Musing On Poetry

 

Robert Frost and Emily Dickinson--Poets of Yesteryear

April is National Poetry Month, and I've been a bit remiss in not mentioning it until now. Tomorrow is National Put a Poem in Your Pocket Day. Every year, we hear people moan and groan about poetry. I've heard comments like Not for me! Who reads poetry? And why? I just don't get poetry. Too highbrow for me. High School made me dislike poetry--all that memorizing!

A lot more people would enjoy poetry if they gave it a chance. If they would read it without a preconceived notion that they are not going to like it. Will you like every poem you read? Of course not. You don't like every story or essay you read. Certain parts of all writing appeals to us, or it doesn't. Please don't make a statement saying you don't like poetry until you do a little exploration and give it a chance. 

The Huh? Factor:  There are poems that make sense only to the poet. When we were in high school, we were required to read a certain amount of poetry and tear it apart bit by bit until we understood what the poet was telling us. It didn't always work, did it? I remember reading a poetry assignment, deciding what it was about, and then having the teacher go a completely opposite direction the next day. Many times.

Over the years, I grew to like reading and writing poetry as did many others. There is beauty in the words. In the thoughts of a poet. In the poems that have become beloved over many years. Poets like the two shown here today will be remembered for the poems they wrote that appealed to readers. They, and other poets, wrote about nature and love and sorrow and so many more areas of life. 

What kind of poetry do you like? Sonnets, Asian forms, rhyming, narrative, free verse, acrostic, or some other? There are complicated forms and very simple ones. I've never had any training in writing poetry so I stay with the simple kinds. I can write free verse, a rhyming poem, a narrative, but that's about it for me. I know poets who write all kinds of more complicated forms. Know and also admire them.

My state writing organization sponsors an annual writing contest in Prose and Poetry. The Poetry category has several subsections to enter. There are many poetry contests which can be found using your favorite search engine online. 

Some poets write in hopes of publication, preferably paid publication, while others write poetry only for themselves and perhaps a small group of family and friends. Either way is fine. It's your choice. 

Before you write poetry, read it. Read a lot of it. Don't read only the famous poets, but also lesser known names. I could list several here whose names I know because I have read their work, but you may never have heard of them. Search for poetry collections in bookstores and at your local library. When you read a poetry collection, it is not necessary to read cover to cover all at once. Read it that way if you like, opr read in bits and pieces. Go back and read the ones that appeal the most to you.

That brings me to another thought. Reading a poem once and moving on doesn't allow you to absorb the message or the beauty or the thought behind the poem. Read a poem several times. The more you read, the more you see, the more you understand, and maybe the more you like it. 

If you're not familiar with the two poets I have named here today. Do a little research on each one, and read some of their poetry. Then try to find the works of more modern poets like Maya Angelou or Amanda Gorman, the young poet who read her work at our last presidential inauguration. 

Put a little poetry in your life. Poetry is feelings put into words. Read it. Write it. Enjoy it.Tomorrow, you might even want to put a poem in your pocket along with myriad numbers of people.

Try Reading a Poet's Collection of Poems

 

Today, I am reposting a 2017 book review of a collection of poems by Ronda Miller. Ronda is a Kansas poet whose work I much admire. Many poets publish books of their poems, often with a theme to the entire group. I have several poetry collection books like this. They can be read time and again, enjoyed with each new reading. 

The next time you are in a bookshop, hie yourself to the poetry section and spend some time browsing. Treat yourself to a purchase. Or spend a little time in the poetry section of your local library. Check our a few and immerse yourself into the world of the poet who produced the book. Check the online suggestions at the end of my review to purchase Ronda Miller's poetry book.

Here is my earlier review of "Water Signs" by Ronda Miller. The collection was published in 2017 but still popular today.

Ronda Miller's latest book of Poetry has recently been released. WaterSigns follows an earlier success titled Moonstain, a book I read multiple times and thoroughly enjoyed. So, I looked forward to swimming my way through WaterSigns, poem by poem. I was not disappointed. In fact, just the opposite.

