tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54230097490471128242024-03-14T10:20:48.570-05:00thursday poets titlebr>
are<br> a group of Baby Boomers of sundry religious, political and cultural orientations,<br> who have been meeting at the Voorheesville Public Library since 1991<br> to read and discuss each other's poems. <br>We include old fathers and young grandmothers,
artists and musicians, and run-of-the-mill eccentrics. <br>Writers are welcome to stop in and stay if they like us.
(photo Jan 08)Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger203125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-32474281164759134862011-06-24T10:50:00.003-05:002011-06-24T11:03:11.804-05:00I have had continual problems with logging in and editing this blog for several weeks. I think the problem has finally been resolved thanks to computer guru Judie. <br /><br />Last night it was just me 'n' the guys. Mr. Williams and the Shadow-Poet were on time (noteworthy). Alan was quite poetic and kicked off quite a discussion of what wives and husbands talk about. The family silver? If you are a gay guy, Tim insists you talk silver.<br /><br />Tim came with a bully/strawberry milkshake story which we gave him some critique about. Very little, tho, as it was already good. Dan "held wide the door" to new experiences with a patriotic sounding verse.<br /><br />Paul was caught in the garden of good and evil and Larry had already made his leap. Mike took a little more controversy than usual describing a rainy bike ride for missing children. Mike was great, btw, at his Social Justice feature and dinner at El Loco. Turns out not to be my fav restaurant, but nobody complained. Good poems.<br /><br />Poemless, me.<br /><br />Only news is Sunday Four this week with Dale Hobson.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-12859188776232160672011-06-10T09:48:00.002-05:002011-06-10T10:10:35.673-05:00riding unharmed, and untouched, toward death (Carver)Tim entertained us all again with <strong>The Champions</strong>. Hilarious and very Tim. Tom suggested axing (at least part of) the last paragraph as too philosophical. We seemed to be philosophical quite often last night, perhaps LRapant is influencing us all (the philosophy emails have been flying fast and furious).<br /><br />Edie inspired quite a discussion with <strong>Poor Yorick</strong>, a tongue-twister whose title seemed misleading. Paul recollected one of the moments in his life that haunted him in <strong>One Ghost </strong>and Edie told a holocaust story it reminded her of.<br /><br />I amused myself drawing hats on Catherine's hat and hatless poem which had a great bald thought. Obee took us down the rabbit hole with a clever mind poem written in mirror form. Tim found it romantic.<br /><br />Edie nominated Alan's line for best line of the evening: "way above, way way above". Alan was spontaneous. Larry was extremely effective with a story poem about a teen/teacher affair. The Shadow Poet emerged in <strong>In Search of the Magical Other,</strong> a lecture-like reflection on loss and love by Jim.<br /><br />Tom is back, prompting me to search out more Raymond Carver, thank you.<br /><br />Philomena and I were poemless. Plans talked about for dinner next Thursday prior to the Beach Boy's appearance at the Social Justice Center.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-5312612707295344172011-06-03T09:45:00.003-05:002011-06-03T10:32:48.856-05:00Late AgainI had more problems with the blog last week and took a while to resolve them with the help of the VPL computer guru Judie. Now I have half forgotten the last meeting and don't much feel like writing about it, so I will be very brief. We started out small but ended up with ten people as others straggled in. Dan was the very latest and we were unable to squeeze his poem in because we had been indulging in extra conversation. That, btw, is okay with me. Our conversations are invigorating and on topic (poetry) even if we wander away from the poem on the table. <br /><br />I will mention that Tim brought a (very) short prose piece which he had asked me about ahead of time. I have no problem with short prose; in fact, it was standard procedure when the group began a million years ago that writers could bring anything they had written, subject only to length limits. Larry's work tonight also bordered on prose, although we all seemed to dislike it, making LR happy. <br /><br />I feel that I should mention Mark's garage door photos, which I personally loved, along with the poem. Very creative example of Mark's abundant talents.<br /><br />If there was anything else, I've forgotten.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-59696435472053073082011-05-19T10:35:00.001-05:002011-05-19T10:37:20.929-05:00They said there would be cakeI think that is why my soul said yes<br />to this life<br />that and banana cream pie<br /><br />but the heaven realm<br />couldn’t capture<br />the promise of flesh<br /><br />and some times<br />I am up to my neck<br />in this muddy life<br /><br />having insisted on the outdoor barbeque<br />despite predictions <br />of pouring rain<br /><br />desire and misery<br />is a finely mixed<br />recipe<br />-Philomena Moriarty<br /><br />Perhaps this is the best poem Philomena ever wrote. <br />Perhaps it is my favorite.<br /><br />Perhaps I should follow my own principle of never reworking.<br />I tried to fix last week’s poem. Now I hate it. <br />Perhaps I am just feeling hateful today.<br /><br />Jim skittled in late wearing a very attractive red ref shirt, poem in hand. Another exploration – a pantoum, a poetic form which first appeared in 15th century Malayan literature in which lines b and d become lines a and c in subsequent verses. Jim’s consisted of very clever rhymes. <br /><br />Jim slipped me a copy of another poem I had requested: Tercet Eight: Shadow-Poet <br />Arriving like the waterless flood/having fewer neurons than he’d like/shadow-poet knows the secret of the universe. The rude one is only one of many/ who populate my ego, my subconscious/a rowdy group of feisty complexes who try to run my life. My dogged efforts to tame this lot/are endless, ongoing…<br /><br />Like this, too.<br /><br />Ally the birthday cat was present with a well-titled work called Old Haunts. We had a few suggestions for ways for her to clarify the action in it, particularly identification of the people mentioned. It was a little confusing as written.<br /><br />Alan seemed determined to cram every fact he could into his biographical poem about Albert Andriessen Bratt, the sawyer from Norway who arrived in Fort Orange in 1637. Bratt was an interesting character, but I think we all agreed that there were too many dates included. Alan’s best line (again which I loved and want for my own): “glitches and gremlins did the guy in” That’s how I want to go.<br /><br />Larry wrote a long conversation with Tanya the Check-out Girl. Not a lot of commenting (that’s okay).<br />I am finding Larry’s artwork wonderful, creative and weird. (He doesn’t mind if I say that). Don’t miss seeing it for a reflection on Larry. It will be up through the end of May.<br /><br />Burke was back for his first meeting since November. His bi-annual poem was about a poor dead guy named Dave, or rather, Dave’s funeral. We didn’t like the line about the shaky old preacher and made a couple of other suggestions. <br /><br />Paul‘s retired musical instruments brought about a discussion of melancholia vs. nostalgia vs. plain old sad. Poem was “pretty complete” except for title. Perhaps “Notes on Notes”?<br /><br />Dan’s poem was very aptly titled A Tyrant’s Regrets and went on in that vein. Dan empathized thoroughly with the tyrant and Cathy wittily commented that what he described could be attributed to mothers as well. <br /><br />Sorry this took so long to blog. The blog was inaccessible last week and then I got busy.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-77008547785958458802011-04-29T07:58:00.006-05:002011-04-29T08:51:54.349-05:00There is so much piano in my stomachI gotta say that there were no "beyond good" poems in attendance tonight. There were eight of us here and everyone seemed to bring more of a work in progress than a finished piece. <br /><br />Dan did bring a finished piece which kicked off quite a discussion of where do old poems go? Do they end up in the "dead leaf basket"? Do they lurk in chapbooks to be discovered in 22nd century France? Does anyone care about them besides the author? Dan effectively accomplished his stated purpose of hitting a responsive chord in the reader. BTW, Alan liked the concept of addressing the readers within the verse which I do not like but didn't get a chance say so because everyone was talking so much.<br /><br />Someone opined that Alan's <em>Poetry Contest - Smitty's Tavern</em> was mis-titled because the poem did not actually mention anything about the contest, but was written in the tavern parking lot. Philomena (I think) mentioned that Alan likes "nesting" his poems one within the other which leads to our frequent comment that he is really combining two separate poems into one. I had no idea who Ken Warren and Jack Clarke are until Obie explained it. I thought they were mathemeticians. Wrong.