World Poetry Day a Day Late

 Thursday was World Poetry today.  But what the heck, I'll make it Friday. Just a day late. Maybe I was too busy writing some poems

or gazing at the sky

or watching the return of 

the ducks

returned to hang poolside

as they flew overhead did they notice

weeds in our yard, leaves in the pool

wish we'd clean up more?

non-judgmental, they glide under

diving board overhang, content quacks

settle in sun, afternoon snooze

raise flag for cabana service

to no avail, one last dip

before takeoff, emerald head

glints in cloudless sky

by Joanne Faries

Happy Friday and Weekend and Poetry 

Friday Farewell - Mary Oliver

Poet, Mary Oliver passed away yesterday at the age of 83.  She didn't write "fancy" poetry, as she called it.  She just wrote from the heart and could capture nature, life, and love with stunning imagery.  I admired her work, and fortunately, her words will live on.

Here is a stanza from  Dream of Trees  by Mary Oliver

There is a thing in me that dreamed of trees,

A quiet house, some green and modest acres

A little way from every troubling town,

A little way from factories, schools, laments.

I would have time, I thought, and time to spare,

With only streams and birds for company,

To build out of my life a few wild stanzas.

And then it came to me, that so was death,

A little way away from everywhere.

Book Review - Sailing Alone Around the Room by Billy Collins

Poet Laureate Billy Collins writes accessible poetry. It's subtle and real and human. I love his writing and his work seems so easy and off the cuff. I know it's not and I'm sure he agonized over every line. However, his words flow and just tell a story of normal life. Or his everyday observations could have been mine, except way better.

(back cover blurb) Possessed of a unique voice that is at once plain and melodic, Billy Collins has managed to enrich American poetry. 

Here's one stanza from "Madmen"
They say you can jinx a poem
if you talk about it before it is done
If you let it out too early, they warn, 
your poem will fly away
and this time they are absolutely right

Or from "Snow Day"
Today we woke up to a revolution of snow,
its white flag waving over everything
the landscape vanished
not a single mouse to punctuate the blankness,
and beyond these windows

He epitomizes the word sublime.....

Announcing Wordsplash Hodgepodge

Wordsplash Hodgepodge  by Joanne Faries brings a mixture of whimsy to your day. Hodgepodge is a hash, a jumble – a word stew. The author’s poetry from A to Z exudes energy, reflection, and food. Eat a waffle for dinner as you waffle over life choices.

Dash through a sprinkler or shed a shoe as you experience other random poems.

Want a quick read? Splash in the flash – six wee stories with some tiny twists to surprise and delight.

Finally, is a memoir ever truly done? Enjoy three more tales – additions to My Zoo World and Athletic Antics. 

Available now on Amazon - paperback or Kindle

 https://www.amazon.com/Wordsplash-Hodgepodge-Joanne-Faries-ebook/dp/B01J882KC0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1471364119&sr=8-1&keywords=wordsplash+hodgepodge#nav-subnav

Book Review - Rainbow Chasers

http://www.amazon.com/Rainbow-chaser-Connie-Biltz


Rainbow Chaser by Connie Biltz is a book full of lovely poetry.  There is no hidden agenda, no secret symbolism, no need to be afraid of poetry.  She uses imagery, rhyme, whimsy, and the unexpected in her poems (cover blurb)

I enjoyed her humor and sheer joy in her approach to the world - nature, family, everyday  life.

I cannot pinpoint a favorite poem - they are all filled with joy and wonder. The author is authentic and she gives subtle pause.......subtle surprise as she views the world.

I highly recommend this book.  Become a rainbow chaser and embrace the poetry of Connie Biltz. You will not be disappointed.

January Poem - Needled

Needled

I believe

I believe in Christmas obliteration

Joyous decoration occurs in early December

painstaking placement of treasured ornaments

heartwarming welcome to Santas and snowmen

time honored traditions prevail

two foot tall nutcrackers greet everyone at

the front door, while jaunty caroler figures

sing from bookshelves galore

the tree stands tall, as a red velvet cloth hides

its ugly stand. Shiny packages, complete with bows

beckon to be opened. Up until December 25^th, Christmas

poses with no bad side for the camera.

then

it is over.

naked, the fake tree lists to port.

like a minesweeper I whoosh the figurines and baubles

into boxes. Done. Finished. Farewell faithful holiday

treats. Gaudy reds and greens seem too garish for January

Christmas does protest and tries to linger

lights refuse original packaging

one Santa hides on a far shelf, daring to be found and boxed

and no matter how often you vacuum, there are needles

the tree, in pieces, is stuffed into the attic

a week later                        needles

two weeks later                       needles

Easter arrives                                       needles

I believe they win

by Joanne Faries

Book Review - Felicity by Mary Oliver

Book cover blurb sums it up
Our most delicate chronicler of physical landscape, Mary Oliver has described her work as loving the world. With Felicity she examines what it means to love another person. She opens our eyes to the territory within our own hearts, to the wild and to the quiet. 