In the foreword of the book, Ronda Miller says "...emotion flows like water," and I found it to also be true that her poems have a flowing trait to them. They move fluidly, line by line, bringing the reader much to digest and like. 

A mystery writer, Louise Penny, wrote a piece of dialogue spoken by a poet that I have thought of often. It came to me again when reading WaterSigns. The old poet in the book says "Poetry begins with a lump in the throat."  Many of Ronda Miller's poems must have begun that way. More than one brought a lump to the throat to this reader, as well. 

The book is divided into sections, each one headed by a very fine black and white photograph by Crystal Socha.  Sections are titled Aquifer, Confluence, Raindrops, Mirage and Reservoir. Each section is filled with poems about nature, people and life as seen through the eyes and memories of the poet. She intertwines the high plains of her childhood and memories with raw emotion. Her poems give a sense of place, are visual and filled with sensory details. They are sometimes touching, sometimes surprising but always from the poet's heart.

To conclude the foreword of her book, Ronda Miller says "I don't write poems, they right me." 

I especially liked a poem about her grandmother's glasses and one that shows Grandmother standing against the wind. In "Harvest," we see a hired man who is kind to children but has another side, as well. One titled "In Japan" made me laugh and "The One" wrought sympathy from me. Ronda Miller bares her soul in these and other poems. 

WaterSigns can be ordered from Meadowlark Books with free shipping through July 2017.  Or order WaterSigns at Amazon or Barnes and Noble. Kansas readers can find the book at The Raven Bookstore in Lawrence and at Ellen Plumb's City Bookstore in Emporia.

- July 16, 2017  

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Thoughts on Poetry During National Poetry Month

 

This is a repeat post from 2015 to give some more thought to National Poetry Month of April 2021. 

It's National Poetry month. This time of celebrating poetry and poets rolls around every April and I am always happy to recognize it. So many people shy away from both reading and writing poetry. It's a shame as there is pleasure in doing both. 

One of the things I particularly like about a book of poetry is that it's not a one-time read like many novels. Instead, leave it on your bedside table or by your favorite chair and pick it up now and then and read the book again. I find more in a poem every time I read it. 

The reason I asked my poet friend, Roy Beckemeyer, to do a few guest posts here is to stir up some interest in reading, and writing, poetry. Roy writes wonderful poetry and he's a fine teacher for the uninitiated, as well. 

I have featured a poem from another poet friend, Ronda Miller, in an earlier post. I must ask Ronda to consider doing a guest post here, too. Her poem, Moonstain, left a deep impression on me.

Many years ago, when I was in college, I helped in a fifth grade class in a campus lab elementary school as part of my Junior Partiicpation requirement. The classroom teacher gave me some responsibilites with the class and graded me on how I performed. In November, she told me I would be taking over the Language Arts class for a few days and she suggested I work with the students in some creative writing aimed at the Thanksgiving holiday. The writer in me came to the surface, even though I wasn't writing at the time. We wrote a class poem about Thanksgivng. The kids moved from Oh no! to That was fun. I wish I had saved the poem but I didn't. I had no idea in 1959 that I'd like to have it in hand when writing a blog. more than 50 years later! I didn't know a lot about poetry but I winged it and the project turned out well.

It's the same now. I've never had formal training in writing poetry--have never taken a class. But I've read a few articles and books on the subject and I've tried my hand at writing poems. Some of the results were pretty awful but some turned out quite alright.

Anyone can write a poem that comes from the heart. It may not be perfect in a professional poet's view, but if it pleases you, so be it. For the beginning poet, free verse seems to work best. I don't try most of the many forms of poetry because I don't know enough about them, but free verse is one I can tackle and I bet you can, too.

