The Poetry Pantry Is Now Open! #51

The Poetry Pantry

2nd Chance Poems or 1st time shares

Anything goes!! All Poems, all Poets, All Week!!

Do you have a poem you would like to share? Something that you just felt inspired to write and want others to read. Perhaps it’s a poem that didn’t get as much exposure on your blog as you would have liked. Maybe it’s a poem that you wrote a long time ago that you would like people to revisit. That’s what this section of Poets United is for.

Each Sunday we start a new post with a New Mr. Linky for you. This is so that you can post a link to anything you want us to read, anything at all related to poetry or prose found on your own poetry blogs. It will remain open all week so that you can show us your writings and thoughts. You can post links weekly should you chose to do so. What poetry you put here is up to you so don't be afraid to share with us!!

John Clare's "Sonnet"

Sonnet

I love to see the summer beaming forth

And white wool sack clouds sailing to the north

I love to see the wild flowers come again

And mare blobs stain with gold the meadow drain

And water lillies whiten on the floods

Where reed clumps rustle like a wind shook wood

Where from her hiding place the Moor Hen pushes

And seeks her flag nest floating in bull rushes

I like the willow leaning half way o’er

The clear deep lake to stand upon its shore

I love the hay grass when the flower head swings

To summer winds and insects happy wings

That sport about the meadow the bright day

And see bright beetles in the clear lake play

John Clare, 1841.

John Clare (1793-1864) was born in the Northamptonshire village of Helpston and attended school there until he was around eleven years old, following which he was largely self-taught. Clare’s first book of poetry: Poems Descriptive of Rural Life and Scenery (1820), was very well-received, and his work was extremely popular with the public. In the 1830s, however, his popularity faded; a problem his publishers tried to correct by standardizing his verses into what they considered to be more contemporary poetic conventions. Clare wrote this Sonnet in 1841, the year before he was confined in the Northampton County Asylum where he spent the rest of his days.

Another Sonnet, for all of you. Can you tell I love Sonnets? Especially one about the summertime which is finally coming around. What do you all think of this work?

by A.M. Trumble

A Collection of John Clare's poems

I Wish I'd Written This

Have you ever read a poem, wagged your head in wishing you had written it, and then became immediately relieved that you could not have done so?  This is one such poem for me.

During the War

By Philip Levine 

When my brother came home from war

he carried his left arm in a black sling

but assured us most of it was still there.

Spring was late, the trees forgot to leaf out.

I stood in a long line waiting for bread.

The woman behind me said it was shameless,

someone as strong as I still home, still intact

while her Michael was burning to death.

Yes, she could feel the fire, could smell

his pain all the way from Tarawa–

or was it Midway?–and he so young,

younger than I, who was only fourteen,

taller, more handsome in his white uniform

turning slowly gray the way unprimed wood

grays slowly in the grate when the flames

sputter and die. “I think I’m going mad,”

she said when I turned to face her. She placed

both hands on my shoulders, kissed each eyelid,

hugged me to her breasts and whispered wetly

in my bad ear words I’d never heard before.

When I got home my brother ate the bread

carefully one slice at a time until

nothing was left but a blank plate. “Did you see her,”

he asked, “the woman in hell, Michael’s wife?”

That afternoon I walked the crowded streets

looking for something I couldn’t name,

something familiar, a face or a voice or less,

but not these shards of ash that fell from heaven.

Click on the title to go to poetryfoundation.org's posting of During the War and listen to Mr. Levine read this poem. Click on his name to learn more about Philip Levine.

The Thusday Think Tank #50 - Chocolate

Most poets are foodies and most foodies are poets. It kind of goes hand in hand if you ask me. Being a foodie has nothing to do with the ability to cook (although many can). Being a foodie is just being able to enjoy great foods prepared in many ways. If you scour our blog roll and the poetry blogging community as a whole you will notice that there is many a poet who also dabbles with food blogs or something similar. So this week with the help of Makhi we have decided to tease and tempt the taste buds and stomachs of the poets who frequent this site. What better temptation than chocolate?