This book is filled with joy. Economy of words, simple phrases - they all paint a wise picture of life and love.

Here are the opening lines to I Don't Want to Lose

I don't want to lose a single thread
from the intricate brocade of this happiness
I want to remember everything

Seek out Mary Oliver's poetry. It will give you a sense of peace and calm.
A soothing balm after a stress-filled day.

Poem: She Let Go

she let go 

after a month of rain

weary grip on the earth

the strain to live

tasked her roots 

she had no roots

vague memory of youth

intense growth period

heat cycled, hail pounded 

wind whipped

green lacy leaves lingered

branches presented a brave prayer

beseeched the sky 

sap starved, she dried up inside

despite surging storms

she keeled over

hitting her crown on the roof 

final farewell scraped

windows

tiny root tendrils exposed her

secret  

so shallow

 

 

 

Note - Ray and I took a walk around the block after our May storms. A rather large maple was uprooted on another street. She looked healthy enough up top with green leaves, but alas, huge gaping hole in the yard revealed.....nothing.

 

Book Review: Blue Horses by Mary Oliver

Every so often I'll check a book of poems out of the library. You can't go wrong with Mary Oliver. Her latest collection, Blue Horses, is a treat and yes it makes me feel very inadequate when I re-read my own poetry. But that's okay.

cover blurb:  Mary Oliver returns to the stunning imagery that has defined her life's work, describing with wonder both the everyday and the unaffected beauty of nature.

Here are two stanzas from Stebbin's Gulch
              the water pours
              it pours
              it pours
              ever along the slant

              of downgrade
              dashing its silver thumbs
              against the rock
              or pausing to carve

Her poems seem simple, but they are rich with humor and observation. As the reader, you are on a stroll with her and she stops to point out something. Then you stand and discuss it a bit. When you move on, you are a better person for that moment in time.

Book Review: Chasers of the Light by Tyler Knott Gregson

From the back cover blurb - The Epic Made Simple, The Miracle in the Mundane.
Author Tyler Knott Gregson bought a vintage Remington typewriter and began to knock out poems on scraps of paper, grocery receipts, and no editing. These poems illuminate grand gestures and small glimpses, poems that celebrate the beauty of a life spent chasing the light.

I really enjoyed reading the poems in this book - Chasers of the Light: Poems from the Typewriter Series.  They are rich and yet simplistic, and totally heartfelt. After reading them, I sighed - just content in the feelings.

Here's one example by Tyler Knott Gregson  (picture it in old typewriter print)

I kiss you
and
on your lips
I taste the sea
and the
sea
has always been
home
to me

I truly recommend this book of poems, and have no doubt I'll be re-reading much of his work.
There are many I wish I'd written myself.

Frozen Pond Poem

Frozen Pond

by Joanne Faries 

first layer glistened in the sun

second and more glazed surface bluish

until the ice was leaden gray, stolid  

word traveled before days of texts

social media was the knock on the door

excited squeals, exhorted to grab skates

caps, mittens, red scarfs, rustle of ski pants

we blew on our hands, then fingers fumbled

to lace skates. Gloves on, we wobbled

pushed off from makeshift log seats  

 

uncertain of space 

 

no indoor circle. No calliope

music blare or disco ball for couples skate

embrace freedom to dash, meander, spin 

avoid older boys’ hockey game

reddened cheeks, drippy noses

we exhaled fog and shouted, “Tag, you’re it.” 

until legs wearied, lungs burned

backside bruised from too many spills

afternoon sun waned 

we trudged home

skates clicked, dangled from our hands

kitchen light beckoned 

hot chocolate hope

 

Book Launch: Old Broads Waxing Poetic

Back cover blurb:

They are not going to take it sitting down. Well, some of them are. Though they’re being robbed of their girlish looks, ability to bend without creaking, and stylish footwear, you can’t take away their spirit. Rhyme or shine, they’re eight Old Broads on a mission to bare their souls by writing from their pacemakers. Some of them are dusting off feelings that haven’t been touched for decades, while others are shooting straight from their bionic hips.  

They also touch on serious subjects we all can relate to on some level, but just when you think nothing could be sadder, they promise to lift you up again. What makes Old Broads extra special is all proceeds will go directly to CARE International. 