This is a poem I wrote after I accidentally knocked one of my husband's pottery collection pots off a pedestal. I felt bad that it had happened and the poem came from that. I rather liked it and enterd it in my state authors annual contest. The judge wrote notes all over the paper that had me mystified at first, then sent me into laughter. She thought that the pot signified my marriage, that I was getting a divorce and/or the victime of spousal abuse. Believe me, nothing is farther from the truth but it shows how some interpret the poetry they read. Here's the poem. See if you can figure out how she came to that conclusion. So many poems are metaphorical and she must have been thinking on those lines. This one was just plain fact!

                                                                             Shattered

His treasured pot—art piece

                                                             bought in a gallery on a

                                                             warm winter day in Texas,

                                                            one more for his growing collection--

                                                           now in shards, the tall pedestal on

                                                          which it posed still teetering,

                                                         while my heart stops, then beats,

                                                        erratic but pumping life’s blood.

                                                        I kneel and gather the small pieces,

                                                       place them inside one larger chunk,

                                                      still rocking after its shattering fall.

                                                      A sob catches in my throat.

                                                      I barely brushed the pedestal with the

                                                     empty laundry basket in my hand,

                                                     an accident. Will he forgive me?

                                                     Nearly five decades together, so

                                                     he surely loves me more than this

                                                    one hand-done piece. He has others.

                                                  I want to remind him that he

                                                 once broke my favorite crystal pitcher,

                                                 Waterford that is made no more.

                                                 I want to bring it up, but I won’t.

                                                I will say I’m sorry, and be sincere,

                                               and he will forgive, but will he forget?

                                               My hand slides across the pedestal’s cold

                                               marble top. What will rest there next?

                                                                            ---Nancy Julien Kopp 2011

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April is National Poetry Month

 

April is National Poetry Month. It is hoped that bringing this form of writing to the forefront will encourage both the reading and writing of poetry among students and adults. 

All too often, we hear comments like 'poetry? not my thing' or 'I hated memorizing poetry in school.' or 'I never could understand poetry.' On the other side are readers who make comments like 'I love the beauty of words strung together in a poem.' or 'Poetry soothes my soul.' or 'The beauty of a poem stays with me.'

Just as in prose, poems are not all lumped into one category. They come in an infinite variety. We start out with nursery rhymes that are the sing-song kind of poems children love. Grade school students are exposed to poetry in readers and children's magazines. High School students read poetry within their English classes, and if they have the right kind of teacher, may grow to enjoy it. If all they do is memorize and have the teacher interpret the poem for them as a totally different entity than what they thought they read, it's going to be a black mark against this art form for those students. 

There are wide choices in the kinds of poems we read. They range from humorous to tragic to love poems to ones about nature to short haiku or other Japanese forms. There are rhyming poems and those that do not follow a specific rhyme or rhythm. You have a whole world of poetry to choose from in your reading. There are even prose poems--ones written in paragraph form.

Many poets today publish a book of their poems, usually rather short in length and often based on a particular theme, or just a collection of poems they have written over the years. I often purchase ones published by poets I know, and I have never been disappointed. 

Writing poetry is something anyone can try. You do not have to have studied it in college or a master's program. Anyone can put words together in poetic form. I have never had any formal training in writing poetry, but I gave it a try and found I liked writing poems. Are they magnificent? No. Do they satisfy me? Yes. Have any ever been published or won a contest? Yes. Do I write complicated forms of poetry? No. 

Several members of my online writing group are poets. I have enjoyed the poems they submit for critique, and I have learned a lot by reading the critiques other writers have made. And I have critiqued many of them myself. 

We do more than enjoy reading poetry. We learn as well.

During this national celebration month, give some thought to reading and/or writing poetry. Here is one by one of my favorite poets--Emily Dickinson,

April is National Poetry Month

You knew I couldn't let this month slip by without recognizing National Poetry Month. Many people turn their nose up at the thought of reading poetry or even attempting to write it. Others find it soothing, fulfilling, and delightful.

We've been noting it every April since 1996 when the Academy of American Poets organized the celebration to help Americans be more aware of and appreciate poetry. 