MMMMM chocolate just saying and thinking about it makes my mouth actually water. I am partial to the cherry cordial. I just love biting into a yummy chocolate cream filled nugget. The simple taste of pure chocolate is multiplied the second the cherry and cream burst into your mouth. OK I should stop or I might end up sounding like a Danielle Steele novel.

This week write about chocolate. It could be the stale chocolates found at grandma’s house or the fact that your little brother always bit the heads off of you hollow chocolate bunny every Easter (I hold no grudges). Maybe you remember a lover who bribed you with chocolates or a Valentine day with Strawberries dipped in chocolate. Maybe you just want to finally get to swim in that river of chocolate you watched on Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory as a kid. Whatever it is you think of and write about, use chocolate in some way.

This may not be the easiest Think Tank we have done but at least I know it will be the tastiest. Give it try and then share it with us. We can wait to see what we bite into with the selection of chocolate poems and prose you will provide us this week.

The 50th Poetry Pantry Is Now Open!!

Yes this is number 50 and we hope to have hundreds more!!

The Poetry Pantry

2nd Chance Poems or 1st time shares

Anything goes!! All Poems, all Poets, All Week!!

Do you have a poem you would like to share? Something that you just felt inspired to write and want others to read. Perhaps it’s a poem that didn’t get as much exposure on your blog as you would have liked. Maybe it’s a poem that you wrote a long time ago that you would like people to revisit. That’s what this section of Poets United is for.

Each Sunday we start a new post with a New Mr. Linky for you. This is so that you can post a link to anything you want us to read, anything at all related to poetry or prose found on your own poetry blogs. It will remain open all week so that you can show us your writings and thoughts. You can post links weekly should you chose to do so. What poetry you put here is up to you so don't be afraid to share with us!!

Classic Poetry - "Tavern" by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Tavern

I’LL keep a little tavern

Below the high hill’s crest,

Wherein all grey-eyed people

May set them down and rest.

There shall be plates a-plenty,

And mugs to melt the chill

Of all the grey-eyed people

Who happen up the hill.

There sound will sleep the traveller,

And dream his journey’s end,

But I will rouse at midnight

The falling fire to tend.

Aye, ’tis a curious fancy—

But all the good I know

Was taught me out of two grey eyes

A long time ago.

~ Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1917

Poet and playwright Edna St. Vincent Millay was born in Rockland, Maine, USA on February 22, 1892. She was raised, along with two sisters, by her strong, independent mother.

At the age of 20, Millay entered her poem "Renascence" into a contest and won fourth place and publication in The Lyric Year, as well as critical acclaim and a Vassar scholarship. In college, she continued to write poetry and became involved in the theater. She also developed intimate relationships with several women, ultimately considering herself bisexual.

After graduation, Millay, called Vincent by her friends, spent nearly a decade living in New York’s Greenwich Village. During this time she published a volume of poetry, three plays and a grand opera.

Millay married Eugen Boissevain when she was 31. Soon after, he gave up his own work to manage Millay's career, organizing the readings and public appearances for which she became famous. According to Millay, the couple remained "sexually open" throughout their twenty-six-year marriage, which ended with his death in 1949.

Edna St. Vincent Millay died in 1950.

I Wish I'd Written This

Why is it so hard to write a great love poem?  Why does it seem that we poets never stop trying to do so?  I don't have the answer to either of those questions.  I do know, however, that when I read a great love poem, I can barely stand it.  Here is one such poem.  Tell us what you think of it in the comments section below.

Windchime
By Tony Hoagland

She goes out to hang the windchime
in her nightie and her work boots.
It’s six-thirty in the morning
and she’s standing on the plastic ice chest
tiptoe to reach the crossbeam of the porch,

windchime in her left hand,
hammer in her right, the nail
gripped tight between her teeth
but nothing happens next because
she’s trying to figure out
how to switch #1 with #3.

