Here we are...

...a group of Baby Boomers of sundry religious,
political and cultural orientations, who have been
meeting at the Voorheesville Public Library since 1991
to read and discuss each other's poems.

We include old fathers and young grandmothers,
artists and musicians, and run-of-the-mill eccentrics.
Writers are welcome to stop in and stay if they like us.

Some of Us

Some of Us
Dennis Sullivan, Beverly Osborne, Tom Corrado, Edie Abrams, Art Willis, Alan Casline (all seated); Paul Amidon, Mike Burke, Tim Verhaegen, Mark O'Brien, Barbara Vink, Philomena Moriarty

Friday, January 11, 2008

the Bronx is up and the Battery's down

This line from Tom's poem has been running through my head all night - he looked it up for me. It came from the musical (Broadway and MGM film in the 40s) On the Town. Uncle Miltie, now there was a comedian, comic, comedian, comic! Great lines throughout, beginning with the title: Trying to Find My Own Easter Eggs.

Dennis visited his parents' graves, picked out a final spot for himself and realized the value of not being nameless. One of my favorites from the evening.

Tim's poem split the group into those who liked and didn't like the last half, each side equally vehement. I was with the second group, loved the description of the sea, sandpipers, the playing with thoughts of death, but not the little kid out swimming After Midnight.

No criticism for Philomena, with her St. Anthony theory (he was the patron saint of lost things).

I had radical suggestions for Beverly about rearranging her stanzas and tightening up her fear-of -driving-in-winter work. Lots of good material there, but a little prose-y, I thought.

Paul, Paul, we all loved Paul, revving his motorcycle through the halls of his high school. No one believes it was some other guy.

Alan produced another sea winner, Morning on York Harbor Shore (including photos). There was some debate about the inclusion of other writer's quotes within the body of your own work.
Appropos of what I can't remember, but Alan spilled out a quotable line: "The mark of a true civilization is to have a few bad habits and to cultivate them. " I hope I got that right.

I must confess, Mr. Willis' poem totally baffled me because I had no clue who Giambattista Vico was. Art informed me that "all of social science was founded by" this Italian Rennaissance guy. I know nothing.

Personally, I am worried about Mr. Burke who seems to be overly absorbed with the techniques of pouring Guiness Draft, altho the resultant work was pretty funny.

Mark called his work a transcription of the Galway Kinnell's video Tom had sent us all and had some fun with language. "Those who want to read, read" and "Those who want to write, write". Hit home here. I am reading.

We welcomed back Catherine Norr who has been on hiatus from us and came in with a poem that was clear, concise and well liked. BTW, we may have a couple of new people at the next meeting (I received emails from interested people) so we might have to rethink our time considerations again. Of course, if I don't write anymore, that saves us a little time.

A couple of people had singing lines in their poems. Perhaps we should work on a musical.
See you all at Alan's on the 19th. I will try to post some photos later today.

I am closing with Edie's poem from last night.

David, on Micki's Death

God expelled some arctic air
and extinguished a sparkle

Steeled in his cadet-gray
he stood rigid as a general
only his earmuffs betrayed him

Faltering, she strew some soil
on her daughter's coffin
muffled sobs sprinkled the crowd

David braced her feeble arm
withdrew to his rooted spot
arms strained by his side

Funny, at that moment I noticed
how handsome David is.

Edie Abrams
December 19, 2007

1 comment:

  1. Anonymous1/11/2008

    The arrival of new people, or even all the old people at once, at a meeting is no excuse for the Blogenmeister to stop writing poems. You can deep six that idea.
    One additional thought...My impeccable reputation could decline if people persist in insisting that "Schoolyard Bet" poem is about me. I am completely, totally, and absolutely innocent. I'm just the poet. I didn't ride that bike. I wasn't anywhere near the place at the time! Thank you, good poets all.