Our first introduction to poetry came in the form of the nursery rhymes that parents read to and taught to their small children. Children are attracted to the sing-song rhythm of those rhymes. They ended up in picture books as well as told. They were short and easy to memorize. The history of those rhymes is not as directed to little ones but often depicted political thoughts of the times. Imagine writing a few rhymes about our politics today. Might be pretty stormy. 

When we were in the early grades at school, the teacher read poems about the falling leaves, or springtime, or clouds and other simple subjects. The early readers occasionally had short poems as did the magazines for children. They still do. 

By the time we got to high school, poetry was not much fun anymore. Mostly because we had to do two things--memorize and figure out what it was about. Neither one was much fun. I think it would have been better if the high school teachers had let the students read and enjoy a poem, then perhaps point out the beauty of the words and phrases instead of asking "What did Keats mean when he wrote....?" I've always felt that we don't necessarily know what the poet was referring to, why he/she wrote or what they really meant when they used metaphors that felt like a blank wall to a high school student. I also didn't care a twit about meter and rhyme and whether it was a sonnet or something else when I was a teen-ager.

So, it is little wonder that many people were turned off by poetry. Even so, others enjoyed it and continued reading and also writing it which is what has kept it alive today. I developed a love for reading poetry even though I didn't always understand it. The more I read, the more it appealed to me. Even now, I don't always 'get' what the poet is trying to tell me. But that's alright. I love the flow of the words, the rhythm, the lilt, the images the words bring to me and the thoughts within the poem. 

What do you especially like or dislike about poetry? If you have not liked it in the past, why not give it another try? As we mature, we see many things in a different light. 

Tomorrow's post will deal with writing poetry.

Poetry--Read It, Write It, Love It

Today is the last day of National Poetry. I used this poster early in the month to make readers aware of what we are celebrating all this month. So, it seemed appropriate to repeat it as we finish this time of recognizing, reading and writing poetry. 

It doesn't mean we should ignore the other eleven months of the year. Certainly not. Instead, it is hoped that the month of giving attention to poems and poets will inspire others to both read and write poetry. 

Do you have a favorite poet? Is it someone from ancient days or a contemporary? A person you know? Or just a poet you admire? 

I have several friends who write and publish poetry. I admire these people as they have no fear of releasing their innermost thoughts and feelings through their writing. They have a desire to share with others, and we readers are often the better for it. I have purchased the books listed below and have read them all more than once. Do read a poem multiple times. So much more comes through the second, third and fourth time. 

Books of poetry by people I know. Find some of them on Amazon. 

Moonstain by Ronda Miller

Music I Once Could Dance To by Roy J. Beckemeyer

Asparagus Roots by Jane Banning

Today, Fish Only by Miho Kinnas

The Museum Muse by Tom Mach

Stage Whispers by Roy J. Beckemeyer

So Runs The Water by Tom Mach

What do you notice about the titles? Each one piques interest; leaves a question or makes you a bit curious. It must be difficult to title a collection of poems. Some poets will use the title of one poem in the book. Others will use the title of a theme that runs through the many poems in the book. The next time you're in a bookstore, go to the poetry section and read the titles. Do some stand out for you more than others? Are there some that you want to remove from the shelf and leaf through? 

Have you ever read or heard a prose writer praised with a comment like His prose reads like poetry? A high honor indeed. 

We say farewell to National Poetry Month today, but I hope that you will make time to read or write some poetry the rest of the year, too. 

The Many Sides of Poetry

Nursery rhymes were our earliest exposure to poetry. Mothers and fathers have repeated them so often that children soon learn to say them, too. Mother Goose books are almost a must for every small child. Many of the rhymes have been set to music so we sing them as well as recite.

Children get a little older, go to school and learn rhymes to recite when jumping rope. It was mostly a girls' activity, so I'm guessing it's my women readers who can bring several to mind. Here's one we used often:

Down in the valley,

Where the green grass grows.

