War Psalm

Mimi's chapbook of WWII poems for her father has been published and she donated a copy for the VPL collection. The book has a pic of the author looking absolutely glamorous-in full color, with lipstick even!They are on sale from her or at Amazon ($13). (Mimi, my favorite is Postcard from the War.) Her poem last night was also about war, the current one, and the presentation of a medal to a young widow (aside: check out war portraits by Nina Berman in the NYTimes this morning 8/24).

Paul presented another glimpse into his mischievous young life with a circus story that was very funny and deserved a five-star rating. Obeedude did a funny with What maks tha Happie Maun happie? Rather oddly, it referenced serotonin. Perhaps a more colloquial spelling. Saeretunen?

Dennis started out to Perth Amboy with a bang - hauling a truckload of chickens with his grandfather. I thought I was gonna love it, but he lost me in stanza two and the discussion between us degenerated into a minor tift over Priam, of all things. I no longer have a mind for complexities. Oh, well. Joyce (welcome back, Schreiber!) was also into mythological references. Her Medea was very emotional, in spite of the spaghetti straps.

We discussed the shape and size of Asparagus, which was Tom's title. Not many comments, as Tom's style is all his own. Alan, on the other hand, fielded a lot of suggestions about his Campfire on the Land, a sweet/sad memory of father-son camping trips. (from me: read the poem on his second page called Poem as Confessional. Great one.)

I did not have a poem, blaming it on my computer which has vomited up my Microsoft Word and rendered me helpless.

I was wrong about segue. No one got gaveled.

No Ally, no Art, no Edie, Mike or Dan or Catherine. Tim is off to Rockport, MA, today and I am off to Maine next week. Tom is doing the old college trip with his daughter this weekend. Good luck to him. Maybe we will be back to full strength on September 13.

Survivor by Roger McGough

Everyday, I think about dying.
About disease, starvation,
violence, terrorism, war,
the end of the world.

It helps keep my mind off things.

Pooched for Kisses

Last night I wanted to be Marilyn Monroe with her dress blowing in the hot air, her wasp-waist and her red lips pooched for kissing. My poem reflected the reality of it all. Mimi remarked that she had been thinking about the word "pooch" recently. Odd.

Mimi brought her annual Elvis poem (yes, the King is dead!) which everyone liked. It is hard for me to imagine our sensible Mimi as "boy crazy", but that is what she admits to. Philomena, with a last minute entry, asked the pitiful question who am i.

Art's poem was visually pleasing to me, with a recurring line of "sometimes I ask too much of chance." It also struck a chord (sorry) with a reference to Sibelius' 7th, rising and hanging in the air. Dan, our opera singer, particularly liked that, too.

The stout-hearted Scottish wanderer continues his journey. Mark responded to our questions for further explanation about ULLANS, the language he has been sleeping with. He is able to access the words through glossaries and other writings to establish their meaning and usage, which I didn't understand. I thought he was just making it up as needed.

I was happy to see Paul at the Ernie Williams concert Wednesday night. It was a great evening. I love Ernie. Was wishing Tom was there to hear the sax player who was phenomenal. Paul's poem was very strong, about an old man dying to sounds of a baseball game outside his window. We all offered a little trimming advice and I suggested a title change to "Crossing the Plate".

Napoleon at Elba was well served by Dan's verse. In fact, we all wanted him to continue it beyond the four stanzas he had started with. A Napoleonic epic.

I got a little carried away with rearranging Cathy's effort at comparing pelican flight to the Blue Angels, although she took it graciously. My excuse was that I liked the concept so much it needed to be made stronger. Cathy won a nice cash prize in the Greenville All Arts Matter contest for her poem about driving with her oxygen. Good woman.

BTW, Cathy will be deciding soon whether or not to continue with Lifelines this fall. Anyone who wants it to keep meeting should be ready to make a real commitment to the group. Think about others you might recruit and contact Cathy at 861-8067. Any of you who are also prose writers might want to sign up for a writing workshop I have scheduled here in October with local author Elizabeth Brundage. Details will be coming out in the next Bookworm at the end of August.

Mimi was featured at Cafe Lena this month. I am going to be at the Lark Tavern in September. Mike Burke appeared on Mimi's program on Bethlehem TV last Thursday. I missed it.

Someone made a suggestion (after I ripped up Cathy's pelicans) that we pick a short poem and all write our own versions of it. Something simple, for example, the WCW poem about the plums whose title I can't come up with. We also mentioned another group topic night, which I always find interesting. Anyone got a topic?

Love and kisses, Marilyn

from Mimi

On Sunday, July 29, 2007, EOTN Poets Joyce Schreiber, Dennis
Sullivan, Philomena Moriarty, Catherine Norr and Mimi Moriarty
attended a special service, "Poetic Perspectives on Spirituality," at
the First Unitarian Universalist Society of Albany. Philomena, along
with church member Julie Lomoe, hosted, greeted and opened the
service with their remarks and their poetry. Dennis, Joyce and Mimi
read three poems each, all on the subject of spirituality. As you
can imagine, each had a very different slant. Catherine played
guitar and sang two very haunting, beautiful songs. There were two
other poets, Carol Graser and Pam Clements, who also participated.
The EOTN poets were warmly received. Philomena was an especially
gracious host. Afterwards the poets, with guests, brunched at
Bountiful Bread in Stuyvesant Plaza. The conversation was lively.
Dennis entertained the table with a bit of Latin, Mimi, Catherine and
Joyce reminisced about their week at Pyramid Lake, and witnesses say
the place was much quieter when they all left for home.