<br /><br />Obie decided not to read his poetry at all, but contributed a photo synopsis of a hiking adventure with Casline and Corrado.<br /><br />Larry produced my best line of the evening - see title of blog - in a long poem tha began delightfully with: <em>this poem is about me, it will be boring at times.</em> I would like to write a poem that begins that way.<br /><br />My poem was inspired by a novel and then a non-fiction book I read about a reform school for boys in Marianna, Florida. It was a house of horrors for those committed there from 1900 through the 2000's. There was some controversy over my line about "too sassy for our own britches", which is an accurate Southernism I remember from my Tennessee roots. It is a poem I may re-work a little.<br /><br />(Some of) my ignorance was revealed in Paul's poem <em>Pinewood Derby</em>, which I thought meant soapbox derby. Wrong again. Whoever heard of boys racing 5-oz. wooden cars that they had made on their kitchen tables? Not me. The poem was a commentary on competitive fathers who can't let go.<br /><br />Jim wandered in late in his referee's uniform, with a beautiful bald head and a buzzing cellphone. His poem was a psalm to nematodes and other garden dwellers.<br /><br />Following Philomena's instructions I will not blog about her poem.<br /><br />Edie was in the building but never made it into the meeting so I'm not counting her.<br /><br />Alan was promoting the Delmar Writers Showcase at Pine Hollow on April 29 (today).<br /><br />If you get a chance, be SURE to stop in and view Larry the Artist Rapant's exhibit which will be hanging in the VPL gallery for the month of May. I am looking forward to something strange and engaging.<br /><br />PS - Vainly I am posting a new picture of me which, while it does not totally eliminate my double chin, disguises it somewhat.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-1372077376249127982011-04-29T07:53:00.000-05:002011-04-29T07:54:32.695-05:00A Little from Langston HughesDaybreak in Alabama<br /><br />When I get to be a composer<br />I'm gonna write me some music about<br />Daybreak in Alabama<br />And I'm gonna put the purtiest songs in it<br />Rising out of the ground like a swamp mist<br />And falling out of heaven like soft dew.<br />I'm gonna put some tall tall trees in it<br />And the scent of pine needles<br />And the smell of red clay after rain<br />And long red necks<br />And poppy colored faces<br />And big brown arms<br />And the field daisy eyes<br />Of black and white black white black people<br />And I'm gonna put white hands<br />And black hands and brown and yellow hands<br />And red clay earth hands in it<br />Touching everybody with kind fingers<br />And touching each other natural as dew<br />In that dawn of music when I<br />Get to be a composer<br />And write about daybreak<br />In Alabama.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-33069686595718473972011-04-19T08:56:00.003-05:002011-04-19T10:05:05.215-05:00April 14 (late)Two newcomers entered the lair last week. Laurie from Guilderland brought no poem but was a good contributor to the discussions. Stephen from Schoharie confessed that he was a psychologist, which was also good because we probably all need one: hope he comes back. Stephen reappeared at the contest on Sunday with what appears to be his specialty - a Japanese Haibun (a paragraph of prose ending with a haiku)- about a red-tailed hawk.<br /><br />I will be brief as I am already way late in bloging this meeting, but I don't want to skip it because we had some beyond good poems. Judge Amidon brought a bit of a tearjerker (for me at least) about missing Thanksgiving dinner with the old folks. Obeeduid's was dedicated to Tom Corrado who was not here to listen. I have posted his accompanying, exquisite photo to the right. <br /><br />Dan Lawlor (who surprised me by saying he joined the group 7 seven years ago) told a story of the nightingale called <em>Lotus Dreams</em>. Alan was good with a philosophical number called <em>Turn Turn Turn Again,</em> which I wanted to make into two poems, or at least two parts.<br /><br />Cathy Anderson had a real winner recounting the empty chairs in her life. Very effective. Ann followed her food motif with a nostalgic effort about making babka. Note: she did not bring any. Tim, who has been very excited about his writing workshop with Marion Roach Smith, brought a "prome" rewrite about his brother who wouldn't die. Larry's <em>love songs in a dentist office </em>had some powerful lines (I loved "realizing you're hearing canaries because you're sitting on one".)<br /><br />It seems like I have forgotten someone, but...? <br />Me last. Larry remarked on the "vivid details" in my recitation of a Florida night interrupted by an old man on a bicycle. <br /><br />"Nature is always clothed with the color of the spirit" - EmersonUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-51155123768261629062011-04-19T08:32:00.002-05:002011-04-19T08:36:12.516-05:00Contest Recap from Judge AmidonSECOND ANNUAL SMITH’S TAVERN POET LAUREATE CONTEST<br /><br /> The Second Annual is now in the record books, and the books will show that Howard Kogan is the Tavern’s Poet Laureate for 2011, with Marilyn Paarlberg second and Mark “Obeeduid” O’Brien third. Therese Broderick placed fourth and Tom Corrado fifth. No one ran away with the scoring. As with last year, competitors in the top half of the scoring were within a few points of the poet just above them and the one just below them. This comes as no surprise, as everyone who signed up to participate belonged in the contest. No also-ran type poets entered the fray. Another thing that was obvious was the reading talent displayed at the microphone. Every reader did a good job, and most did an excellent job. It was a pleasure to attend this contest and listen. <br /><br /> Now that two of these “Annuals” have been held, a few observations can be made. One is that the format and operation of this event is good, and any tinkering with the rules and procedures should be minimal. This is a well-thought-out contest. Second is that it’s about the right size, both in the length of time it takes and the number of contestants allowed. Third is that it attracts the type of poets the sponsors and hosts want to attract. It is not a contest for flash-in-the-pan poets, or for showboaters whose chief interest is to draw attention to themselves through crude work and onstage antics. Fourth is an observation everyone made last year: Smith’s Tavern is a great place to hold a poetry contest. Why go dry and hungry for poetry when you can drink and eat at the same high level the poems are? It’s a no-brainer. <br /><br /> When a contest flows smooth as glass from beginning to end it’s because the organizers anticipated problems and solved them, then did a good job directing the actual competition. Judges had all the time they needed, and there was no dead time between poets thanks to a steady stream of poetic quotations to guess at from Edie at the microphone. The Second Annual was as good as the first. It has put Smith’s Tavern on the map for poets beyond Voorheesville and Delmar, and has cemented its reputation as the place to meet for local poets.<br /><br /> A Japanese saying is: “If a thing happens twice, it will happen again.” It comes to mind because I hope it comes true at Smith’s Tavern, next April.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-77915590491014319912011-03-30T22:24:00.002-05:002011-03-30T22:31:17.550-05:00Tinian, Afghanistan, and Poets on the RunLet’s face it; some nights just don’t have it. The discussion is insipid, laced with uninspired observations, statements of the obvious, boring conversations filled with irrelevancies. This wasn’t one of those nights. Opinions and observations rolled around the table like loose cannons on deck, and the nimble of foot and word had no time or inclination to yawn.<br /> <br />Dennis got things off to a fast and interesting start with “A Visit From the Dead,” a two and a half page piece that held everyone’s attention and sparked a good deal of discussion. Tim and Philomena both felt the poem should be read more slowly than it was to give the reader time to assimilate what it has to say. While Philomena said she sees Dennis’ poems as mystical, Tim said they seem more religious (in a general way) than mystical, and felt this poem “has tiredness and contentment in it.” My own feeling was that it is a musing on life, and projects a feeling of acceptance. Larry started chasing down a tangent about the nature of the mind vs. the nature of the soul, and a few others helped out. Larry’s statement that “Dennis has a style that grates against my inner joints” didn’t reflect my opinion, as nobody’s style has yet had any effect on my inner or outer joints. Dennis told us he felt his parents had entered the room when he wrote the poem, which would have inspired something in my mind if it happened to me. I can’t really say, though, as my parents have never showed up at any hour, but then again I’ve never been up at 3:27 AM to write anything.