There sat Nancy 

Sweet as a rose

Along came Michael

And kissed her on the cheek.

How many kisses

Did she get? 

(And next, I would have to jump until I missed while the other girls counted)

Still in grade school, we moved on to rhymes to sign other girls' autograph books.  Ones like:

You are

 2 good

2 be true

(Then we signed our name beneath the rhyme)

All of these 'poems' had one thing in common. They rhymed. Besides that, the poems had a rhythm, almost sing-song for some. There have even been drinking rhymes composed, with mug in hand, most likely. 

We studied poetry in junior and senior high school. They were longer and somewhat difficult to interpret, but most of them rhymed. Unless you were an English major and took more than the basic English courses, you probably didn't become familiar with free verse or the Japanese forms either. 

My favorite poetry to write is free verse. There needs to be no rhyme or specific rhythm. You're free to write what is in your heart, what you want to tell the world. You're not hampered by all the other specifics. It's the kind of poetry all of us can write. Yes, you too. 

Even in free verse, we have some concerns. Choice of words is important. Active verbs show while passive ones do not. We also consider things like alliteration, onomatopoeia, and senses to bring the poem to life. Similes and metaphors enter the picture, too. 

If you're a prose writer, have you attempted to write free verse poetry? Give it a try. It's not that difficult, and you might find you enjoy it. I learned that the more I wrote, the more I wanted to keep going. You don't need formal training (although I'm sure it helps) to write free verse. I say that from my own experience.

During this National Poetry Month, think about the place poetry has played in your life, from early childhood on. If you're one who claims you 'don't like poetry,' make an effort to read some this month, reading with an open mind. No one is going to like all poetry, just as no one likes every kind of prose. We try this and that until we find what we like. 

I saw a sign in a gift shop once that amused me. It said:  Wine is poetry in a bottle. That probably appeals only to those who sip wine now and then.

Thoughts On Poetry

The quote above is something actor, Robin Williams, said as John Keating in the film Dead Poets Society. The 1989 movie is about an English professor reaching out to his students. There were many worthwhile quotes in the movie. The one posted here today is one that stood out for lots of those who watched the movie.

When you read a quote, do read it more than once. Do the same when you read a poem. You see so much more the second time and the third and the fourth. One of the fine points of reading a book of poems is that you can read it multiple times and glean something new at each successive reading.

When you watch a movie for the second or third time, you notice small details that you had not taken note of on the initial viewing. It's the same with reading poetry.

This is National Poetry Month. Take some time to read some poems. Reread some of your favorites, or pick up something new to you. If you've never been a person who reads poetry, try it. I don't mean to skim through a book of poetry or a website with numerous poems featured. Instead, take your time and read it. Let the words reach you emotionally.

Read it slowly; then read it again. Does the poem affect you in any way? Does it bring visual images to mind? Do you see beauty in the way it flows? Is it strong? Does it bring out any emotion in you? Do you see the way the poet uses words to reach the reader?

If you write prose, have you ever attempted to write a poem? Do you need to take numerous courses to write a poem? No. Studying poetry can only be helpful, but it is not a necessity to taking pen in hand, or putting fingers to keyboard, to write one. Don't be overly concerned about the meter, rhythm or rhyme. Start with free verse. Prose writers can spread their wings and give poetry a try.

For me, the main ingredient of writing poetry is that you write from your heart. You release what is within. Have you ever witnessed a part of nature that is so beautiful you wish you could paint it? Or write a poem? Many have, but few act upon it. When the moment is gone, they move on to other things in life. I have learned to do something about it when I see anything that affects me and makes me want to write a poem. It might only be the first two to four lines that I write on a scrap of paper, but I've got it and can continue later. Reading those first lines brings back whatever it was I had witnessed and allows me to continue writing.