New Link

We are NOT meeting at Mimi's house on August 9. In addition to our mixed vacation schedules, Mimi tells me that Rte 85 is closed for construction until ???, making it very complicated to find her. Therefore, we will meet at VPL on the 9th and try for another date in the fall at Mimi's (beautiful) house.

Please see the new link on our link list. You can follow it to a new reference database the library has subscribed to (Thompson Gale), choose "literature" link and you will arrive at the Contemporary Poets site. You can look up hundreds of poets for bio information, reviews, etc. It is pretty interesting.

Congrats to Tom on another gallery acceptance. Those orbs are really in orbit, aren't they.

Have a happy weekend.
Remember "The time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time." (Bertrand Russell)

Just too funny

Paul, you are a trip. You guys are just too funny sometimes. Keep reading and posting comments.
Lily Alys

The Bad Boys Blog

Can't get that song out of my head now.

Okay, tt seemed to work having the person to the left of the writer automatically be the person to do the second reading. Let's keep doing that.

Paul proposed that instead of taking the three-week hiatus when it occurs, we use that 5th Thursday for an extra meeting. This would, incidentally, take care of our holiday conflicts when we miss meetings on Thanksgiving and Christmas. This is up for a vote - opinions, anyone?

I am updating the "class list" - I have Dan's information and a couple of email changes. Anyone else have anything?

I have not yet talked to Mimi as I believe she is still at Pyramid Lake. There are a couple of people absent for the next meeting (The Red Menace is one), so I will ask her about another date to go her house. Nobody wanted to miss it.

Philomena was back after an absence and Ally can't seem to stay away even though she keeps threatening to do so. (She and Edie were both lovely in pink.) Philomena got in a nice dig at you-know-who (the "leaderofthe freeworld") with Pigeon Droppings. Ally presented her hero husband as a 19-year-old WWII pilot in the Pacific. We agreed that "kill" is a good word. I brought a show'n'tell photo of a child I met over the weekend and a commentary on seeing beneath the skin. Dennis had the best title of the night with When You Bow Your Head To Die. I want to write one with the same title.

Oh, gosh, Dennis, I just stopped to look at your other poems from last night and found the best one you have EVER WRITTEN! I command everyone to read The Presence of God (on his third page). We must workshop this. Dennis, why didn't you choose it for last night? Was this a test to see if we really read what you bring?

Tom and Obee and Paul got gaveled for chatting when someone else was commenting. I thought it was just Paul and Obee, but they insisted it was Tom's fault. Paul received a few suggestions for increasing the impact of his Highway Incident - a dramatic occurance that might have been made more so with a few changes. Mark had an unusual format to his ...Lament of a Simple Minded Christian and it was amusing and sad and autobiographical. I liked it a lot. It is curious that Dan has inspired some rhyming verse from the rest of us.

Bad Boy Tom (or should I say Deaf Boy Tom) wrote On His Partial Deafness (my favorite of the evening). He read it last week at Social Justice, so some of us had a preview. It is a performance piece and he performs it perfectly. Also a good second read by Mark.

Tim did a hilarious update of his mother rampaging through the house and neighborhood. Tom suggested trying it as a prose poem, no paragraphs. I was busy paring it down. Great material either way.

Alan offered A Design on Your Attention, a reflection on linoleum slicing. Make your own metaphor. Alan, I liked it and the poem which begins on your opposite page, too. Lastly, Mr. Lawlor, who says his life is music, had a perfect verse to start off What is Music? "...the melody of dreams that lovers keep..." Sweet and well written.

Lively conversation followed at Smitty's, all ten of us engaged with our seating companions. General question posed by Dennis regarding my experience with Moses about my white Bible. I think I "won" in the opinion poll. Lots of wings consumed.

Between blogs

By popular request I am adding this blog between meeting blogs. There is a new comment on the post called A Little Love Story. It is from Jeanne Rankin, our John's elder daughter who lives in Texas. It, of course, brought a tear to my eye.

A brief report on our night last Thursday at the Social Justice Center with Tim as the feature - he did a great job. His poems sound wonderful in a performance setting. Dan Wilcox is the host and holds everyone to the one-poem rule. Tom and Dennis and Obee and Mimi were all there and read. Prior, we had dinner together at Carmine's, where the food was outstanding.

There was a respectable crowd - more than 20. I read my getting married in Vegas poem and had a slight altercation with someone over the content. Weird. I am back from an excellent weekend in the Bronx and will see you all this Thursday.

A little love story

I just got off the phone with Mildred Kerr and have a fresh appreciation for what a special person she is. She sounded very feeble and weak when she answered the call and my heart sank. It didn't take long however for her to begin talking, telling me stories about her and Donald. They celebrated their 50th anniversary in Ogonquit, ME, where Mildred loved to go and sketch, (while Donald waited, infinitely patient). That day they made a heart in the sand with their initals inside and they planned to do it again this year for their 61st in June. Donald died three weeks before the anniversary so Mildred asked her son to take her and he did. Donald's last words were "I love you, so long". How I wish that I could have had a relationship like that in my life.

She spoke fondly of EOTNP and asked to be remembered to you. She needs more time before we plan a visit.

bv

Civil Seer by Dennis Sullivan

Civil Seer


Father told me
be a civil servant

New York City cop
or fireman, sanitation

has the benefits
glasses and teeth

out in twenty
upstate at forty

a chicken farm
a horse or two to ride on.

His counsel I followed, save
a servant of servility I became

a cop of words and sentiments
a fireman of unconsciousness

a garbage man of despair
strewing poems everywhere

a proud civil seer, poet,
serving with flair the city

of kindness and peace
astride beauty’s elegant mane

no glasses no teeth
just gratitude, what Blake says

is grace, before which death daily
bows in ignominy.


Thanks, Dennis!