She must have been standing in the kitchen,
coffee in her hand, asleep,
when she heard it—the wind blowing
through the sound the windchime
wasn’t making
because it wasn’t there.

No one, including me, especially anymore believes
till death do us part,
but I can see what I would miss in leaving—
the way her ankles go into the work boots
as she stands upon the ice chest;
the problem scrunched into her forehead;
the little kissable mouth
with the nail in it.

From What Narcissism Means to Me by Tony Hoagland published by Graywolf Press http://www.graywolfpress.org/

Click on the title to go to poetryfoundation.org's posting of Windchime.  Click on the poet's name to learn more about Tony Hoagland.

The Thursday Think Tank #49 - Untitled

"There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed."

~ Ernest Hemingway

This week we offer you the simplest most difficult nearly impossible a child can do it prompt.

Your poem or prose should be titled “Untitled”.  We want you to free write.  To  purposefully have an untitled poem.  Don't give it a name.  Don't give us one you have already witten.  Write a new one! Let the writing give each person a different name for your poem when they read it.  When time permits sit down and spend 15 minutes writing. Don’t pre-plan your poem just plan your time. Sit down at your lap top or grab your pen and paper and just write. We want your raw emotion and imagination of that singular unplanned moment to take over your pen. Maybe right after reading this you can start writing.

Empty your mind so that nothing influences you and when you have done that open the flood gates. Let the ink flow at whatever races to the front of your amazingly creative brain!

The fun thing about it being untitled is that folks maybe can attempt to guess what you are writing about. When you visit some of our shared writings this week see if you can’t figure out what you are reading. Plus it will be kind of fun to see all the poetry blogrolls suddenly pop up with a bunch of "Untitled" poems.

We look forward to seeing what a blank page can do for you. Remember no cheating!! Meditate if you have to and erase the world so that you can once again create it and show it to us. I personally can’t wait to try this and read what others produce.

Life of a Poet--Timoteo

by Sherry Blue Sky

Hey, kids, when the blog Catnip first appeared on the blogroll, and I investigated, I discovered one of the way coolest poets in blogdom. I believe the first poem of Timoteo’s that I read was The White Hotel,  and I was hooked. I’ve been a follower ever since. Tim has a highly original voice. His work is very real, often humorous, always interesting, and has an underlying tinge of melancholy that, at my time of life,  I completely relate to.

For this one, you may want to forget the tea, and pour yourself a late afternoon beverage. Sit in the sun, relax and enjoy the ride. Today we’re visiting Timoteo’s part of the world, and it is weird and wonderful, beautiful and strange, and laced with lots of humor.

The Poetry Pantry Is Now Open! - #49

The Poetry Pantry

2nd Chance Poems or 1st time shares

Anything goes!! All Poems, all Poets, All Week!!

Do you have a poem you would like to share? Something that you just felt inspired to write and want others to read. Perhaps it’s a poem that didn’t get as much exposure on your blog as you would have liked. Maybe it’s a poem that you wrote a long time ago that you would like people to revisit. That’s what this section of Poets United is for.

Each Sunday we start a new post with a New Mr. Linky for you. This is so that you can post a link to anything you want us to read, anything at all related to poetry or prose found on your own poetry blogs. It will remain open all week so that you can show us your writings and thoughts. You can post links weekly should you chose to do so. What poetry you put here is up to you so don't be afraid to share with us!!

Classic Poetry-Sonnet #98: (From you have I been absent in the spring) by William Shakespeare

From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leapt with him.
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odour and in hue,
Could make me any summer's story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew:
Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
Yet seemed it winter still, and you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play.

Who is more "Classic" than Shakespeare?

Some people I've worked alongside when studying Shakespeare, preferred to overlook or ignore his poetic talent. When attempting to converse with certain academics about his works, it is as if they have blinders on, believing him to only be a playwright by trade. Not only are his plays steeped in poetics, but when writing poetry he set the standard for sonnet craft. He never deviated from that challenge in form, and when it comes to imagery and word choice he always delivered the goods. It is my opinion that he is one of the most talented poets to have ever lived.