<br /> <br />Dan gave us “The Butterfly Lovers,” a work that prompted Tim to say it struck him as the type of poem that would be written by somebody who has lived a long time. I took that to mean someone who has gained much wisdom by living a long time, as opposed to some old goat who has lapsed into senility but refuses to quit writing. The poem is a brief summary of a 17th Chinese legend. Knowledge of the legend would help the reader fully understand the poem, and when Dan related the legend we found out that “The Butterfly Lovers” is a good summary of the legend, but by adding a few more lines he can make it an even better summary. Only the word “chums” didn’t quite fit.<br /> <br />I presented “Hospital Waiting Room” and got several good suggestions for improving it, but once again came away with the feeling that when my poem hits the table people start trying to pick off all the individual words they can, like snipers firing from a tree line. This tendency may have something to do with Tim’s statement that “Paul applies prose rules to poetry,” which is true in more instances with my writing than with the writing of most other poets around here. I’m also a big fan of punctuation, which a good number of poets avoid, even run from. However, I left convinced that a couple of words need picking off in this poem. <br /> <br />Jim’s “Tercet Eight: Shadow-Poet” was well received, and prompted Tim to remark: “I love this. A very human poem.” Which it is. I see this as a poem of self-analysis. Edie pointed out it that has similarities to Dennis’ poem. The “rude one” mentioned in the second verse needs more than a reference, though, and whoever he is we need to hear something defining about him, as it is certain he is not the shadow-poet. Not withstanding that the rowdy group of complexes have the math guy’s number, I personally am confident that the math guy will rout this group of ne’er-do-wells in the end.<br /> <br />Larry brought “Ontology,” a poem one-fourth the size of what he brought the last time. When I opined that it seemed too short to be one of Larry’s poems, the author let slip that it is part of “a much, much longer poem.” Short though it was, it still backed up Larry’s admission that “Minutiae is one of my favorite things.” (Shouldn’t that be ARE SOME of my favorite things?) Anyway, as Philomena said: “This is a fun poem.” The dark knight calculator mentioned in the second verse was the subject of some discussion involving Batman, the dark part of our own natures, and a few other things that sailed right past me. Larry surprised me when he declared ”The dark knight is making too much of a controversy, so I’m taking it out.” I’d leave it in, myself. Dennis thought the poem was “Blakean.” Look it up. I’m not opening that keg of worms.<br /> <br />Philomena’s “Schenpa” was based too much on Buddhism for me to understand it, and a knowledge of Buddhism is probably essential for anyone reading this piece. A sizeable footnote to shed some light on the meaning of the word “schenpa” led me to conclude this is a personal poem not meant to communicate with a large audience. <br /> <br />Ann presented “The Thank You Notes,” a poem about her father receiving thank-you notes from her eighth grade class for his military service during World War II that really appealed to me. It will be even better when the use of tenses is ironed out, and some confusion about exactly who is talking to whom and what is going on at the end is cleared up. Relating some additional information in the poem should do the job. This poem really had an effect on Tim, who effortlessly jumped from Tinian in World War II to Afghanistan today. By the time he finished alternately attacking the poem then praising it, I didn’t know if he was speaking from the strength of his convictions or just trying to keep the dust stirred up. This has the potential to be one of Ann’s best, in my opinion. I hope it turns out that way.<br /> <br />Tim’s “Washington Park 2 AM” used the dialogue of one person to paint an effective and dramatic picture of an encounter that resulted in two gay men being chased by a pack of other men intent on doing them no good. This is another of Tim’s poems that will be a hit at open mics, as it is a performance piece for sure. There is no ambiguity in this work, and few comments were made about either the form or wording. I consider it one of Tim’s best. Dennis noted, “You have the same rhythms as Gregory Corso and Allen Ginsberg.” <br /> <br />Last up was Edie, who offered “Gifts From My Father.” By beginning with a reference to the inheritance of unruly hair from her father, she glides into a musing on some of her father’s traits and their influence on her. Verse one and three handle this very nicely, but verse two seems to have no apparent connection to the other two. Maybe it does, but I don’t see it, and no one offered any explanation that helped me see the connection. Verse one and three stand as a poem by themselves, though. I’d like to see verse two elaborate on either her father’s characteristics or her relationship with her father instead of doing whatever it did.<br /> <br />ONE OTHER THING: The Second Annual Smith’s Tavern Poet Laureate Contest is coming up on April 17, and there are still places open on the competitor list. Sign up soon if you’re interested, as the sign up period will end soon no matter how many slots remain unfilled. <br /> <br /><em>Write-up by Paul </em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-13999495008848454172011-03-11T10:09:00.004-05:002011-03-11T11:17:15.665-05:00Hiroshima, a unit of measurePhilomena knocked us out with the impact of her title (above). Edie suggested that line was a poem in itself and so strong that it overwhelmed the rest of the poem.<br /><br />Edie's poem was a very sensual offering loaded with assonance and alliteration. "I spoon with you and down your spine my finger slithers..." Minor controversy arose of the use of the word fluffy which, to me and Philomena at least, stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb.<br /><br />Mark impressed with "Grateful for the small acts of morning", a slow and gentle read which interestingly was interpreted by the rest of us in quite differing ways. Mine was way off base (but amusing), perhaps inspired by Edie's sex poem.<br /><br />Alan was artistic - "everyday you bring out your brush and swirl the surface about" -and spare with his words - "no message message I get the message" and thought -provoking - "is there a judge in the front of this prison?" Good one.<br /><br />The artistic streak carried through Tim's descriptive rather than narrative endeavor. I must admit to finding it intriguing, but hard to sort out (one woman or two? downtrodden and walking the beach or drinking on the porch?) It also included a missing lake discovered and a posing herring which turned out to be a heron. It did read like a canvas, but I remain confused. Who shoots herring anyway - or herons?<br /><br />Fortunately we rely on Paul for a dependably relate-able poem and he came through again. Who hasn't flattened a penny on a railroad track? Well, maybe not Edie. The rest of us all related and I vow to do it again this summer if summer ever comes.<br /><br />Welcome back, Lawlor - Dan returned from his "weathered wanderings" with a musical poem about leaving memories, loaded (by his own admittance) with cliches. Mark performed an excellent third read of the rhythmical though not rhyming Yeats-referenced work. <br /><br />Okay - Larry: A long dense poem on <strong><em>my neo-empty period </em></strong>which I had the privilege to read. It was fun, a bit of a tongue twister in spots. Some lines less effective than others, could be cut for the sake of lightening it, but the poem was well-received the way it was. I love: "I nibble the piece of cake on all sides trying to keep its shape as it shrinks"<br /><br />Dan W. brought to my attention the fact that I frequently mention those who are missing from meetings, as well as attendees. I guess this is fostered by my now-thwarted maternal instincts. If some of the chicks are not around, I need to know where they are. In that vein I will report that Ally Cat Anderson is in Texas, Beach Boy Burke back in Florida, Tom C. in the wilderness of Huntersland, Jim Williams and Ann Lapinski, whereabouts unknown, and Dennis sent his excuses. That reminds me that I will be absent for the next meeting on the 24th as I am planning to be sunbathing on Bradenton Beach. Someone else (and all are fighting for this opportunity) will be in charge.<br /><br />Remember to sign up on March 21 for the Poet Laureate contest (Tim and Paul and I are all judges). Alan's field trip is this weekend. Call him for details. BTW, if anyone cares, we are discontinuing discussion night for lack of participation. Larry and I will be planning more exclusive trysts.