Have you ever had a vivid dream that might prompt a poem? I have. I had been to a poetry presentation at a writer's conference weeks earlier. The woman who spoke mentioned dreams being a good source for poets. She said The important thing is to act on it as soon as you wake up before the dream is lost. One night I dreamed about old gypsy women on a train. They were sewing and little gypsy girls were dancing in the aisles. I couldn't imagine what prompted the dream in the first place, but I got up, grabbed a robe and went straight to my computer. I already had the first two lines in my head. I wrote them and the rest flowed, line upon line. The poem has been published more than once, and it was used as a prompt for an abstract artist in Kansas City. I have no formal training in writing poetry, so, if I can do it, so can you. The poem, which turned out to be about aging, is below with a photo of the painting. I have used the poem before to illustrate a point, so some of you may have read it already.

play, gypsy girl, play

passengers on a train, gypsies
going nowhere; wheels kiss tracks
like passion-driven teens
as gypsy women dip needle and thread
into cheap and flimsy fabric,
fashion bits and pieces to sell.
pricked fingers bleed onto gingham
and voile, spit wipes it clean again.

little girls wear blue eye shadow,
swing immature hips and mimic
older sisters, thumb their nose at
mothers, aunties, and grans. too soon
they will sew, wiping blood spots
away but for now, let them frolic,
midnight eyes glittering with
mischief. too soon cares settle
on shoulders like a burlap shawl,
not noticed until the years pull it tight,
captive in a smothering embrace.

play, gypsy girl, play for the years
roll quickly by; shake your tawny locks,
clap your jeweled hands, twirl until your
skirt billows round umber knees,
laugh and sing, before the heavy mantle
of womanhood crushes girlish patter,
cares and woes etch themselves in
deep ridges on cheek and chin, shoulders curl
onto sagging breasts, veins make maps of legs,
thinning tresses turn to silver, eyes dull from anger
or sometimes fear, gaps where teeth
once looked like pearls on a string.

weathered faces watch young girls dance, needles
never still, minds spiraling backward. play,
gypsy girl, play before the years sit like a rock
on your heart. the train speeds
whistle whining, as gypsy women sew
and little girls see only tonight.

Painting by Jennifer Rivera and my poem at the Art Gallery in St. Joseph, MO

One More Way To Celebrate National Poetry Month

National Poetry Month is coming to a close in only a few days. The quote above is from the1989 movie Dead Poet's Society starring Robin Williams as a teacher at a boys' prep school. His subject is poetry. Read a review here. There are several places where you can find the movie online. Use your favorite search engine if you would like to view the film for the first time, or perhaps see it once again. 

I think a teacher has a lot to do with our love or dislike of poetry. Note that I chose not to use the word hate, although there are probably plenty of high school students who might select that word over dislike. I must admit that I was not overly enthralled with poetry in high school. I didn't dislike it nor did I go ga-ga over it. There were some poems we read that I liked better than others. And yes, we did have to memorize some of them. I especially remember committing these poems to memory: 

• Sea Fever by John Masefield
• Portia's mercy speech in The Merchant of Venice by Shakespeare
• The Destruction of Sennacharib by Lord Byron

Thinking back, I memorized all three poems in Sophomore English. I do not remember the teacher's name but I can visualize her--a 60ish, strait-laced, severe hairstyle, no make-up, no-nonsense woman who rarely smiled. I must commend her for introducing me to poetry that stayed with me all these years. No, I could not recite each of them from memory now but I do remember the opening lines of each one. She apparently did something in her teaching of this poetry that spoke to me and, hopefully, to many other students. 

Another poem I remember from that class is The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. It's a very lengthy narrative poem but one verse has always stayed with me: 

Water, water, every where, 

And all the boards did shrink; 

Water, water, every where, 

Nor any drop to drink. 

Here's a way you can celebrate National Poetry Month--take a little time to look up some of the poems you read and maybe memorized in high school and college to find out if you can approach them from an adult perspective. What may have seemed just alright years ago could speak volumes to you today. Some of us have the attitude of who cares about those old poems and old poets? It's possible that these poems and poets have lasted through the years for good reason. 