William Shakespeare (baptised 26 April 1564; died 23 April 1616)[nb 1] was an English poet and playwright, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's pre-eminent dramatist.[1] He is often called England's national poet and the "Bard of Avon".[2][nb 2] His surviving works, including some collaborations, consist of about 38 plays,[nb 3] 154 sonnets, two long narrative poems, and several other poems. His plays have been translated into every major living language and are performed more often than those of any other playwright.[3]

Shakespeare was born and raised in Stratford-upon-Avon. At the age of 18, he married Anne Hathaway, with whom he had three children: Susanna, and twins Hamnet and Judith. Between 1585 and 1592, he began a successful career in London as an actor, writer, and part owner of a playing company called the Lord Chamberlain's Men, later known as the King's Men. He appears to have retired to Stratford around 1613, where he died three years later. Few records of Shakespeare's private life survive, and there has been considerable speculation about such matters as his physical appearance, sexuality, religious beliefs, and whether the works attributed to him were written by others...[4]


It's not enough to give the bare-bones biography of Shakespeare's life. There is just so much speculation about him. Did he even exist? "Is he really Shakespeare or was he Francis Bacon?", "Was his intent to dedicate his works to a man or a woman?", "What is the point of reading his sonnets if we cannot make sense of them or him?"

As poets we should know the plethora of reasons!

I chose to post this Sonnet, because it is lesser known. His most famous being Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? (Sonnet 18), and My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun(Sonnet 130). A few of the things that interest me about this sonnet are the personification of April as male (and what means socially and culturally of Shakespeare's day), the interesting word choices (keeping in mind that this sonnet was written at a time when the Modern English language was still in it's infancy),and the lovely color imagery throughout. The emotions in this sonnet are palpable, and there is a sadness that lingers at the finish. I adore this piece.



What are your thoughts on this sonnet? What is he expressing here? What are your thoughts on Shakespeare, his life, his talent? Please share any thoughts or insights you have on the man, and his works.

by A.M. Trumble


A lovely collection of Shakepeare's sonnets

I Wish I'd Written This

Have you ever read a poem and just wagged your head at wishing you had written that piece?  Happens to me all the time.  So, Robb said I could start sharing some of my favorite head-waggers with you all.  Feel free to comment on what you like (or don't like) about these poems (to be posted on Fridays).  I hope your heads wag as often as mine.

Since Sunday was Mother's Day in the U.S., how about we start off with my favorite Mama poem.

Mama's Promise

by Marilyn Nelson

I have no answer to the blank inequity

of a four-year-old dying of cancer.

I saw her on TV and wept

with my mouth full of meatloaf.

I constantly flash on disasters now;

red lights shout Warning. Danger.
everywhere I look.

I buckle him in, but what if a car

with a grille like a sharkbite

roared up out of the road?

I feed him square meals,

but what if the fist of his heart
should simply fall open?
I carried him safely
as long as I could,

but now he's a runaway

on the dangerous highway.
Warning. Danger.
I've started to pray.

But the dangerous highway
curves through blue evenings
when I hold his yielding hand
and snip his minuscule nails
with my vicious-looking scissors.
I carry him around
like an egg in a spoon,
and I remember a porcelain fawn,
a best friend's trust,
my broken faith in myself.
It's not my grace that keeps me erect
as the sidewalk clatters downhill
under my rollerskate wheels.

Sometimes I lie awake
troubled by this thought:
It's not so simple to give a child birth;
you also have to give it death,

the jealous fairy's christening gift.

I've always pictured my own death
as a closed door,
a black room,
a breathless leap from the mountaintop
with time to throw out my arms, lift my head,

and see, in the instant my heart stops,

a whole galaxy of blue.
I imagined I'd forget,
in the cessation of feeling,
while the guilt of my lifetime floated away
like a nylon nightgown,
and that I'd fall into clean, fresh forgiveness.

Ah, but the death I've given away
is more mine than the one I've kept:
from my hands the poisoned apple,
from my bow the mistletoe dart.