<br /><br />The evening included an enthusiastic exchange of info on Spanish Bar Cake between Mark and me. Anyone else remember Spanish Bar Cake?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-8943108363016881982011-03-02T11:25:00.000-05:002011-03-02T11:26:22.169-05:00Smith's Tavern Contest RulesSMITH’S TAVERN SECOND ANNUAL POET LAUREATE CONTEST<br /><br />WHEN<br />Sunday, April 17, 2011 at NOON sharp<br /><br />WHERE<br />Smith’s Tavern, 112 Maple Avenue, Voorheesville, NY 12186; Tel: 518-765-4163<br /><br />CASH PRIZES<br />Poet Laureate - $100 <br />Second Place - $50 <br />Honorable Mention - $25<br />(Names to be inscribed on Laureate trophy displayed in Smith’s Tavern)<br /><br />TERMS<br />Open to the first 25 poets who register by emailing <dsullivan6@nycap.rr.com> starting noon March 21st. E-mail must be from registering poet only. Applicants will be notified of acceptance by March 28.<br /><br />THREE ROUNDS<br />Each poet will read three poems (one per round) of 25, 35, 45 (or fewer) lines respectively, the title of the poem not being counted.<br />Poets will read the title of the poem followed by the body without introductory remarks, and only once.<br />Poets must bring five hardcopies of each poem to the contest to be handed in to Laureate Coordinator, Michael Burke, at time of registration.<br />The poems for all three rounds must have lines visibly and neatly numbered in the margin for easy identification, and name at top, before they will be accepted.<br /><br />DAY’S SCHEDULE<br />Starting Time: Noon sharp (The tavern will be open at 11:15 with all poets expected by 11:30).<br />Reading order: Poets will be randomly assigned positions beforehand by round; sheets with the assigned positions will be distributed to poets at time of registration.<br />Two opening rounds—followed by a 40-minute break—then the Final Round<br />There will be a brief (30-second) break between readers to allow the next reader to settle in<br />Prizes will be awarded immediately following the scoring of the final round<br /><br />JUDGING BASED ON FOUR CRITERIA (1-5 POINTS FOR EACH POEM IN EACH ROUND)<br />1. PRESENTATION—Poem is clear and understandable with good rhythm and flow; conveys awareness <br />2. MECHANICS—Uses metaphor and imagery well; exhibits concision and wholeness; has good sound <br />3. DEPTH OF FEELING—Is unique, creative, passionate, inspirational, fresh, and thoughtful<br />4. OVERALL IMPACT—Is engaging, interesting, stimulating, captivating, compelling<br /><br />ALTERNATES<br />There will be no alternates allowed should any of the registered poets fail to show. <br /><br />TIES<br />In the event of a tie, the judges’ scores with the lowest total score for each tied poet will be dropped. This will be done until the tie is broken. More on that the day of the event.<br /><br />LAUREATE AS JUDGE<br />The Laureate for each year will be invited to serve as a judge for the following year’s contest but acceptance of the invitation is optional.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-33780919447229634232011-02-25T11:05:00.006-05:002011-02-25T11:52:47.501-05:00Black Tree TangoThe above phrase caused many poets much conflict last night in my work, which was nothing more than a descriptive passage of the sight of a forest of bare trees dancing in the wind. The trees were bumping hips and elbows and shouting "tequila". I thought it was quite clever. Oh, well.<br /><br />The night's masterpiece clearly flowed from Tim's pen (figuratively speaking). I had the privilege of doing the second read and, while I was being dramatically affected by the content, the rest of the group was in stitches. I guess you could say it was both moving and hilarious in a sad way. It is called <em>Nightmare on State Street </em>and anyone who missed it should ask for a reading. Definitely a performance piece, possibly to be performed at Sunday Four.<br /><br />Edie's <em>Eye of a Camera</em> was talked about at length. Edie offered us alternative endings to the comparison of a photograph and a poem, both as art forms. Lots of opinion on this one.<br /><br />Larry brought us a trilogy of poems, loosely linked in theme (sex, of course). Jim asked if we knew why Bach had so many children (23?) and no one did, although I can't tell you the answer here. Back to Larry's main poem: we labeled it powerful and true. Good one. And...Lar was wearing beautiful bandaids.<br /><br />That math man assaulted our senses again with a mathematical poem: <em>Cinquain A Cinq,</em> written in five, five-line stanzas with matching number of syllables per line. Each stanza was planned to act as a stand-alone poem, and it all reflected JW's black humor.<br /><br />Paul's nicely crafted poem delivered its strong, clear message as usual. The topic was friendship: "Sunlight, twilight, rain: no matter: I am in for the long haul." Good sentiment, good poem, although I wanted to chuck the "among tears" phrase that Paul refused to part with. He did vow to take another suggestion about line breaks.<br /><br />Philomena has been talking to her dead brother, which is not as bizarre as it sounds. Her poem was quite touching. Tim was vehement in his assertion that one would not mourn for someone they had not been close to in life, but I understood it perfectly. One would, perhaps, mourn harder.<br /><br />I passed around a copy of the Smith's Tavern PL Contest chapbook. Mike Burke did a great job of compiling and getting it published. Thanks so much to Missing Mike and Distributing Dennis. Copies are available for purchase someplace. Maybe Book House. Check with Dennis who was not there last night. <br /><br />I am having grandchildren visit this weekend but will see you at Sunday Four to hear Joe Krausman, if possible.<br /><br />PS - Alan, I have Rootdrinker dues for you!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-54177625872772917652011-02-11T09:11:00.007-05:002011-02-11T10:42:27.250-05:00glad for the stink of itCASLINE'S ARTISTIC MUSE TRIUMPHS: The Bird's artistic muse fought it out with his scientific muse and won. The result was an inspired work called <em>Invoking</em> which included lines such as "blindness occurs when you are shown everything" and "glad for life, glad for the stink of it". We approved.<br /><br />If the stink line qalified for best line of the night, I'm voting for Tim's <em>Your Eyes </em>for best poem. For me, it edged out a field of extremely good ones because of its intensity, the passion, the sadness and loss that was so apparent in it.<br /><br />Alan's muses were not the only ones at odds at this meeting. Several minor controversies arose, one revolving around Tim's use of "supposively" which Mark looked up and found in the Urban Dictionary on his ever-ready iPad. I enjoy made up words and will advocate for them except in situations where they appear to be simply grammatical errors, as this appeared to be.<br /><br />Interestingly, the word "litanize" is also not in the dictionary (at least not in the Merriam Webster's I looked at) but it certainly sounded like a legitimate word and it was obvious to all of us what Dennis meant in his psalm <em>I Am Moved To Litanize</em>. Dennis the criminal justice professor revealed a momentuous decision he had recently made regarding his belief in the afterlife (reference <em>The Will to Believe</em> by Will James). <br /><br />I was also thinking of the afterlife in a roundabout way as I described <em>The Beast</em> that is consuming all of us "one finger, one toe at a time". Not a lot of critique. Some quibbled with my making the beast male. Seemed logical to me.<br /><br />Markle and I crossed swords over the composition of Ann's <em>The Magnolia</em>. It was back to the old issue of line breaks and breathing. I thought they were poorly executed in this work, but Obee defended them heatedly. The flowing poem was a nice breakthrough for Ann, who has previously been more reserved and structured in her expression.<br /><br />Mark himself had a good one about listening to the sound of the Oniskethau creek which runs by his house. There was quite a discussion over whether or not streams "burble" in the winter, but the poem was concise and clear painted a perfect picture of the mountain shadow, full moon, and snowy landscape.<br /><br />Alan remarked that there was no narrative in Paul's <em>The Silver Lining,</em> a "fantastic" poem (Tim) more conceptual and zen than his story poems. I accused Larry of channeling Tom in his war-is-interrupted-by-jelly-donuts work. Someone pointed out how acidic and bitter it was, making Larry happy. <br /><br />Jim Williams impressed us anew with his guitar playing and the unusual instrument he was toting (we all smelled it). Beautiful. Beautiful. And it was good to see Jim.<br /><br />I MISSED COLDFEST. Cathy and I chickened out because of the freezing rain. I understand a lovely time was had by all and I had to eat my appetizer for dinner that night, and for about three days following.