ Poems 1960- 1967”
Sharon Olds “Strike Sparks”
Marge Pierce “The Moon Is always Female”
Molly Peacock “Cornucopia”
Walter Benton “This is My beloved”
May Sweden “The Love Poems”
Kenneth Patechen “Hallelujah Anyway”
Leonard Cohen “Book of Longings”
John Tarrant “Bring Me the Rhinoceros: And Other Zen Koans to Bring You Joy”
Yes to poetry, astonishment.
Ah, poetry. While I have never taken a class, or tried really hard to write or read poetry, about 10 years ago when I was in graduate school, meeting with clients, each of whom was adjusting to the many challenges they were facing as elders- isolation, frailty, loss, grief, adjustment and so much more, I found myself writing my client notes in poetry when I could not use any other writing tool. I did this for about 1/3 of my client load, but it was incredibly helpful is taking me into their experiences, where I needed to better understand what they were working with and through. When I realized that I was doing this for certain clients and not others, I really stepped back to see if I could discern why. Your statement:" It is a lifeline. It unsettles and consoles in equal measure. It opens, connects, reveals" hit the mark. Thank you.
Tim, you continue to be such an important voice. This Sunday E-Edition is a gift! Also, I wish I could read more of Ben's writing.