Then I think of Mama,
her bountiful breasts.
When I was a child, I really swear,
Mama's kisses could heal.
I remember her promise,
and whisper it over my sweet son's sleep:

     When you float to the bottom, child,
     like a mote down a sunbeam,
     you'll see me from a trillion miles away:
     my eyes looking up to you,
     my arms outstretched for you like night.

From Mama's Promises, published by Louisiana State University Press. Copyright © 1985 by Marilyn Nelson.

Click on the title to go to poets.org's posting of Mama's Promise.  Click on the poet's name to learn more about Marilyn Nelson.

The Thursday Think Tank - #48 Mirrors

Mirror mirror on the wall who is the… Oh sorry didn’t realize anyone was actually reading this. I promise I am not that conceited I was just trying to find a prompt this week for everyone. Luckily Madhumakhi sent me an email and suggested this one; mirrors. I thought it would be perfect for us to write about.

What do you think of when you see a mirror? Is it vanity or do you quickly fear breaking it and ending up with Seven years of bad luck? Me, I am a little more fantastical and imagine places in faraway lands with knights and maidens and dragons and…oh I’m slipping away again aren’t I? Let us just say that mirrors open up my imagination does it do the same to you?

This week before you sit down and attempt to write for this prompt step into your bathroom or look into your rear view maybe even pull out your compact and see what you first reflect upon (get it reflect? I know bad pun). But all kidding aside take a moment to look into a mirror. Do you see yourself or something else? Once you have done this write to your heart’s content. We hope this one really inspires you.

Once you have taken that trip into the looking glass and written about it please share it with us here so that we too can travel down that rabbit hole with you.

The Poetry Pantry Is Now Open! - #48

Happy Mother's Day!

The Poetry Pantry

2nd Chance Poems or 1st time shares

Anything goes!! All Poems, all Poets, All Week!!

Do you have a poem you would like to share? Something that you just felt inspired to write and want others to read. Perhaps it’s a poem that didn’t get as much exposure on your blog as you would have liked. Maybe it’s a poem that you wrote a long time ago that you would like people to revisit. That’s what this section of Poets United is for.

Each Sunday we start a new post with a New Mr. Linky for you. This is so that you can post a link to anything you want us to read, anything at all related to poetry or prose found on your own poetry blogs. It will remain open all week so that you can show us your writings and thoughts. You can post links weekly should you chose to do so. What poetry you put here is up to you so don't be afraid to share with us!!

You all are wonderful

This post is just a quick recognition to all those who have stepped up and volunteered to help with my last request. The response was awesome and you will have to allow me a few days to organize things and get back to each of you who have stated you wish to help in some way. There are not as many things to do as people who volunteered so I have to be as fair as and compromising as possible. It’s a little more important to ensure you all know what you are getting into because you will be given full access to the site and counted on to do things on your own without me. My ocd will have to take a backseat to progress and continuity.


Thank you all please know you are part of an amazing community here at Poets United and we can only hope to grow and get better.



Robert Lloyd.

Whew...Thanks and maybe a little help?

Only 286 more email to look at not counting the 211 of spam

Over the past several months I have struggled with my time and ability to give Poets United a decent and worthy amount of attention. If it wasn’t for the help of two very wonderful and supportive ladies this site could have very well failed. Mary Kling and Sherry Blue Sky have been working tirelessly behind the scenes here at Poets United to ensure an active Poets United for all of its members and readers. Both of these ladies deserve a bravo and pat on the back from us. I am so grateful for their willingness to step up. Thank you both very much!

I recently have not been able to add all the new members wanting to join but will make a point of doing that here today and in the near future. Do to my increased workload I am parceling out the responsibilities and days here at Poets United so if you have any interest in helping us manage the site please let us know by emailing us. Title it something simple like “I want to help”. There is no pay for this and the deadlines are fairly flexible. It’s strictly voluntary. Places that could use a volunteer are listed here:

Saturday – We would like someone to post a classic poem every Saturday. The rules are simple and you have a lot of freedom. We just would like a consistent poster.