<br /><br />Which reminds me, I heard from Mike Burke, who is presently in sunny Mexico and not coming home anytime soon.<br /><br />Afterthought: I have been investigating <em>The Poets Laureate Anthology</em>, a new library book which includes all of the American PLs ever (since its inception in 1937) with short bios and samples of work. Foreward by Billy Collins. Worth a look.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-80878279489292054342011-01-28T10:25:00.005-05:002011-01-28T11:01:03.510-05:00The Geography Kingturned out to be Alan who triumphed in the face of opposition from Cathy and myself. Who knows where the Sandwich Islands are? He did and I'm not saying more except that I was wrong. If you don't know the answer and you care, you can look it up, which Mark did on his iPad to settle the argument. <br /><br />Yes, we had a cameo appearance by Cathy Anderson, who has been among the missing for a while. She had a lovely poem about sleeping memories (see the epigraph to the right) which I found very sad. It was actually very similar to the brief poem I brought, written at the last minute for the occasion because I was feeling guilty for not writing lately. Anyway, my poem, called <em>Eavesdropping,</em> reflected my feeling of isolation when I become aware of the life that is going on around and without me. Pretty much of a bummer.<br /><br />Larry's work was a bit of a conundrum to me this week. I couldn't get a clear picture of what he was trying to convey. Some great lines, but not a lot of comment. BTW, "smithereens" according to the dictionary can only be used as a plural noun meaning bits or fragments. There is no smithereen.<br /><br />Perhaps I was particularly obtuse last night, but I also had trouble with Alan's <em>Echoes Going By,</em> which the author said he wrote in a parking lot by a railroad track in Maine while waiting for his shopping wife. It was one of his hexagrams (#12) relating to the I Ching, which I don't know much about. I don't seem to know much of anything today, do I? I do know "The little gate opens from the dragon garden".<br /><br />Markle had a good one in <em>How the sky was emptied,</em> complete with beautiful photo. In an interesting experiement we re-read the poem a total of 5 times, experimenting with lines and breathing and pace. It was a poem expressing excitement - the anticipation of capturing the sun in hand, which exuded a feeling of calm. Strange.<br /><br />Paul's poem <em>North Star</em> was the impetus for the island argument, mentioning the Solomon Islands as a port of call for his uncle Ezekiel who spent his life roaming the seas. One island led to another somehow. Anyway, it was a beautifully framed poem which the group had a lot of suggestions for, taking out unessential words or lines, perhaps changing title.<br /><br />Lastly, we were practically stunned by the bearded visage of (the ghost of?) Tom Corrado. Then, he blew us all away with a rendition of his new chapbook "A History of the World in Four-Line Feeds: Part 18". Excellent, excellent.<br /><br />Reminder of: COLDFEST at Alan's February 5 at 3 p.m. and Discussion night here on February 3 at 7.<br /><br />According to an email from Beach Boy Burke, the anthology of Smith's Tavern poems is almost ready for distribution. Next Poet Laureate contest date was changed to April 17.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-51171064549958919282011-01-14T10:01:00.003-05:002011-01-14T13:08:25.404-05:00Cookie InterruptusThe following was written by our scribe, who filled in for me last night and, obviously, ate my share of the cookies. It is a good post. Thanks Paul.<br /><br />NINE POETS ON A COLD NIGHT<br /><br />Nine poets. A good number to kick around any poem that dared show its face. No surprise that that’s exactly what happened.<br /><br />The first sacrificial offering of the evening was “Three of Seven Exterior Plates on Gundestrup Cauldron,” which consisted of a detailed description of three parts of a silver cauldron found in a peat bog and dated to 100 B.C. Alan covered the territory as far as description was concerned, but mentioned nothing else. For that he drew fire from several fronts because the critics were looking for more. Larry pointed out the poem did not indicate the significance of the details described. Mark felt the description did not take him anywhere, and asked: “What is the poetic journey?” Ann and Tim agreed. I did too, and felt it read like prose. Alan’s intent, however, was not to take the reader anywhere, but to describe without interpreting. He succeeded in what he wanted to do. He wanted to find out how much energy the poem would raise in a critique group, and he succeeded in that too. He found out that the group had enough energy to make it clear they wanted more than he served up. <br /><br />Mark’s poem “Susurrations” sent Dennis to his Spanish dictionary to see what he could find out about the title. A Spanish word quite close to Mark’s title had the same meaning: a whisper. Alan noted that the poem compared nature to nature through the use of metaphor, a quality he liked. Larry jumped on the third verse as describing something that is impossible (seeing tears on one’s own cheeks). Tim whittled the last line off three of the verses. Mark described the poem as “me talking to me,” which was of some help.<br /><br />Dennis brought a ten-verse poem longer than most of his others, loaded with good images and food for thought, titled “Ten Thoughts About the Eternity of Day.” Alan commented that it was a great poem, with a lot of Dennis Sullivan in it. Tim felt it was a strong poem, and that the details that tripped him up didn’t matter. He also pointed out how the listeners benefited from having the standard second reading. I won’t include it here, but the sixth verse was considered to be the best, and it was a good one indeed. One part puzzled me, however. The lines “get rid of no, except to turn down second helpings of turkey breast and forced sex” had me wondering. Is a first helping of forced sex all right? I would have mentioned it, but I was too busy eating one of the superb chocolate cookies that Ann brought. Anyone who passed up the cookie box, you blew it. They were great.<br /><br />Larry gave us “Love,” a piece characterized by his usual style of including cryptic lines that are sure-fire discussion starters. Tim tossed out the idea that the title seemed like a tack-on because the author couldn’t come up with anything else. Some lines were unclear, but different lines were unclear to different critics. Alan didn’t favor a line about a bodily function, but let’s face it, body parts and bodily functions appear in so many of Larry’s poems that we can’t reasonably expect him to give them up now. We can, I suppose, but it isn’t likely to happen. By way of commentary, Larry said he was trying to show some of the many things we think of as love.<br /><br />My poem “Statue of Liberty” generated more discussion than I thought it would. Alan and Tim both thought a lot could be cut from it, as the story has been extensively written about. A poem must stand on its own, though, and cutting because the subject has been extensively written about assumes readers will know what is not stated. Older readers might, but a lot of young people are far enough removed from those who immigrated to America a century ago to not know the history us older types have had closer contact with. Mark didn’t relate to the poem because most of the Irish were already here when the Statue of Liberty went up, but that’s all right. I bagged over 12 million immigrants who came after 1888. That will have to do.<br /><br />Tim’s “Fratres” had us wondering who the poem was about, and opinion was divided. Catherine had the feeling it was about Tim, not someone else, while others didn’t know and wouldn’t hazard a guess. There were a lot lines in this one I didn’t understand. Dennis noted it had “great economy of language,” and I have to agree with that. Ann, among others, felt the last stanza was confusing, and there was some discussion about it. Tim ended things by telling us it was a love poem about another person, and said he knew readers wouldn’t be able to understand a lot of the lines without more information. If it’s not for general consumption, that’s the poet’s choice. If the poet is happy, I’m happy.<br /><br />Catherine rolled out “Bitter Vision,” and like the rest of the evening’s poems, it generated a good round of discussion. I had no idea what the first verse meant. Edie admitted to having no clue about what was bitter. The origin of the poem apparently has something to do with its confusing quality: it sort of “wrote itself” as the author was arranging words from a magnetic poetry kit. I had never heard of a magnetic poetry kit, and was informed that it’s an assortment of words mounted on small magnets. You move the words around on a metal surface (like a refrigerator) and see what you can come up with. Interesting concept. Catherine confided that she doesn’t know where the bitterness is either, and that even she isn’t sure what some of the lines mean. Well, if the magnetic poetry kit came up with this, maybe it can clear up parts of it too. The kit sounds like an interesting approach, kind of a spark plug for the imagination. If I find one at a yard sale I’m going to make an offer.