poets

The Thinker, Buddy & The Gossiping Reeboks.

/ Janna Hill / 1 Comment

Why I chose The Thinker for the final post of National Poetry Month.

A few months ago we acquired Buddy from a lovely family after our Blue Heeler was killed. His prior family said they couldn’t keep him (for a number of reasons), said they hadn’t even named him but I suspect they were fibbing; a little white lie to ease our grief.

Right away our family asked what we were going to name this little fellow. Without thinking (in my typical weird, off the cuff manner) I blurted out, “He told me his name is Patrick, but that we could call him Buddy.” The grand-kids believed me, excited that I could communicate with dogs. The children mumbled something about having me committed. I just smiled and thought, at least I don’t talk to shoes.

Weather casts a green hue (1280x1229)

The Thinker

by William Carlos Williams

My wife’s new pink slippers
have gay pom-poms.
There is not a spot or a stain
on their satin toes or their sides.
All night they lie together
under her bed’s edge.
Shivering I catch sight of them
and smile, in the morning.
Later I watch them
descending the stair,
hurrying through the doors
and round the table,
moving stiffly
with a shake of their gay pom-poms!
And I talk to them
in my secret mind
out of pure happiness.

We later found out that Buddy’s name was ‘Gus’. My husband couldn’t wait to share that bit of information.  I said something like, “Aww, I knew they sacrificed their sweet puppy out of pure kindness.” He of course really wanted to make the point that the dog had NOT told me his name was Patrick.  At that point I had to be honest…

“Hmm… Well, he didn’t really say his name was Patrick.” I admitted.

“I KNEW IT!” Husband gloated.

“What he actually said was that he was born Patrick Gustav, but he prefers to be called Buddy.”

The husband politely conceded and took Buddy out to find a new stick.

I was relieved that the issue had been settled once and for all until Buddy ran back in to tell me something; a disturbing bit of gossip actually. He said after the lights are out and the house is quiet that my Reeboks snicker and mock me, they laugh at the way I run!

The shoes, of course have the right to their opinion and I (of course) have the right to stomp around in altered footwear.

I find they fit much better minus the tongue. 😉

“The Thinker” was published in Williams’s book, Sour Grapes: a book of poems (The Four Seas Company, 1921).

Don’t let poetry die from neglect or sit gathering dust until next April.

May I suggest a nice anthology by HWA,

HWA Poetry Showcase Volume I

AND I Have 25 free promo codes from Audible for Pose Prose & Poems narrated by Linda Roper if anyone is interested.

A Poem & A Picture (Day 3)

/ Janna Hill / 4 Comments

Caterpillars

By Brod Bagert

They came like dewdrops overnight
Eating every plant in sight,
Those nasty worms with legs that crawl
So creepy up the garden wall,
Green prickly fuzz to hurt and sting
Each unsuspecting living thing.
How I hate them! Oh, you know
I’d love to squish them with my toe.
But then I see past their disguise,
Someday they’ll all be butterflies.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Okay I know this caterpillar will turn into a  moth. A Polyphemus moth to be exact but shhh she thinks she’s a butterfly.

Emily’s Simplicity

/ Janna Hill / 4 Comments

Emily Dickinson

(December 10, 1830 – May 15, 1886)
Today I thought I’d visit the modest rhymes and musings of sweet Emily Dickinson but then I changed my mind.

Not that I don’t adore Emily’s simplicity – we were like best friends for a long time. Did you know if she hadn’t died of kidney disease or heart failure she would have been 184 years old next month? We were going to go skydiving…

Okay, back to earth and the late Emily Dickinson.

Instead of sharing the standard fluffy stuff of hopes and dreams and sugary illusions of death she is known for I decided to show her darker side with this letter and poem to her sister in law Susan Huntington Dickinson.

I heard if you invert Em’s photo you’ll see that she actually has horns. [gasp! yikes! yee gads it’s true!]

She lived and died in Massachusetts ya know.

THE LETTER

Tuesday morning – [1854]
Sue – you can go or stay – There is but one alternative – We differ often lately, and this must be the last.
You need not fear to leave me lest I should be alone, for I often part with things I fancy I have loved, – sometimes to the grave, and sometimes to an oblivion rather bitterer than death – thus my heart bleeds so frequently that I shant mind the hemorrhage, and I can only add an agony to several previous ones, and at the end of day remark – a bubble burst!
Such incidents would grieve me when I was but a child, and perhaps I could have wept when little feet hard by mine, stood still in the coffin, but eyes grow dry sometimes, and hearts get crisp and cinder, and had as lief burn.
Sue – I have lived by this.
It is the lingering emblem of the Heaven I once dreamed, and though if this is taken, I shall remain alone, and though in that last day, the Jesus Christ you love, remark he does not know me – there is a darker spirit will not disown its child.
Few have been given me, and if I love them so, that for idolatry, they are removed from me – I simply murmur gone, and the billow dies away into the boundless blue, and no one knows but me, that one went down today. We have walked very pleasantly – Perhaps this is the point at which our paths diverge – then pass on singing Sue, and up the distant hill I journey on.

I have a Bird in spring
Which for myself doth sing –
The spring decoys.
And as the summer nears –
And as the Rose appears,
Robin is gone.

Yet do I not repine
Knowing that Bird of mine
Though flown –
Learneth beyond the sea
Melody new for me
And will return.

Fast in a safer hand
Held in a truer Land
Are mine –
And though they now depart,
Tell I my doubting heart
They’re thine.

In a serener Bright,
In a more golden light
I see
Each little doubt and fear,
each little discord here
Removed.

Then will I not repine,
Knowing that Bird of mine
Though flown
Shall in a distant tree
Bright melody for me
Return.

E –

 * * *

For more information on the life of Emily Dickinson check out the Emily Dickinson Museum.

So You Want to Be an Author…

/ Janna Hill / Leave a comment

Well hop on in but there are a few things you should know…

The world wide web is great but it doesn’t guarantee your success

Writing is a struggle and sometimes you get stuck.

But for many if you persevere…if you try hard enough… long enough you might just break free and get noticed.

But writer beware sometimes being noticed is not a good thing.

Seriously. So you want to be published? You want your soul and imagination written down for the world to see? That is awesome!

Then surely your exterior is tougher than the grasshopper you saw squashed. That means you have developed a very thick skin. Good, you will be able to take the criticism that comes with your new endeavor.

You write poetry? Well so do a billion other people and a very [VERY] small percentage are deemed worthy by any publisher. They are in the business of selling books and “Poetry doesn’t sell books.”

You have a great story to tell? Yeah, so do the other billion that aren’t busy writing poetry. But yours is special? I believe you.

If you’re still interested here are a few suggestions other than ‘don’t quit your day job’.

  1. Join a writers group.
  2. Read, read, read oh and don’t forget to read.
  3. Look at successful writers. Note their overnight success took years to accomplish so quit looking for shortcuts. There aren’t any.

You have internet access or you wouldn’t be reading this so go in search of a group that fits your niche. Use search terms like writers group romance, writers group poetry, writers group fantasy… you get the picture.

So now you have finished your book, your editing is done and you are ready to present your heart and soul to a publisher don’t forget that the odds are against you. Do it anyway, rejection is part of the process.

If you decide to go the independent route be prepared to work harder and to pay your own expenses e.g. editing, proofreading and marketing.

And last but not least a quote from one of my favorites, A bad reputation is much harder to recover from than no reputation at all.

Caution: Janna Hill is not an adviser. She has strategically placed this post as a means to swindle readers into viewing photographs of insects.

Disclaimer: A young locust was mortally wounded in the preparation of this story.