Massachusetts,

The trees somehow knew

They were needed this week,

The earth, jolted on its axis.

Quietly,

Splendidly,

Just showing up,

Bringing spring along.

 

Mail Call!

Now why on earth would I ever think about “borrowing” a mail truck? Head on over to Jama’s Alphabet Soup to find out. I’m delighted to be her guest today at the 2012 Poetry Potluck!

After the weekend’s Oscars hoopla, the red-carpet extravaganza, I’m thinking about this poem today: FAMOUS by Naomi Shihab Nye. I especially like its closing lines.

The river is famous to the fish.

The loud voice is famous to silence,
which knew it would inherit the earth
before anybody said so.

The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds
watching him from the birdhouse.

Read the whole poem here at the Poetry Foundation site.

Hope Is the Thing with Fur

This weekend, our family is expanding to include a Newfoundland puppy! Yes, a lot of work, having a puppy under our care. Yes, we’re already a plenty-busy household. And yes, don’t I have a manuscript I’m working on, plus freelance work, too? The way I see it, no better time to bring some good dog energy into the mix.

And Newfs are fabulous. Large and fabulous. Nana, the Darlings’ nurse in Peter Pan, was a Newf said to have been modeled on J.M. Barrie’s own Landseer, Luath (pictured here). Boatswain, a Newfoundland, was the beloved pet memorialized in Lord Byron’s “Epitaph to a Dog” (though I’d rather not talk about a dog’s death here). Emily Dickinson had a Newf named Carlo (named after the pointer of St. John Rivers in Jane Eyre). All of this said NOT to put any pressure on our sweet pup. We’ll enjoy her even if she’s more about slobber than writerly inspiration (though, hey, if she’s able to channel, I’m open to it).

I considered posting today a Carlo-inspired Emily Dickinson poem, so I did a little searching. Came across this classroom fun instead, from the Emily Dickinson Museum’s website: Carlo’s Poem Quiz, where students of poetry can read from Dickinson’s riddle poems and guess what she’s describing. You’ll also find links to Dickinson’s poetry and other Dickinson-related reading on the museum’s site as well. I, for one, would like to make the trip out to Amherst to visit sometime soon. I wonder if dogs are allowed?

By the way, looks like Saturday, Dec. 10, is an Emily Dickinson birthday celebration and museum fund-raiser at Amherst College, for anyone else who might be out that way. (Emily’s 181st birthday.) More info here.

This week’s Poetry Friday roundup is being hosted by Carol’s Corner. Wag on over!

Poetry Friday

With Britain’s Royal Wedding this morning (didn’t get too sucked in, but did watch some), I considered, for about a minute, the themes of matrimony or romantic love for my Poetry Friday post. But it was magnificent hats that I began thinking more about when I watched the TV coverage. Hats, and the gathering of crowds to celebrate. So here’s Edward Lear’s “The Quangle Wangle’s Hat.” The link to the full poem below also links to a biographical profile of Lear, which made me a little sad reading on this day of wedding hoopla—that he had the “fond affection” of many, yet “was never beloved in the intimate, exclusive, constant manner he so fervently desired.”

THE QUANGLE WANGLE’S HAT
by Edward Lear

I
On the top of the Crumpetty Tree
The Quangle Wangle sat,
But his face you could not see,
On account of his Beaver Hat.
For his Hat was a hundred and two feet wide,
With ribbons and bibbons on every side
And bells, and buttons, and loops, and lace,
So that nobody every could see the face
Of the Quangle Wangle Quee.

II
The Quangle Wangle said
To himself on the Crumpetty Tree, —
“Jam; and jelly; and bread;
“Are the best of food for me!
“But the longer I live on this Crumpetty Tree
“The plainer than ever it seems to me
“That very few people come this way
“And that life on the whole is far from gay!”
Said the Quangle Wangle Quee.

Read the whole poem at the Poetry Foundation’s site here. (When you’re there, click on the About This Poem tab to read more about  Edward Lear.)

Today’s Poetry Friday roundup is over at Tabatha Yeatts: The Opposite of Indifference. Go have a look.

Slicing and Dicing a Reverso

My daughter has some games on her iTouch that, typically, I couldn’t give a hoot about. In fact, I usually play the heavy when it comes to how much time is spent on electronic games. But when she invited me to try a game called Fruit Ninja the other day—and maybe it wasn’t so much the game, but that she invited me to play—I took a curious interest in this particular app. And then I got hooked on playing. It’s really kind of a silly game, where graphics of pineapples, coconuts, apples, watermelons and (bonus!) bananas float up and down on the screen. You get points when you swipe your finger across the images, as if you’re using a ninja sword, and cut the fruit in half before it falls out of sight. In the version we play, you have 60 seconds. You also have to try to avoid the bombs that get sent up in the mix of fruit (why bombs? why not, say, overly ripe fruit with worms or something?).

Whether it’s the up-and-down nature of the fruit images, or the fact that this is Poetry Month, with inspiration abounding regarding different poetic forms, I decided to take a stab (with my ninja sword) at a reverso. Marilyn Singer created this cool and challenging form, which is brilliantly featured in her book Mirror, Mirror: A Book of Reversible Verse (illustrated by Josee Massee). With a reverso, the poem is written to make sense when read from top to bottom, and from bottom to top, with the meaning or voice shifting when you read it the reverse way. For about a year, I’ve been thinking about trying one of these poems.

So here’s a first swipe:

Off in one minute!
Better things to do!
Seriously,
slicing and dicing
cartoon fruit on a touchscreen,
going after
a high score
when you could be celebrating
all this fresh air,
spring’s arrival …
Who needs
Fruit Ninja?

Fruit Ninja!
Who needs
spring’s arrival,
all this fresh air,
when you could be celebrating
a high score,
going after
cartoon fruit on a touchscreen,
slicing and dicing!
Seriously,
better things to do?
Off in one minute …

—by Martha Calderaro

Yeah, far from polished, but it’s been a fun puzzle today. (And I got a new high score in the process! Really, it was research.)

Happy Poetry Friday! For more poems and great conversation about poetry, check out the roundup over at Madigan Reads.

Image by fotolia.

Happy Poetry Month!

Another round of winter—an April Fool’s snowstorm. Got me noodling with a poem this morning, the idea of winter being like a tough gun-slinger that won’t ride out of town quietly despite the new sheriff’s (spring’s) arrival.

In the spirit of National Poetry Month, I’m sharing my poem in progress:

Was a blusterin’ howlin’, swaggerin’ scowlin’ son-of-a-gun
cold-hearted bastard blow-hard makin’ my run
merciless howler blusterer, layin’ it thick,
rackin’ up records, old dog with new tricks.

Comes along blithely
a greenhorn to town,
try to run me off sideways,
this right lightsome clown,
raising the colors like I weren’t around.

Be a furious, fear-whippin’ pain-in-your-hide.
When I leave this town is for me to decide.
I’ll not play the fool, or fade off politely
A rip-roarin’ hullabaloo is more likely.

My nature’s my nature, and lest you forget,
the name’s Old Man Winter. I’m certain we’ve met.

—by Martha Calderaro

For lots of great poetic inspiration, go check out the Poetry Friday roundup hosted today by Amy LV at The Poem Farm.