<br /><br />Except for one line, Ann’s “It Hung on the Living Room Wall” did not suffer from lack of clarity, and told an interesting family story. What hung on the wall was a picture of her father and Governor Rockefeller, and the story concerned her father’s appointment as a Deputy Commissioner in the Rockefeller administration. After Tim concluded the line “clean living” was an intentional contrast to the life of hard physical work endured by her grandparents, Ann informed us it really referred to the clean politics her father practiced after his appointment. Clear that up, and the poem is good to go.<br /><br />Edie concluded the night’s poem-mauling festivities by handing out “Heeling A Dog on Your Left.” This one hit the table in pretty good shape; most of the discussion focused on finding a better term than “stunt” for one particular line. She used only six lines, but they were long lines. My opinion was that she should try using the same wording with more but shorter lines. I didn’t mention this either, because I was half way through one of the few cookies left. They were really good cookies. Better than the weather. Better than the trip home. Better than this blog posting. Good thing I have a metabolism like a shrew. Now what I need are a few good ideas for more poems. Or a magnetic poetry kit.<br /><br /> PaulUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-47045314325291411002011-01-07T14:42:00.002-05:002011-01-07T15:07:18.843-05:001st Night JanuaryCatherine Connelly is a great contributor to group discussions and it was good to see her at 1st Night. We started off picking some of the lines that Larry had emailed us and followed the discussion where it led. A good bit of the talking was about visual art (our guest Steve was doodling while we spoke). I said that I was unable to function simultaneously in writing and art modes, so Larry suggested that I bring a visual piece as my next poem. Worth contemplating. Also talked about the difficulties surrounding critiques, those who want or don't want it, how to do it w/o hurting feelings, how much your own work affects your critical thinking. I would like to continue that conversation. Five of us attended and we ended in time for me to rush home to see Grey's Anatomy.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-72440652511875174062011-01-05T14:31:00.003-05:002011-01-05T14:54:43.629-05:00A little lateSeeing that I left on holiday vacation immediately following the last meeting, without a chance to blog it, I won't. It was a quiet vacation for me, reading, doing a little artwork, and watching game shows (confessing I love game shows) on TV. <br /><br />Reminders: Edie will be reading on January 20 at UPJ (Dan Wilcox) and we are planning dinner at La Salsa Latina at 5 p.m. prior. Let Dennis know if you will be attending and he will make a reservation for us. Alan and Jennifer's annual Cold Fest will be at their house on February 5. Alan has thoughtfully made the start time 3 p.m. for those of us who no longer like to be out after dark, although you are invited to stay late if you are so inclined. Always a good time, although I will personally miss Professor Willis and Judy this year. <br /><br />Misc: Tom stopped at the lib this week and is not snowbound in Huntersland. Larry and I had a great visit at Tim's new apartment; it is lovely and was beautifully decorated for Christmas. Weather permitting, I will be having lunch with Catherine Ally Cat Anderson this week and will encourage her to rejoin us soon. I understand from his daughter that Professor Sullivan has been having some tooth problems. Jim Williams is a little under the weather, too. I missed Dan W.'s open house on New Year's day. Did anyone go?<br /><br />Tomorrow night is discussion night here at 7 p.m., regular meeting on the 13th.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-70198747334792262052010-12-13T12:13:00.003-05:002010-12-13T15:07:37.420-05:00Very annoying thingskeep happening to me the last few days and I am fed up with electronic/computer/email problems, so if anything goes wrong while I am blogging this, I'm quitting. <br /><br />We again had a testosterone-dominated group last Thursday. The balance improved to 4/7 with the last minute arrival of Philomena and Edie. Philomena brought "Audience", addressing the question we have tossed around for discussion of who we are writing for. Edie wrote a clever "Ginsberg-like" character sketch of spinster Amalia Ottemberg.<br /><br />I missed most of the critique of Ann's "Eight Varieties, One Garden" because I was out of the room, but I know it was about tomatoes and it was colorful - unlike Paul's "After Hours" which painted a great picture of a quiet bar without referencing a single color by name. It mentioned the Poet's Corner, making us all believe it was Smith's Tavern. Mark's iPad reminded us of the Poet's Corner in Westminster Abbey, too.<br /><br />The debate over audience was revived over "Beautiful Child", Tim's twin brother. The question was how much we poets were affected by already knowing a lot about Tim's family and if something needed to be clarified in the poem for those who didn't have the background info we did. I think Tim decided to rework it a little.<br /><br />Dennis proclaimed Dan's poem excellent and another good stretch for this relatively new poet. I liked "oysters of thought", did not like "salivated". Someone suggested a tense change.<br /><br />There was some debate over Alan's first line(s), a small punctuating error (the old it's/its dilemma) but he received kudos for the placement on page and a popular ending. Mark brought a Freudian poem of repression (according to Dennis), which to me was merely an nice work equating broken relationships to broken dishes.<br /><br />My noms for BPOE (best poem of the evening) are Trying to Sweep Away the Fire and Ode to Darkness, Larry and Dennis respectively. Larry's worked because or in spite of the cameltoe reference which we explained to the unfamiliar. Larry: " small fire, a giggling wick on a carpet". Dennis: "Like an unloved brother, you appear and tug upon my coat to draw attention...". Dennis tells us his audience is himself. I feel pretty much the same. I had no new poem, but did a quick read of my old "The Pixie Sisters, 1957" which happened to be in my folder and is one of my favorites.<br /><br />Beach Boy Burke, btw, is off pursuing his destiny in enviable climes for an unacceptable length of time. We may possibly see him in time for the Poet Laureate contest. Alan re-issued his invite for the Cookie Party on Friday night at his house. Sorry to say, it seems like many of us are going to be busy or away.<br /><br />Yes, poets are meeting on December 23. Philosophers on the 16th.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-23715336491302686042010-12-02T10:50:00.000-05:002010-12-02T10:50:14.445-05:00Tim's Amazing Video<iframe width="425" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/KaEuKZxvOhQ?fs=1" frameborder="0"></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-88733559696151419142010-11-12T08:51:00.010-05:002010-11-12T12:05:37.125-05:00Loggerhead Rises from a SwampAptly titled and accompanied by an amusing picture on Mark's iPad, Alan's poem was a more "poetic" effort than the one I so harshly commented on last time. Tim remarked cutely that it lacked scientific references to the flora and fauna. Alan and Mark had trekked up Bennet's Hill in Clarksville, the inspiration for both guys' poems. Mark had written <em>Hilltop Visionation</em> (he made that word up, I asked), a letter to America in a great font, which we all liked. It was adorned with colorful vistas from his camera. <br /><br />The photos led to a short discussion of the efficacy and purpose of photos and artwork accompanying poems, a topic which was tabled for a discussion night.<br /><br />Jim tried to tangle Paul's tongue with <em>Carmen Maccaronicum </em>(Macaroni Song), a real twister with a hodgepodge of foreign words that Jim presented in his own inimitable style and accents which Paul had to attempt to duplicate. Jim called it an aural toast, definite open mic material.<br /><br />I thought <em>Osterman and Whiteman</em> was an hysterical portrayal of a prestigious law firm run by a short guy with small genitalia. Few criticisms of this one.<br /><br />Wildly successful is my thought on Philomena's <em>Corduroy Pants</em>, I think my alltime favorite of her poems. It was a commentary on sweatshops, invoking a comparison betweens worlds and cultures that was well written and intense. "...to be connected by the clothes on your back to that person sitting and eating rice noodles...yet to be on guilt's edge with the rightness and wrongness of world equations." Great stuff.