Monday, September 27, 2010

Monday Poetry Stretch - Without Words

Dana Gioia wrote a poem that begins in this fashion.
Words

The world does not need words. It articulates itself
in sunlight, leaves, and shadows. The stones on the path
are no less real for lying uncatalogued and uncounted.
The fluent leaves speak only the dialect of pure being.
The kiss is still fully itself though no words were spoken.

Read the poem in its entirety.
How do objects or events express themselves without words? I'm not thinking of mask poems here but rather of poems that help us hear the thoughts and feelings of things that cannot speak. So, there's your challenge. Leave me a note about your poem and I'll post the results here later this week.

11 comments:

  1. Not quite sure if this is what you mean, but here goes:

    Green Onion

    The knife cuts
    like an archaeologist,
    revealing small layers
    of white and pale green,
    then dark green, neatly
    circling. A sharp scent
    rises up, softer
    than a skunk's.
    There is water, too,
    the lightest of dews.
    Little wheels made
    from what was tall once.
    Pretty as pearls, pretty
    as springtime, tumbling
    off the board into
    the round blue bowl
    full of leaves.

    --Kate Coombs, 2010, all rights reserved

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  2. Donut

    He was already not an object
    but became an event.
    The technician's wand rolled
    over the glazed dome of my belly
    and someone flickered into view,
    someone who, according to the tech,
    was certainly a boy.

    "Hello, Jasper." I greeted him,
    certainly, with our favored name;
    loud and clear, a soul's voice answered,
    "My name is not Jasper."

    I looked around to see who else had heard--the tech?
    His other mother?
    His little sister, who had been there herself not so long ago?
    No--only I heard him speak so certainly,
    and silently called him Duncan,
    Donut out loud.


    ~Heidi Mordhorst 2010
    arr, matey

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  3. Thanks, Tricia, and hi, Kate.
    Particularly fond of knife as archaeologist and of "little wheels made from what was tall once," a pungent transformation.

    Realized the word "little" for sister should be deleted--incorrect and extraneous.

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  4. Thank you, Heidi. Ultrasound belly as glazed donut--hooray! And you know, I always catch things like that ("little")approximately 0.5 seconds after hitting SEND. :)

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  5. A Dandelion Taught Me

    Many people will not like me.
    Some may try to ruin me.

    Anyone can be replaced.
    New heads pop out each day.

    Death comes quickly.
    Green – Yellow – White – Gone.

    Still
    I will keep a bright face
    find hope in the sun
    bounce back
    even after they mow me down.

    © Amy Ludwig VanDerwater

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  6. LEFTY SCISSORS
    By Steven Withrow


    Those southpaw snippers never make the cut.
    They clip and slice as nice as any righty,
    But the fact remains they always ride the bench.
    There’s something of the mighty underdog
    About those unsung rookies overlooked
    By every scout, and all they need is one
    Chop at the plate to prove beyond a doubt
    They won’t strike out. Instead, they bide their time
    With grace, while righty fans sneer, sinister,
    And boo. How do the ambidextrous test
    Their heft? Left out, left over, left alone,
    They still could split the team and field their own,
    Decide it scissors, paper, fist, or stone,
    The only just and right way to go left.


    Copyright 2010 by Steven Withrow. All rights reserved.

    ReplyDelete
  7. I reworked the last line:

    LEFTY SCISSORS
    By Steven Withrow


    Those southpaw snippers never make the cut.
    They clip and slice as nice as any righty,
    But the fact remains they always ride the bench.
    There’s something of the mighty underdog
    About those unsung rookies overlooked
    By every scout, and all they need is one
    Chop at the plate to prove beyond a doubt
    They won’t strike out. Instead, they bide their time
    With grace, while righty fans sneer, sinister,
    And boo. How do the ambidextrous test
    Their heft? Left out, left over, left alone,
    They still could split the team and field their own,
    Decide it scissors, paper, fist, or stone,
    The only just and right way left to go.


    Copyright 2010 by Steven Withrow. All rights reserved.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Utter Stillness
    By Liz Korba
    Silence
    I have heard you – in my lifetime -
    Only once,
    White
    To the horizon
    In the Arctic Circle air.
    A frozen lake,
    An empty sky,
    As nothing stood
    So full
    And all was
    Still.
    And still it is
    That you,
    Not I,
    Speak
    What it is
    To hear the sound
    You bear.

    ReplyDelete
  9. FAN SPEAK

    I am a fan
    of cool air,
    not celebrity,
    that sirocco
    of no talent.
    Mine is movement,
    a small clanking
    that pushes
    gusts, tempers,
    temperatures,
    into the lower realms.
    You cannot see
    what I do,
    but you will feel it,
    that brief kiss
    of cool,
    that moment
    when heat
    is one short letter
    away from heart.

    ©2010 by Jane Yolen All rights reserved

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  10. Hi, Tricia,
    I've been emailing you to prep for our upcoming NCTE session together, but I'm worried that my emails are not finding you. Could you contact me asap please? Thanks bunches,
    Sylvia

    ReplyDelete
  11. Hi, Tricia,
    Thanks for your email. Just want to confirm that I replied to it and hope it's coming through. Plus, feel free to delete these comments once we've connected! Thanks for your patience.
    Sylvia

    ReplyDelete