As you turn the pages, even the poems without surprise endings will surprise you, because odds are, you won’t remember reading them, and most of the broads won’t remember writing them.

http://www.amazon.com/Broads-Waxing-Poetic-Julie-Kemp/dp/1500642800/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1409783608&sr=8-1&keywords=Old+Broads+Waxing+Poetic

I am pleased to be a part of this excellent collection.  In salute to the book launch, we are asking blog readers to respond in the comments with a blurb on their favorite old broad. Write a sentence or two or a poem and let us know who you look up to. You could win a copy.  (and feel free to buy the book, too, as gifts.  It's for a great cause - CARE International)

My favorite old broad was my Nana Crowther. She wore sturdy shoes, always had on an apron, loved listening to Phillies baseball on the radio, and handed me fifty cents for good report cards. A faithful letter writer, she kept my mailbox from echoing when I was off to college, or moved to Texas. After she passed, I learned she was a bit of a suffragette back in the day to get women the right to vote. Julia Crowther was salt of the earth from Indiana and Pennsylvania.

Thanks for joining me in this book launch for Old Broads Waxing Poetic compiled by Julie Kemp Pick and Susan Flett Swiderski.   Including poets - Connie Biltz, Julie Kemp Pick, Susan Flett Swiderski, Fran Fischer, Robyn Engel, Delores Lowndes, Liza Carens Salerno, and me.

Travel Poem

Les Voyageurs, Marseilles, France

 

 

battered  luggage  by Joanne Faries 

wobbly wheel

worn zipper

strap caught in

carousel circulation

errant side trips

security gropings

overstuffed treats

ocean breeze

mountain snow

ten year adventure

hauled to attic 

make room for ultra-lite

advanced technology 

travel system

Poem: First Day

first day 

varies year to year dependent on weather

rainy cool nights bring the chill

postpone the expectations

pool lounge laziness 

 

 

first day cloudless, slight breeze

kids run/walk to diving board

minimal bounce hurls them shrieking

arm flail, half tuck, cannonball burbles 

 

 

she saunters to shallow end, dips the toe

lowers one step, and another

pale legs shimmer, as she oozes

breath intake as slight splash cools  

 

 

small of the back

she initiates plunge immersion

emerges renewed, winter memory erased

adjusts bathing strap, leans back to float

 

first day of summer declared

 

 

by Joanne Faries

 

Silent Sunday

 Photos courtesy of Ray Faries from San Saba two weeks ago. The rugged Texas hill country has its moment of colorful glory

color abounds
beware the beauty
deep deception
thorns pierce the soul

Book Review: Aimless Love by Billy Collins

Two term Poet Laureate, Billy Collins writes poetry that is sublime. It is plain and yet descriptive. Humor shines through, and each poem paints a slice of life. I like to think I write some poetry, but Mr. Collins's collection humbles me in its simplicity.

cover blurb: By turns playful, ironic, and serious, Collins's poetry captures the nuances of everyday life while leading the reader into zones of inspired wonder.

He often writes about writing poetry, as if he can't believe this is his "job".

Here is the opening of "Velocity" by Billy Collins:
In the club car that morning I had my notebook
open on my lap and my pen uncapped
looking every inch the writer
right down to the little writer's frown on my face

but there was nothing to write about
except life and death
and the low warning sound of the train whistle

He continues to meander with the train, tells a story, and it's so smooth. You don't think "Gosh I'm slogging through a poem." The whole book is full of these short poems disguised as tales of life.

I laughed out loud at the poem "Hangover".  The words Marco Polo        Marco Polo as spaced on the page are genius.

Aimless Love by Billy Collins will convert you into a poetry lover.

Not the Zoo

no lions 

 

in the park today 

mother pushing stroller

reassured blond toddler

her clipped british tone

kept tiger’s stalk

panther’s pounce

gorilla growl at bay

 

by Joanne Faries

 

(On Good Friday, at the Dallas Arboretum, I heard those words from a mother pushing a stroller. Obviously the little boy had asked the lion question thinking of past trips to a zoo. My friend and I chuckled - we reviewed our flowery stroll and indeed had been safe from wild animals. )

Flowery Friday

spring snowballs 

delicate white petals

bundled in full bloom

reminiscent of winter

no mittens required

 

 

 

photo and poem by Joanne Faries

Poem: Mexican Petunias

Mexican Petunias

 

by Joanne Faries

 

crumpled brown stalks

faltered after freeze

ice smothered, they collapsed

no memory of purple posies

withered bleak garden

 wind rustled

hunkered  slumber

Poem: Corner Crop

Corner Crop

by Joanne Faries

 

candidate embraces God's earth

oozes green gooshy pledges

smears competition over fracking

accepts gas money contributions

blankets countryside with patriotic

banners. Signs of environmental love

 

 

 

 

 

Note - I returned a book to the library the other day and could barely find the building for all of the campaign signs, tents, and clamor. The election madness these days is out of hand.