Greeter/Welcomer – We need someone willing to welcome and add new members to our blog roll and list as they ask to be a part of us. They would also need to ensure that all blogs listed are active within the last 120 days (4 months).

Representative/Blog visitor – We need a few people willing to explore the blogs of our members and comment as a representative of Poets United ensuring we have a presence in the Poetry Blog community. With us being 250 plus strong it is hard to get out there and visit every blog to show our support.

We are also open to poetry related posts and ideas as long as they are not advertisement or self promoting. If you wish to write an article or highlight an important aspect of poetry or place in our community we can post those on Friday’s as that is our open date.

Any and all support is welcome but please only volunteer if you can afford to spend the time(at least 1 hour or so a week). We can give access and show you how to do it if you are unsure.

And one more time for good measure if you stumble across Mary Kling or Sherry Blue Sky throughout the blogosphere please thank them for a job well done in keeping Poets United afloat. They truly deserve it.  They are the reason we are still going!

The Thursday Think Tank - #47 Toes

I was recently sitting in my office starring at photo on my wall and it kind of inspired this week’s prompt. One of the very first “Couple” photos that my wife and I have of each other is just of our feet on the beach with water running over them. No faces or anything else, just her dainty digits and my hammer toes. It’s a fun photo to explain to our guests. That photo got me thinking about those oddly shaped and sometimes smelly little things called toes.

I was gonna generic the idea a bit and say pick any a place on the body and write about but I’ve backed away from that. Toes themselves can cover a wide ground of wonderfully penned stories and that’s what we will go with.

This week write something that has to do with toes. Maybe you recall the wrinkly feet of a new born or old man. Maybe the idea of being barefoot, toes wiggling in the sand leads you to freedom and vacation. It could also mean you were to poor to afford the socks or the best shoes. Those dang hand me downs were never fun and always two years out style. Maybe toes signal oppression and hatred. Whatever it is you are doing stop for a second and think of your toes. Take off your shoes and remove your socks and stare at those stubby little Frito smelling things. What’s the first thing you think of when you look at them? Have fun and write about it.

As always we look forward to reading what unique and inspiring poems our prompts may lead to. Every persons toes belong to a different story and we can’t wait to see the fun that wiggles out of your pen this week.

Life of a Poet ~ Shaista Tayabali

LIFE OF A POET – Shaista Tayabali
by Sherry Blue Sky

Over the course of the last year, I became aware of a radiant spirit, living “across the pond” in Cambridge, England, home of the newly married Royals. Shaista Tayabali, of Lupus In Flight,  has the kind of spirit I most admire, one that transcends difficulty in a way that inspires all who know her. Shaista has a severe form of Lupus, is often in pain, undergoing treatments, vision affected, confined to bed during the worst times. Yet her spirit soars in everything she writes. Visiting her site is like walking through a sunny field full of  beautiful blooms. She lifts the hearts of her visitors. We are privileged today to be sitting down with this wonderful young woman. If you haven’t come across her yet, be prepared to fall in love! Pour a cup of Earl Grey tea into a lovely thin, porcelain cup, because it is High Tea in Cambridge!



The Poetry Pantry Is Now Open - # 47

The Poetry Pantry

2nd Chance Poems or 1st time shares

Anything goes!! All Poems, all Poets, All Week!!

Do you have a poem you would like to share? Something that you just felt inspired to write and want others to read. Perhaps it’s a poem that didn’t get as much exposure on your blog as you would have liked. Maybe it’s a poem that you wrote a long time ago that you would like people to revisit. That’s what this section of Poets United is for.

Each Sunday we start a new post with a New Mr. Linky for you. This is so that you can post a link to anything you want us to read, anything at all related to poetry or prose found on your own poetry blogs. It will remain open all week so that you can show us your writings and thoughts. You can post links weekly should you chose to do so. What poetry you put here is up to you so don't be afraid to share with us!!