Coming To My Home Today . . . More Poetry!

After reading How To Read A Poem and Fall In Love With Poetry, it became clear to me that I need some serious assistance with poetry. I have a couple of books that will get me started, but I wanted something else I could pick away at that was more specific than just "poetry". That is a broad topic! I did a little research and here is what I found, Victorian Poetry: An Annotated Anthology.


This book is part of a series of annotated poetry anthologies. I chose this one because I know I like the poetry of Christina Rossetti and her work is included here. It looks like there is biographical information included for each poet and extra information about each poem. Also, there is a section in the Table of Contents that groups the poems by subject in the event a person chose to engage in a topical study of the poems in the book. I'm really excited about this volume, and if it turns out to be as great as it looks I may have to pick up other volumes in this series. I'll keep you posted!

On a side note, as I was researching the direction I wanted to go in with this I have discovered that I seem to have a liking for Victorian Literature in general. I see a potential Knowledge Block forming! :-)

HOW TO READ A POEM AND FALL IN LOVE WITH POETRY

by Edward Hirsch




Edward Hirsch's love of poetry is undeniable. His enthusiasm shows all through How to Read a Poem And Fall in Love with Poetry. The only problem for me was that he didn't quite bring it down to the beginner level I was hoping for. As I read, I felt as if I was assumed to have a certain amount of knowledge regarding poets and poetry already, not to mention a fabulous library of poetry to which I could just wander over and pluck up the text in question. I didn't understand some of the references he threw out there with no explanations.

Rather than irritating me, it made me curious. Maybe his point was not only to remind people of things they might already know but also to fan the flames of inquisitiveness. (I almost said "fan the flames of inquisition", but that was not a pleasant image.)

My favorite parts were when a complete poem or section of a poem was printed out and he went on to analyze it in detail. I inevitably had those great "A-ha!" moments when I went back, reread, and thought about his comments. Unfortunately there are only a handful of those sections included. That's not a fault of the book, only of my understanding of what was in it.

I need to find a better "beginner" poetry book, but I will be keeping this one around not only for the excellent reading list at the back of the book, but to return to later once my knowledge is at a greater level to take in and better understand its content. In the meantime, I have a literature textbook that seems to have a very good poetry section, and I recently purchased The Making of a Poem: A Norton Anthology of Poetic Forms. Those should move me a little further down the knowledge path!

Creepy Poetry Weirdness

I never expected to run across a Minneapolis connection in a book about poetry, but I was reading the other night from How to Read a Poem And Fall in Love with Poetry and ran across this:

"I think of a bitterly cold Minneapolis morning in January 1972, when John Berryman climbed onto the metal railing of the Washington Avenue Bridge and made a gesture as if waving before plunging into the river to his death." (p. 46, emphasis in original.)

John Berryman, I've since learned, "was a major figure in American poetry in the second half of the 20th century and often considered one of the founders of the Confessional school of poetry" (Wikipedia), the river referred to is the Mississippi, and the Washington Avenue Bridge is only about a mile downriver from the 35W bridge that infamously collapsed. It's part of a popular marathon training route, and we drive by it every time we come home from a Timberwolves game. Here's a pic of the bridge Mr. Berryman chose to throw himself off of:


Now envision that same bridge in the middle of a Minnesota winter. I can't even imagine being that depressed. And, yes, I will now be buying one of his books, because that's just the sort of sick individual I am.

POEMS FROM GUANTANAMO

Edited by Marc Falkoff



Poems from Guantanamo: The Detainees Speak puts a human face on the subject of Guantanamo. I couldn't help but be moved by the words of the detainees, be they hateful, hopeful, angry or inspirational. Just as affecting are the short biographies of each of the poets and how they came to be at the facility. This tiny book most likely will not change most people's personal opinion of Guantanamo, its inmates and America's part in it all, but it will make some people think hard about it in a way they never have before.

Cat Haiku

I need to make a public apology. I posted what I thought were funny Haiku lines in a comment on a very nice person's blog, and I think I may have offended her. And I'm really, really sorry if I did!! This person is a cat lover, as am I, and the lines I shared were from an email I received years ago that made me laugh hysterically. You see, my kitty Cleopatra (see my sidebar photo) was one of those cats that lived happily with us, but we were always pretty sure she thought of us as some bizarre sub-species. When I saw these lines of Cat Haiku, I could so totally picture Miss Cleo authoring them that to this day they make me smile. I share them now for all of you who have known these kinds of wonderfully superior beings! (And I mean that in only the kindest way!)

(And if I did offend my blog friend with my stupid sense of humor, please, please forgive me!)


CAT HAIKU

The food in my bowl
Is old, and more to the point
Contains no tuna.


So you want to play.
Will I claw at dancing string?
Your ankle's closer


There's no dignity
In being sick - which is why
I don't tell you where.


Seeking solitude
I am locked in the closet.
For once I need you.


Tiny can, dumped in
Plastic bowl. Presentation,
One star; service: none.


Am I in your way?
You seem to have it backwards:
This pillow's taken.


Your mouth is moving;
Up and down, emitting noise.
I've lost interest.


The dog wags his tail,
Seeking approval. See mine?
Different message.


My brain: walnut-sized.
Yours: largest among primates.
Yet, who leaves for work?


Most problems can be
Ignored. The more difficult
Ones can be slept through.


My affection is conditional.
Don't stand up,
It's your lap I love.


Cats can't steal the breath
Of children. But if my tail's
Pulled again, I'll learn.


I don't mind being
Teased, any more than you mind
A skin graft or two.


So you call this thing
Your "cat carrier." I call
These my "blades of death."


Toy mice, dancing yarn
Meowing sounds. I'm convinced:
You're an idiot.

That last one was my favorite. Cleopatra was always incredibly not amused. :-)
Have a great day everyone!
Lezlie

National Poetry Month

April is National Poetry Month. I have not made note of it only because I'm not much of a poetry person. Not that I don't want to be. It's just not a skill I have spent any amount of time honing, and therefore a lot of poetry's end is greeted by me with a blank stare. I aim to change that eventually. In fact, I have recently purchased How to Read a Poem: And Fall in Love with Poetry by Edward Hirsch. If I'd have been more on top of things, I would have planned to read it this month in honor of National Poetry Month. I'm quick on the uptake, aren't I? :-)

Anyway, being mostly ignorant when it comes to poetry does not necessarily mean I have no appreciation for it at all, so I would like to share with you a gorgeous poem that I really do love by Christina Rossetti:


SONG

by: Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)

WHEN I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain;
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.

("Song" is reprinted from Goblin Market and other Poems. Christina Rosetti. Cambridge: Macmillan, 1862.)


I adore that poem. I was reminded of it as I sat by my Great Aunt Cathy's bedside in the hospital. She was in her final hours and, of course, I was crying. She had very little strength left, but she took my hand and said very quietly, "Don't cry for me, Lezlie. I know where I'm going." And she smiled. And so did I. If she was good with it, so was I. And that's how I want it to be for me when it's my time. Don't cry for me. Smile and be happy for the time we had, remember if it makes you feel good, and go on with your life, because that's what I'll be doing. In a manner of speaking. :-)

That's what that poem means to me.
Lezlie

Read other Christina Rossetti poems and learn more about her here.

And here are some books of her poetry if you fall in love with her as much as I did: