POM: April 1
April is all about poetry,being it’s National Poetry Month. In anticipation of this wonderful joyous month of celebrating verse I’ve been busy collecting poems about poets. Here is the first postcelebrating poets and their contribution:
April is all about poetry,being it’s National Poetry Month. In anticipation of this wonderful joyous month of celebrating verse I’ve been busy collecting poems about poets. Here is the first postcelebrating poets and their contribution:
January is that in between month. The newness of winter’s snow has moved into icy gray lumps at the side of the driveway. In order to not lose myself in thinking I’m stuck into a Narnian winterland, I try to see winter from different perspectives. I appreciate the idea of stubbornly clinging on to the past season of leafy trees and, of course, Whitman always has a new view to consider. There is also William Carlos Williams and his take on the first month of the year.
Each year I mark one lone outstanding tree,
Clad in its robings of the summer past,
Dry, wan, and shivering in the wintry blast.
It will not pay the season’s rightful fee,—
It will not set its frost-burnt leafage free;
But like some palsied miser all aghast,
Who hoards his sordid treasure to the last,

image: morguefile
Sounds of the winter too,
Sunshine upon the mountains—many a distant strain
From cheery railroad train—from nearer field, barn, house
The whispering air—even the mute crops, garner’d apples, corn,
Children’s and women’s tones—rhythm of many a farmer and of flail,
And old man’s garrulous lips among the rest, Think not we give out
yet,
Forth from these snowy hairs we keep up yet the lilt
|
The subtle theme that ties these three poems together is the intertwining of nature as the speaker reflects upon his or her circumstance.
The Thaw by Henry David Thoreau
I saw the civil sun drying earth’s tears —
Her tears of joy that only faster flowed,
Fain would I stretch me by the highway side,
To thaw and trickle with the melting snow,
That mingled soul and body with the tide,
I too may through the pores of nature flow.
But I alas nor tinkle can nor fume,
One jot to forward the great work of Time,
‘Tis mine to hearken while these ply the loom,
So shall my silence with their music chime.
———–
—–
June is an interesting month around my parts. In the time it takes to say “what’s it gonna do today?” the weather changes, so we don’t know whether it will be chilly or hot. At the beginning of the month it has been known to be cold enough to have a frosty wake up, so we light a chill-breaker in the morning, only to run the air conditioner by mid-afternoon due to the surge in temperature. It makes for the school’s outdoor graduation an interesting guess. I’m glad I don’t have to make that call of inside or outside.
This radical rolling of temperature swings causes some bodacious storms at times. The sudden swirl of wind, rattling of angry rain, that tempers out into penitent miffs of drips as the sky clears into blue and friendly puffy clouds once again. Oh I do enjoy those brief summer storms. I hide out under the back porch to witness these summer snits. I guess they reflect the ocassional temper tantrum I might have tossed about in my younger days ( I’m not admitting anything).
Leonara Speyer captures well that brief snit fit found in summer:
Squall by Leonora Speyer
The squall sweeps gray-winged across the obliterated hills,
And the startled lake seems to run before it;
From the wood comes a clamor of leaves,
Tugging at the twigs,
Pouring from the branches,
And suddenly the birds are still.
Thunder crumples the sky,
Lightning tears at it.
And now the rain!
The rain—thudding—implacable—
The wind, reveling in the confusion of great pines!
And a silver sifting of light,
A coolness;
A sense of summer anger passing,
Of summer gentleness creeping nearer—
Penitent, tearful,
Forgiven!
I would be remiss if I did not include a poem that reflects the current situation of June: IT IS REALLY, REALLY HOT, and way too early for such heat–at least in our parts. So here is another side of summer that reminds us that while summer is mostly lovely it can be hot as riding into battle.
To Summer by William Blake
O thou who passest thro’ our valleys in
Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat
That flames from their large nostrils! thou, O Summer,
Oft pitched’st here thy golden tent, and oft
Beneath our oaks hast slept, while we beheld
With joy thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair.
Beneath our thickest shades we oft have heard
Thy voice, when noon upon his fervid car
Rode o’er the deep of heaven; beside our springs
Sit down, and in our mossy valleys, on
Some bank beside a river clear, throw thy
Silk draperies off, and rush into the stream:
Our valleys love the Summer in his pride.
Our bards are fam’d who strike the silver wire:
Our youth are bolder than the southern swains:
Our maidens fairer in the sprightly dance:
We lack not songs, nor instruments of joy,
Nor echoes sweet, nor waters clear as heaven,
Nor laurel wreaths against the sultry heat.
For an interesting commentary on the poem, check out this link.
I’m finding it difficult to wean myself from inserting a poem into my blog having recently filled my April calendar with a daily poem. So who says I have to? Good, glad we agree on this. Along with my spotlights on blogs, my ongoing series on “Why We Say,” as well as the usual spate of book reviews, I will include a POM–Poem of the Month. There are just way too many poems to wait again until National Poetry Month in April to post. Yes, I’m a confessed poetry junkie. Indeed.
In fact, I am accruing so many poems already, that my meter is running overtime (that’s for you, Mike A.). Here are three plus one extra, just because I couldn’t stop at three poems that seem to fit my almost-done-with-the-school-year mood.
“The Yawn”--my students are yawning a lot these days. I can’t believe studying the poems and literature of the Modern Era isn’t making them jump up and down with enthralled enrapture.
“The Mentor”–I’m hoping down the road my students will realize they truly did learn something in my class.
“Dandelion”–though I teach English, not science, I do find wisdom in knowing the importance of knowing parts to understand the whole. And, yes, I am ready to float away on strands of gossamer fluff.
“Who Burns for the Perfection of Paper”--I do appreciate paper. My life would not be the same without it. I can relate to paper cuts as well.
This poem is for all you teachers out there, and yes, to you students as well. We ask a question, and know our students know the answer, but there is such a reluctance to share the knowledge, unless you are the student who always has the willingness. What about the others? This poem helps to unravel the mystery of the reluctant hand.

