Sunday, June 22, 2014

Magpie Tales: Summer Dreaming

Visit Magpie Tales for poetry and prose using the picture prompt.

Sweet Summer, 1912, John William Waterhouse



SUMMER DREAMING

A fan of creased leaves, the murmur of water, fragrance
of flowers above my head and arms.
Sweet grass my bed, the warm sun my cover.

What strange fantasies wander through my mind
on these summer days free from distraction,
from the question of other eyes.

But I long for a long book, and the soft fur of a cat
on my arm as I drink in the pure air
of what could be a perfect poised day.

© Gerry at Strummed Words


Sunday, June 8, 2014

Magpie Tales: Time on a Reel

Visit Magpie Tales for poetry and prose using the picture prompt.




TIME ON A REEL

TEACh me how to use this infernal machine.
I know it's old fashioned and from my grandmother's time
But it has her voice and her songs and my childhood
imprinted on its aged plastic tape,
my young years with my grandma magnetized
and put on a reel. So that I might hear her once again
and my own plaintive voice singing along.

How precious is time, present and past.
We hold it in memory and look to it for our future,
It is the key to ourselves.

But this infernal machine has stumped my time, in this present.

© Gerry at Strummed Words




Thursday, April 10, 2014

National Poetry Month: Gerard Manley Hopkins' "Spring and Fall: To a Young Child"


The 2014 National Poetry Month Blog Tour is hosted by Serena at Savvy Verse and Wit to celebrate poets and poetry in April. Let me share one of my favorite poems.

Spring and Fall
  by Gerard Manley Hopkins
              to a young child

Márgarét, áre you gríeving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leáves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! ás the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sórrow's spríngs áre the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It ís the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.

- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16074#sthash.GsA1Cneo.dpuf

My thoughts: I fell in love with this short poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins when our English teacher introduced it to us in our first year in college. A published poet herself, she read it with such clarity and conviction and feeling that I felt I was able to understand Margaret and feel just as she did!

Margaret the young child has seen the renewal of spring and is just now realizing what autumn means, when the leaves turn golden and fall - the end of spring and summer, the end of life or of innocence. Hopkins turns this into a moral or insight into human nature and predicts that Margaret, in her youth, is just now seeing a side of life that she will become used to as she grows older, something that will cease to amaze or distress her as time passes.

What are your reactions to the poem and what do you take from it?
How do you respond to the rhythm and the rhyme of the lines?
Try reading it out loud for the full effect.


Born at Stratford, Essex, England, on July 28, 1844, Gerard Manley Hopkins is regarded as one the Victorian era's greatest poets. 

He was raised in a prosperous and artistic family. He attended Balliol College, Oxford, in 1863, where he studied Classics. In 1864, Hopkins first read John Henry Newman's Apologia pro via sua, which discussed the author's reasons for converting to Catholicism. Two years later, Newman himself received Hopkins into the Roman Catholic Church. Hopkins soon decided to become a priest himself, and in 1867 he entered a Jesuit novitiate near London. At that time, he vowed to "write no more...unless it were by the wish of my superiors." Hopkins burnt all of the poetry he had written to date and would not write poems again until 1875.

He spent nine years in training at various Jesuit houses throughout England. He was ordained in 1877 and for the next seven years carried his duties teaching and preaching in London, Oxford, Liverpool, Glasgow, and Stonyhurst. In 1875, Hopkins began to write again after a German ship, the Deutschland, was wrecked during a storm at the mouth of the Thames River. Many of the passengers, including five Franciscan nuns, died. Although conventional in theme, Hopkins poem "The Wreck of the Deutschland" introduced what Hopkins called "sprung rhythm." By not limiting the number of "slack" or unaccented syllables, Hopkins allowed for more flexibility in his lines and created new acoustic possibilities. In 1884, he became a professor of Greek at the Royal University College in Dublin. He died five years later from typhoid fever.

 Although his poems were never published during his lifetime, his friend poet Robert Bridges edited a volume of Hopkins' Poems that first appeared in 1918. In addition to developing new rhythmic effects, Hopkins was also very interested in ways of rejuvenating poetic language. He regularly placed familiar words into new and surprising contexts. He also often employed compound and unusual word combinations. As he wrote to in a letter to Bridges, "No doubt, my poetry errs on the side of oddness…" Twentieth century poets such as W.H. Auden, Dylan Thomas, and Charles Wright have enthusiastically turned to his work for its inventiveness and rich aural patterning. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/284#sthash.JeZaYNwR.dpuf

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Magpie Tales: Consolations

Visit Magpie Tales for poetry and prose using the picture prompt.

Feast in the House of Simon, 1610, El Greco 

Consolations

The consolations
where you sit at table
So far back in time and place,
an emerge 
in consciousness
to dizzy and defy,
this seating
side by side.


© Gerry at Strummed Words



Monday, February 17, 2014

Brown Stone




Universal Studios Lot, Instagram by sessepien 


At cross purposes, my bike walks 
to your apartment, for let, to wake
a free spirit determined to leave
these brown bricks
dappled in sunlight and a promise
of celebrities for view. 

© Gerry at Strummed Words

Visit Magpie Tales for poetry and prose using the picture prompt.