<br /><br />As I write this I'm realizing what a good night it was. Ann unveiled a heretofore hidden aspect of her life with a picture of her ex as <em>The Wolf</em>. When she left the cottage, she left forever, no woodsmen to rescue her. (As an aside, Ann's face looked like someone had beaten her, but she hastened to tell us it was from dental work. Don't go to her dentist.) <br /><br />Beach Boy Burke took some unusual criticism last night with <em>Lakeside Rocks at Lookout Point.</em> Everyone was waiting for Mike's traditional surprise ending which did not occur. Paul (I think) said it was too formal for Mike's voice. We suggested rearranging the verses, taking out some unnecessary words and reworking the final six lines. Don't laugh, we did like the poem in spite of all the disagreement.<br /><br />Dan did another good job with <em>Skipping Stones</em>. I noted that Dan seems to have made a great leap (sorry, pun) in his work recently. That means that now we can get down to the business of finetuning our critiques. One point made was that taking out the qualifiers (some, someday, always, much) would make the work stronger, e.g. "False opinions are like sins" instead of "some false opinions are much like sins". Dan assured us that he is an eager learner.<br /><br />I chuckled over Paul's response to my desire to have more color in last week's <em>Carousel Horses</em>. Instead of inserting more actual colors, he added the word color in two places. It was funny, but it still didn't work for me. Paul made changes to the whole poem. We still wanted him to lop off the final two lines. Tim told us Paul never stops revising, which is good.<br /><br />We spent a long time on Eddie's (Edie) <em>Visit to New York</em>, with a variety of opinions on the length (her longest ever) and the topics included. I thought it tried to cover too much and would have been stonger as three separate poems. Not everyone, including the writer, agreed. We all liked the first section best, re the bus stop encounter.<br /><br />To sum up, the twelve of us were an energized group with lots of interaction and some really good critiques. Larry and I graciously :)) gave up our spots in the interest of time.<br /><br />We will not meet again until after Thanksgiving, so blessings on you, raconteurs.<br /><br />There follows an email I just rec'd from Dennis and his poem (which I enjoyed).<br /><br />Dear Poe-ettes,<br /> <br />Sorry I could not make the gathering last nite but I have had a wee bit of work<br />done on my plumbing. Am ok.<br /> <br />I did have a poem to share which I send below. It is dedicated to Helen Vendler<br />that great spelunker of poesy caverns, holding high her torch so all can see her steps and perhaps wish, dare to tread there as well.<br /> <br />I was thinking what a great gift to poetry she is and thus this poem below.<br /> <br />Dennis<br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />AN EARLY MORNING MIDNIGHT RUN<br /> <br /> (For Helen V.)<br /> <br />When the sounds of day<br />Are neatly packed away<br />In their proper drawers<br /> <br />And darkness rings<br />Like a visitor from outer space,<br />Rings the bell of consciousness,<br /> <br />I sit and ponder my remains<br />Strewn like carrion across<br />A solitary country road,<br /> <br />Which even crows deny<br />A place at table, remains<br />More alone than nothing.<br /> <br />But who’s to weight<br />The weight of life more<br />Than endless death?<br /> <br />The mind could care less,<br />Calculator running up the score,<br />But the heart, the heart cares<br /> <br />Runs about like a crazy neighbor<br />Organizing the neighborhood into<br />Edens of collective joy<br /> <br />Poor heart, the heart, driven<br />Like a horse without a cart<br />Blind at a blind man’s game.<br /> <br />Again, it matters not, it only<br />Matters how to settle in<br />To common consciousness<br /> <br />Where life and death night and day<br />Are so one that their twin selves<br />Have no past or future,<br /> <br />Suspending all that’s real<br />Into nothingness, an absence,<br />That gives pleasure beyond bounds.<br /> <br />Who has not stood at that wharf<br />And seen the boat of life sail off<br />Far into the thinness of the sea?<br /> <br />The sea is full of such,<br />Rudderless hulks without place<br />Or destination to go to.<br /> <br />Again it matters not, it only<br />Matters how to settle down<br />Into wordless silence<br /> <br />The place that is no place<br />A mind without thought or reason<br />A body wrinkled like a peach.<br /> <br />A drowsy numbness? No. Nirvana<br />Is no place or acheless state<br />Nirvana is the beginning<br /> <br />Before all beginnings were,<br />Before there was an is,<br />Before is-not was, before<br /> <br />Before before, before before<br />Was, when the sounds of day<br />Are neatly packed away<br /> <br />In their proper drawers<br />And darkness rings<br />Like a visitor from outer space.<br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Dennis Sullivan<br />dsullivan6@nycap.rr.com<br />October 29, 2010<br />2:11 am<br />The VilleUnknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-27351348078684747532010-11-05T08:16:00.003-05:002010-11-05T08:44:54.832-05:001st Night NovemberThe question was why we share our poetry - go to open mics, support groups, etc. - and, of course, we were off and running in a multitudes of directions. Larry talked about his Walt Whitman/grandfather association and Tim had us practically on the floor with his description of hanging his friend (apropos of what I can't remember). Edie and Philomena rounded out the group and we had a good time despite the cold and rainy weather which made me want to stay home.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-7331471935308574052010-11-01T08:55:00.002-05:002010-11-01T09:01:14.038-05:00Comment on CommentJust a quick comment on Dan's comment:<br />Paul's poem did not "fall on deaf ears". No one denied the poignancy of his thought, just that it was not as successful as it might have been. We were criticizing the mechanics of the poem and changes that we felt would make it even more effective to the reader, which, hopefully is what we try to do in all our critiques.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-84386597580254150192010-10-29T08:34:00.012-05:002010-10-29T10:46:16.329-05:00working backwardsI hope you all took the time to read <em>Self Portrait IV </em>which Dennis passed out at the end of the evening and we did not have time to read together. It is a wonderful work and worthy of conversation. Dennis graciously gave his time spot to Philomena who came late with paradoxical poem with a fascinating title (Schrodinger's cat?).<br /><br />Obeeduid's visuals put a real kiss on <em>Dad was right you had great gams </em>about his mother and his daughter. "in the archway ...at the window...to a kitchen...I was never in". Good stuff.<br /><br />Dennis compared my <em>Orphan Chronicles, part 1,</em> to a Greek chorus, a two-voice effort about, what else, the parents. Our guest Rod Cornell, who I have not yet mentioned, did a nice reading of it and I forgot to compliment him. Rod is (was?) a teacher at the high school who wants to do some writing and came at Dennis' urging.<br /><br />I questioned people about any experiences with the fairly new Troy Bookmaker; contemplating self-publishing a book of my Alzheimer poems. <br /><br />I am afraid I went a little off the rails over Alan's <em>Bee Buzz Before the Winter. </em>Sorry, Alan. The following comments are mine alone: the poem was floating along in a lovely lyrical manner - "flowers drip desire...who will drink our nectar?..." when, whammy, he dropped in a textbook excerpt on how many pesticides are found in the human body, intestinal flora, herbicides, chemicals, percentages, organisms,and more,then abruptly began to wax poetic again at the end. No, I do not consider scientific data poetic. Informative, enlightening, maybe activist, but not poetic. It gave me an abrupt, stabbing pain in my head. <br /><br />Larry did not delight me either but his collection of 87 (yes, Alan counted them) one-liners did inspire quite a bit of discussion, beginning with way to pronounce the title <em>Seraglio</em> (meaning a harem, pretend there's no "g"). General consensus: too long, not cohesive, no taproot, possible haikus. Mark went to the bathroom and said he missed nothing.<br /><br />Tim delighted all of us with <em>Mister Figgerwigger's Sister</em>, a poem in "constant motion" which O'B said had a rhyming Cat-in-the-Hat feel. It included a love poem to Dennis, who proclaimed it a "great step forward, a liberation poem" for Tim. I just took it for a great, amusing character sketch. The shower curtain joke is pretty funny.<br /><br />This poem also led to Dennis' speculative question on whether an adjective ever takes away from the force of a noun. Good question to ponder, maybe talk about. That leads me to announce the change of 5th Night Poetry discussions to 1st Night poetry discussions, still on Thursdays, still nicely alliterative. For those interested, we meet next Thursday at 7 p.m. in the director's office to talk. Everyone is welcome, last time was fun.