“Take a chance…” image: galleryhip.com
I Woke: —
Night, lingering, poured upon the world
Of drowsy hill and wood and lake
Her moon-song,
And the breeze accompanied with hushed fingers
On the birches.
Gently the dawn held out to me
A golden handful of bird’s-notes.
I hand out over 200 literary terms to my AP students to learn prior to their May exam. They manage to do so for the most part. Admittedly, some of the terms I keep having to remind myself of what they are, others stick in the brain and I delight when I recognize them. One such term is “polysyndenton” which is when the writer strings a series of words, usually nouns or verbs, together with a conjunction such as “and.” At first glance the reader might think, “combine that, if you please–a bit wordy and redundant, don’t you think?” Once understanding the use of polysyndenton, the reader gets that second understanding that there is a purpose to the stringing together of words. Why say you of Speyer’s writing of “hill and wood and lake”–is it superflous or meaningful?
Although it’s been out for a bit now, the fairy tale musical extravanga Into the Woods takes on new meaning in James Weldon Johnson’s poem. Meryl Streep beckoning folks to find answers in the woods is a bit creepy for my tastes, especially since I favor the serenity felt in the woods. This is one reason I am so drawn to this particular rendering of the peace, the reverance found within the forest. Are the woodlands scary or a refuge for you?
Are you bowed down in heart?
Do you but hear the clashing discords and the din of life?
Then come away, come to the peaceful wood,
Here bathe your soul in silence. Listen! Now,
From out the palpitating solitude
Do you not catch, yet faint, elusive strains?
They are above, around, within you, everywhere.
Silently listen! Clear, and still more clear, they come.
They bubble up in rippling notes, and swell in singing tones.
Now let your soul run the whole gamut of the wondrous scale
Until, responsive to the tonic chord,
It touches the diapason of God’s grand cathedral organ,
Filling earth for you with heavenly peace
And holy harmonies.

image: morguefile/modnar

Because my mother loved pocketbooks
I come alive at the opening click or close of a metal clasp.
Victoria Redel renders a stunning tribute to her mother. It’s odd how certain objects breathe life into dormant memories. The days of women ensconced in their handbags, pocketbooks, purses is one I do not currently relate to, as I am no slave to fashion and its requirements. Yet, Redel’s poem nudges a few faded portraits of “going somewhere” because my mother had a “certain purse” draped on her arm. Outings had a sense of special due to the requirement apparel, such as a matching purse crooked upon the arm. I am still drawn to old handbags and their cousins whenever I browse thrift shops. I only hold a fondness, a remembrance; I have no desire to have one perch upon my arm. I am of the backbag age, the unique tote age, the “why-would-I-switch-everything-from-one-bag-to-another?” age. Still I do look, and still I do appreciate Redel’s own penchant and tribute.
All day for too long
everything I’ve thought to say
has been about umbrellas…
I own a passel of umbrellas. Some I have adopted, since they get left in my classroom. A few I inherited from my mother-in-law who actually had an impressive collection of them, ranging from the impressive wooden-handled proper British brelly to the cheapy insurance company giveaways. I have bought my own umbrellas when the mood strikes. I carry an extra one or two in the car. Once, I stopped and gave one to a child shivering in the rain while she waited for her school bus. In fact, I toy with the idea of becoming an umbrella aficionado and giving them away as I see fit. I will wait for white hair and the Social Security checks for that to transpire. A crazy old lady is considered harmless–at least I hope my umbrellaling will be considered benign, if not quaintly amusing.

image: Morguefile/garbofromhungary