I have enjoyed many contemporary poets but I still love those of old, as well. Ones that come to mind are Emily Dickinson, Sara Teasdale, Both Brownings, Robert Frost and many more. Who are your favorites? 

A Fitting Finish To National Poetry Month

Tomorrow is National Poem in Your Pocket Day and a fitting finish to National Poetry month it is. I hope that many classroom teachers across our nation will plan for and celebrate the day with their students. If they don't, they are passing up a golden opportunity to teach children that poetry can be fun. 

If you're not familiar with this day, read about it at the Academy of Poets website. The gist of it is that we should each select a poem, copy it, fold and put in your pocket on April 30th. If you have the opportunity to pull it out and read it to someone during the day, so much the better. Not everyone would have the courage to do that. 

Stop and think about it. If I went to the butcher case at my grocery store and, before I ordered the meat, I pulled out my poem and asked the butcher if I might read it to him, he might be polite enough to nod his assent but he might also think What kind of a wacko is she? Or, suppose you stopped to pick up a prescritpion at your pharmacy and you inquired of the pharmicist May I read a poem to you for Poem in your Pocket Day? If there wasn't a line of people waiting, he might agree. Maybe he, too, likes poetry, and it would make his day. Or he might politely tell you that he really didn't have time as others are waiting. So, choose your person, place and time wisely. It could be someone in your own family--a poem over cereal and toast early in the morning perhaps.

Of the millions of poems in our world, what one will you choose to put in your pocket tomorrow? A limerick? A haiku? A sonnet? A lengthy free verse? A poem from a long-ago poet or one who writes today? A nursery rhyme? A narrative tale poem? We all have our favorite poets and favorite poems. No, I retract that--all those who enjoy poetry have their favorites. 

Only people who like poetry will participate in Poem in your Pocket Day. Even if you don't copy a poem and put in your pocket or read it to someone tomorrow, you might think about a favorite poem. Maybe it's even one you've written yourself. 

One point about poetry was brought home to me only last night. A poet friend in my online wrirter's group has a new poem published at a sci-fi website. She had read it to those attending the conference this month that I had to miss. The webiste showed only the Table of Contents so I commented that I'd like to see the poem, too. She kndly sent it to me last evening. I  read it before closing down the computer for the night. I read it twice more this morning. The more I read, the more I saw in the poem and the better I liked it. So, don't read a poem once and move on. Give it a second and third read. I can almost guarantee that you'll enjoy it more with each reading. 

I'm writing about tomorrow's celebration today so that you will have time to prepare.

I read several poems this mornng at a poetry site while considering what to write on the blog today. Here's one I know I first read in high school. I think I appreciate it far more today than way back then. It's a very familiar poem--simple yet visual and thought-provoking and written by a famed poet. 

STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING

Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here 

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer 

To stop without a farmhouse near 

Between the woods and frozen lake 

The darkest evening of the year. 

He gives his harness bells a shake 

To ask if there is some mistake. 

The only other sound’s the sweep 

Of easy wind and downy flake. 

The woods are lovely, dark and deep. 

But I have promises to keep, 

And miles to go before I sleep, 

And miles to go before I sleep.

Celebrate Poetry This Month!

It's National Poetry month. This time of celebrating poetry and poets rolls around every April and I am always happy to recognize it. So many people shy away from both reading and writing poetry. It's a shame as there is pleasure in doing both. 

One of the things I particularly like about a book of poetry is that it's not a one-time read like many novels. Instead, leave it on your bedside table or by your favorite chair and pick it up now and then and read the book again. I find more in a poem every time I read it. 

The reason I asked my poet friend, Roy Beckemeyer, to do a few guest posts here is to stir up some interest in reading, and writing, poetry. Roy writes wonderful poetry and he's a fine teacher for the uninitiated, as well. 

I have featured a poem from another poet friend, Ronda Miller, in an earlier post. I must ask Ronda to consider doing a guest post here, too. Her poem, Moonstain, left a deep impression on me.