<br /><br />Israel's musicality (how Paula Abdul of me) was evident in <em>Coppertop</em> (an energizing drone in the movie The Matrix )who dreams of a more utopic world as he works. With a few syllabic adjustments it would be a perfect rap.<br /><br />Catherine's <em>Wheels</em> led to talk of similes and metaphors, with Dennis giving pertinent examples in a very effective relationship poem, tightly focused and universal.<br /><br />Dan's blossoming artistry shone through in <em>The Dead Soul</em>, a rather dark railroad journey through dreams. "haphazard tunes on broken silk....infuse the silence of the night...dream a dream of no demand".<br /><br />I am an old woman and I reached for the Websters to look up dactyl, a word that came up in our discussion of Paul's <em>Carousel Horses.</em> The poem received mixed reviews. Catherine pointed out that it was a little unsettling, as clowns can be, and it revived creepy, puking memories in Mark. Someone asked "what is the message?" in the poem, and I wanted some color. <br /><br />The dictionary on dactyl, btw, says <em>a prosodic foot of three syllables, one long followed by two short in quantitative meter.</em> So, I looked up prosodic, the appropriate meaning of which seems to be <em>the stress and intonation patterns of an utterance</em>. Fortunately I knew what utterance is, so I went back to quantitative and got <em>pertaining to or based on the relative duration of syllables.</em> I am getting a little discouraged. This seems too much like work.<br /><br />Dennis reiterated his invitation to a memorial poetry/food fest in honor of Arthur, to occur the day after Thanksgiving. You should all have rec'd an email. EOTNP (and s.o.s) only.<br /><br />Eight of us, who seemed to be starving, went to Smit's for sustenance and were briefly joined there by Jim who had been referee-ing. Gosh, I have no clue how to spell that. And I don't intend to look it up.<br /><br />Hope to see some of you next Thursday. Larry, Tim and I are definites. I am heading to Dobb's Ferry today for Hallo with some of my kids. I'm psyched.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-83589956235826486182010-10-15T08:01:00.006-05:002010-10-15T09:04:18.970-05:00No Difference Between Living and DyingThe last man in will be the first man up: Dan Lawlor brought <strong>The Child Inside</strong>, which he dedicated to Dennis. It proposed a thought provoking concept that at death we are greeted by the child we were born as and he presented it well. Mike B. commented that it was a beautiful idea, filled with peace.<br /><br />Mike, back from his Saratoga sabbatical, brought an appropriately titled piece which put the finger on the track and it's patrons accurately. Most of us agreed that the first verse which described the physical surroundings was unneccesary (boring?) and could be incorporated into the next verses with the use of adjectives.<br /><br />Philomena, back from the unknown, who snuck in even later than Dan, offered a nice small poem with a great title <strong>Only two elevators left </strong> about the enforced intimacy of elevator rides. Susan was expounding on love with wonderful imagery that was cluttered and in need of trimming. Larry suggested she try to make a story from the scattered list. <br /><br />Susan was "dancing with joy" over <strong>Dark Water</strong>, brought by Michael Nardacci. Mike freelances for the Altamont Enterprise and heard about EOTNP from Jill (our poetry "groupie" from Smitty's). Mike is a spelunker who is probably full of exciting tales of caves. It was quite obvious that he was no fledgling writer from the quality of his poem, a dense and descriptive adventure that produced strong emotional reactions in many: "powerful presence, tapestry of cold, chill, black, sense of mystery" were some of the remarks. I hope he continues to join us as I'd like to hear more.<br /><br />My own <strong>Waiting for the Water to Get Hot</strong> struck a chord with at least a couple of people. Tim said it was devastating. Reflective of the dark quality of my thoughts lately.<br /><br />Tim Norman Verhaegen was my hero last night, appearing with a gift that took my breath away (okay, maybe I'm easily impressed). I'm not telling what it is but if you want to see it, it is sitting on the counter in my office until I can make room for it at my house. Tim Norman also brought a successful poem about art and loneliness, which put a voice to the strong internal struggle most artists and writers experiece. <br /><br />Larry evoked the smells of autumn, which included some that were less than desirable (Susan objected strongly). "it's all piano out today, fingers reaching out for peak colors" - that's my kind of autumn poem. None of the schmaltzy rhyming rhapsodies which too many people churn out.<br /><br />Mark was vacillating between several versions of a work in progress that shows good promise. I loved the phrase "lipless mouth" and everyone agree the final line of "endless ways of being held Prisoner" was a winner.<br /><br />Mr. Amidon fielded a little critism this week over tightening up <strong>Hawk Shadow,</strong> a bird revenge poem with a kick at the end. Paul also brought an announcement of a Veterans Poetry Open Mic Night at Sage on November 10.<br /><br />True to form, the Math Guy had written a sonnet, teaching (me, anyway) that sonnets consist of 10 syllables per line, what cachexive means and what a volta is (an emotional or dramatic turning). Susan remarked that it was a beautiful form for a terrible subject (Jim's cancer).<br /><br />Dennis, the new Cosmic Poet, was in fine form about the relationship between biology and the psyche, called <strong>My Torah,</strong> dedicated to Edie. Dennis also offered some very helpful critiques tonight. <br /><br />Tim and Larry in particular seem eager to continue the "5th Night" poetry discussions. We all had a great time at the last one and are considering the possibility of meeting more frequently. Any joiners? Any opinions?<br /><br />We missed Catherine, Anne and Ally Cat, Israel and Alan and Boondocks Tom, but still had a full house.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423009749047112824.post-60641116393693581762010-10-04T09:35:00.003-05:002010-10-04T09:55:17.377-05:005th NightAh...those of you who did not grace us with your presence missed a great deal of inspired discussion. There were eight of us, each of whom offered their response to the question "Why do you write?" Not only did we get to know each other better, but the answers led to other questions and we covered a good deal of territory. It was definitely a good session, leaving us to lament the fact that there is not another 5th Thursday for several months. <br /><br />There follows some "Ramblings" from El Rapant, the titular head (did I say that?) of the philosophers, exhorting your attendance and...well, generally rambling.<br /><br /><em>Tis a shame that many of the folks on this list were not around for our grand discussion of the 30th when many of these topics were either spoken about or hinted at. Tis also to be regretted that they do not ever attend philosophy club meetings. If they are so concerned with the below issues... <br /> <br />I will repeat my off-the-cuff remark from last week: I am all the time amazed by the general and scientifically caused belief that, despite our obvious and pronounced differences and uniqueness or quirkiness as individuals, we are all of the same species. Whether or not our dissimilarities are at least in part caused by the emphasis on humanism and individuality in Western cultures, the rift between what we want and need for ourSELVES and what the community needs in order to survive cannot be patched up by simply ignoring or repressing one side of ourselves for the sake of the IMAGINED OTHER, i.e., the image that holds the community together. The flaws in both the individual and the community make both imperfect, make all shoes fit uncomfortably, and prick us on to ceaseless strife. Conflict resolution is a hoax, or a temporary fix to a permanent problem built right into the creature of various species mixed, also referred to imperfectly as the human being. <br /> <br />And conflict resolution, with a decidedly mystical tone to which all of the faithful sing the same tired old song together, is another name for religion. All it takes is one original voice, aka the gorgeous angel named Lucifer, or the poet, to return the entire congregation to its conflicted reality. Please remember that there could be no Lucifer unless we all had an emphatic luciferousness about us. <br /> <br />This conflicted angel would like to ask all the smoothies out there: Are any of you into numismatics per chance? <br /> <br />We are all going to try to stuff all this nonsense in one little room again on the first Thursday of October at VPL at 7:00 p.m. Please come and be another trapezoid in the confines.</em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0