poetree | Sunday Picnic With Homemade Puns

jjhunter

Sunday, every Sunday, let's have a community picnic. It's probably been a long week, and it's lovely to have a few minutes to sit back and relax and enjoy some good conversation in a less formal space. Feel free to bring something for the Picnic Basket - a poem you liked this week, a thought you had or something you experienced, or even something completely unrelated to poetry whatsoever that you just feel like sharing. Just take a moment to say hello, and maybe have a bite to eat; no one is going anywhere fast, and the shade promises some relief from the everyday heat. Let’s get to know each other a bit better, here under the branches of the poet’s tree.

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From:

poetree_admin

Have a poetry-related post or posts this week from your own journal/space that you'd like to share with the community? Comment on this thread with the link(s) and a brief description of you're linking to.

From:

poetree_admin

This is the thread for non-personal, i.e. 'general' poetry news. Submission deadlines for poetry-related 'zines, news re: poets from outside the comm, and so on.

From:

poetree_admin

We're looking for volunteer Hosts for this upcoming week (Mon., Dec. 10th - Sat., Dec. 15th) and the week after (Mon., Dec. 17th - Sat., Dec. 22nd). For more information on what Hosting entails, please check out the current signup post.

From:

peoppenheimer

I'm listening to Brené Brown's Daring Greatly. She writes and speaks movingly of her research on vulnerability, resilience, perfectionism, and related topics. Her chapter on perfectionism may be a particular point of connection for some poets.
I love poetry that combines vulnerability with precision.

From:

primeideal

Angsty (and rather abstract) sonnet: http://primeideal.dreamwidth.org/5907.html

From:

jjhunter

At a memorial service I attended recently, there were several poems by David Whyte included, which was the first time I had ever encountered his work. This one in particular moved me:

The Opening of Eyes

That day I saw beneath dark clouds
the passing light over the water
and I heard the voice of the world speak out,
I knew then, as I had before
life is no passing memory of what has been
nor the remaining pages in a great book
waiting to be read.

It is the opening of eyes long closed.
It is the vision of far off things
seen for the silence they hold.
It is the heart after years
of secret conversing
speaking out loud in the clear air.

It is Moses in the desert
fallen to his knees before the lit bush.
It is the man throwing away his shoes
as if to enter heaven
and finding himself astonished,
opened at last,
fallen in love with solid ground.

-- David Whyte
from Songs for Coming Home
©1984 Many Rivers Press

From:

jjhunter

I love poetry that combines vulnerability with precision

I've never heard it put quite like that before, but yes - yes. Poetry at its best can get right to the heart of something and expose it beating, loving, living.

From:

jjhunter

I can fall silent and just let you speak
And in so doing, pass for one of you

gives me the shivers. I don't generally like sonnets, but there are aspects of yours that are raw and powerful in ways that break the usual mold. Well done.

From:

jjhunter

I...may have invented a new variation on the etheree this week? Or at least given the variation a new name. The 'demi etheree' is very much like a double etheree, except halved. For an example, see my demi etheree Sleep.

From:

primeideal

Thank you very much!

From:

raze

The brindle pup is now with a rescue, but on Monday, someone dumped a litter of pups off at my workplace, and I wound up fostering one until a rescue org could take her this past Saturday. She had a blast playing with our foster pup Friday, the pit mix pictured, as this image shows.

Dogs are a popular poetry subject. There's a cute book of short, humorous poems called, "If Only You Knew How Much I Smell You" that pairs photography of dogs with short poems about the images. It has some pretty mixed reviews, but if you're a dog person and not terribly offended when poems don't ryme (which... sigh, so many of the reviews...), you might enjoy it. I was reminded of the book when the foster pup managed to wreck a laptop cord and a $50 pair of shoes the first night she was here. There's a line in the book that goes, what does that mean, "expensive shoe?"/I ate it because it smelled like you. Cracks me up every time.

From:

raze

I don't... think I've posted this here before? I rarely write poems, but when I do, they're generally from the perspective of characters rather than myself. I wrote Not A Love Poem for one of the couples in my series.

From:

spiralsheep

That pit has got the shepherd licked.... ;-)

And the line you quoted cracked me up too!

I was recenlty trying to explain how limited human perceptions are (compared to, for example, tech perceptions about the universe around us) and I resorted to "If dogs made art then galleries would be all about the scents instead of the sights".

From:

alee_grrl

This photo is adorable. I will have to check out the book. The bit you quoted is hilarious.

From:

cadenzamuse

Well, I am still trying to write a poem a day. It's turning out more like a poem every other day, or a poem every three days, but I'm still trying. :)

http://cadenzamuse.dreamwidth.org/tag/nablopomo

From:

anonymous_sibyl

I fell into Eavan Boland's works this week. Here's an excerpt from Domestic Violence. (The full poem can be found here. She reminds me a bit of Elizabeth Bishop and Adrienne Rich. For some reason when I read this poem I found myself thinking of Bishop's "Sestina" and Rich's "Aunt Jennifer's Tigers."

4.

We failed our moment or our moment failed us.
The times were grand in size and we were small.
Why do I write that
when I don't believe it?

We lived our lives, were happy, stayed as one.
Children were born and raised here
and are gone,
including ours.

As for that couple did we ever
find out who they were
and did we want to?
I think we know. I think we always knew.