Many years ago, when I was in college, I helped in a fifth grade class in a campus lab elementary school as part of my Junior Partiicpation requirement. The classroom teacher gave me some responsibilites with the class and graded me on how I performed. In November, she told me I would be taking over the Language Arts class for a few days and she suggested I work with the students in some creative writing aimed at the Thanksgiving holiday. The writer in me came to the surface, even though I wasn't writing at the time. We wrote a class poem about Thanksgivng. The kids moved from Oh no! to That was fun. I wish I had saved the poem but I didn't. I had no idea in 1959 that I'd like to have it in hand when writing a blog. more than 50 years later! I didn't know a lot about poetry but I winged it and the project turned out well.

It's the same now. I've never had formal training in writing poetry--have never taken a class. But I've read a few articles and books on the subject and I've tried my hand at writing poems. Some of the results were pretty awful but some turned out quite alright.

Anyone can write a poem that comes from the heart. It may not be perfect in a professional poet's view, but if it pleases you, so be it. For the beginning poet, free verse seems to work best. I don't try most of the many forms of poetry because I don't know enough about them, but free verse is one I can tackle and I bet you can, too.

This is a poem I wrote after I accidentally knocked one of my husband's pottery collection pots off a pedestal. I felt bad that it had happened and the poem came from that. I rather liked it and enterd it in my state authors annual contest. The judge wrote notes all over the paper that had me mystified at first, then sent me into laughter. She thought that the pot signified my marriage, that I was getting a divorce and/or the victime of spousal abuse. Believe me, nothing is farther from the truth but it shows how some interpret the poetry they read. Here's the poem. See if you can figure out how she came to that conclusion. So many poems are metaphorical and she must have been thinking on those lines. This one was just plain fact!

 Shattered

                                                His treasured pot—art piece

                                                bought in a gallery on a

                                                warm winter day in Texas,

                                                one more for his growing collection--

                                                now in shards, the tall pedestal on

                                                which it posed still teetering,

                                                while my heart stops, then beats,

                                                erratic but pumping life’s blood.

                                                I kneel and gather the small pieces,

                                                place them inside one larger chunk,

                                                still rocking after its shattering fall.

                                                A sob catches in my throat.

                                                I barely brushed the pedestal with the

                                                empty laundry basket in my hand,

                                                an accident. Will he forgive me?

                                                Nearly five decades together, so

                                                he surely loves me more than this

                                                one hand-done piece. He has others.

                                               I want to remind him that he

                                               once broke my favorite crystal pitcher,

                                              Waterford that is made no more.

                                              I want to bring it up, but I won’t.

                                              I will say I’m sorry, and be sincere,

                                              and he will forgive, but will he forget?

                                             My hand slides across the pedestal’s cold

                                              marble top. What will rest there next?

                                                                            ---Nancy Julien Kopp 2011

Ever Think About Writing a Book of Poems?

Nattional Poetry Month is nearly over. This morning, I learned that a poet in my state writers organization has a book of poetry soon to be released. I'm looking forward to reading it for one reason. Roy J. Beckemeyer is one fine poet.

He's started a blog about the process of writing a book of poetry. I hope to follow it as Roy guides us through the steps taken to do this. His blog can be found here.  He's only posted twice, two consecutive Sundays, so I'm guessing it's gonna be a Sunday kind of thing.

Poets can assemble a book of their poems in different ways. There might be a theme of some kind--transportation, childhood, coming of age, job-related, love, tragedy--any number of choices. Or, it could be just a crazy quilt assembly with the theme coming through in each section rather than the entire book.

If the poet is prolific and has hundreds of poems to choose from, how in the world does he/she do it? I think all writers have their own favorites and those are the ones that will be selected. The ones that shine through the stacks of poems written over years.

Have you ever thought of putting a book of poems together? Do you have enough poems in your files to make up a full book? Poetry books are often short so perhaps you do. Here's a book with blank pages for you to get inspired.