
Geneen Roth lives with messy and magnificent
Let the ashes settle
then ride the phoenix
the shooting, quiet stars in the moonlit calming light
Jeanne Poland's Poetry Blog
10 Jun 2020 Leave a comment
in Poetry, Settling, Tags: ashes settle, calming, calming night, Geneen Roth, in the moonlight, magnificent, messy, quiet stars, ride the phoenix, Settling,, shootin

Geneen Roth lives with messy and magnificent
Let the ashes settle
then ride the phoenix
the shooting, quiet stars in the moonlit calming light
09 Jun 2020 Leave a comment
in Genius Tester for Jeanne, Poetry Tags: 20/20, cogency, eager power of observation, Genius Tester for Jeanne, geography, inquisitiveness, IQ, perceptiveness, run your mind on multiple levels, share, superior abilities to reason, travel

Answer the questions for a personal IQ test!.
Mine was totally gratifying!
08 Jun 2020 Leave a comment
in Fussing, Poetry Tags: a great deal of humor, be creative, demanding, fighting, Fussing, grab a pandemic attitude, honest, John Stevens, outrafeous, sensual, tenderness, unaccustomed grace, ways you feel about yourself

Calligrapher: John Stevens
instead of fussing, try tenderness:

by Geneen Roth
Instead of fighting, try being creative!

Grab a pandemic attitude!
06 Jun 2020 Leave a comment
in Hearts of Stone, Poetry Tags: break stone-take love, bring pain, Hearts of Stone, no no no no, please, stop your love, take all your love, this song fortold your life, you know herts made of stone
On February 5, 1955, the most popular song was “Hearts of Stone” by the Fontane Sisters
You can hear and see it on U-Tube at:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4x_Dem0JbWM
It’s possible this song told you how your life would be…
Hearts made of stone
Will never break
For the love you have for them
They just won’t take
You can ask them please
Please please please break
And all of your love
Is there to take
Yes, hearts of stone
Will cause you pain
Although you love them
They’ll stop you just the same
You can ask them please
Please please please break
And all of your love
Is there to take
But they’ll say no no no no no no no no no no no no no
Everybody knows
I thought you knew
Hearts made of stone
Yes, hearts of stone
Will cause you pain
Although you love them
They’ll stop you just the same
You can ask them please
Please please please break
And all of your love
Is there to take
But they’ll say no no no no no no no no no no no no no
Everybody knows
I thought you knew
Hearts made of stone
05 Jun 2020 Leave a comment
in Poetry, stormy sky Tags: batter me, burn my eye, clear sky, illustrator, Marcin Piwowarski, same sea scrolls, sting my skin, stormy sky, the wind and the sea

illustrator: Marcin Piwowarski
the wind and the sea
batter me – sting my skin – burn my eye
clear sky : same sea scrolls
03 Jun 2020 Leave a comment
in Poetry, the Howl by Allen Ginsberg Tags: angel headed hipsters, angry fix, by Allen Ginsberg, cold water flats, contemplating jazz, illuminated, Madness, Mohammedan angels, naked, negro streets, poverty, starving, supernatural darkness, tatters, the howl

Allen Ginsberg was made famous by his poem: “Howl” in Octobet of 1955 in
San Francisco.
“Howl,” at the Six Gallery Reading —
the poem that begins with the lines:
“I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness,
starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn
looking for an angry fix,
angel headed hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection
to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed high sat up
smoking in the supernatural darkness
of cold-water flats
floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El
and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement
roofs illuminated.”
02 Jun 2020 Leave a comment
in frog vs toad, Poetry Tags: frog vs toad, frogs are more romantic and sing, Julia Rohan Zoch, nothingness, place them on a table, Plains Spadefoot Toadby Tom Hennen, pretty eyes, rely on their wits, the toad and I have not moved, thirty -fourhours, toads live twice as long, toads smarter than frogs, which will jump?, whispering peepers
Julia Rohan Zoch

Julia Rohan Zoch
Plains Spadefoot Toad
by Tom Hennen
Toads are smarter than frogs. Like all of us who are not good-
looking they have to rely on their wits. A woman around the
beginning of the last century who was in love with frogs wrote
a wonderful book on frogs and toads. In it she says if you place
a frog and a toad on a table they will both hop. The toad will
stop just at the table’s edge, but the frog with its smooth skin
and pretty eyes will leap with all its beauty out into nothing-
ness. I tried it out on my kitchen table and it is true. That may
explain why toads live twice as long as frogs. Frogs are better at
romance though. A pair of spring peepers were once observed
whispering sweet nothings for thirty-four hours. Not by me.
The toad and I have not moved.
Tom Hennen, “Plains Spadefoot Toad” from Darkness Sticks to Everything: Collected and New Poems. Copyright © 2013 by Tom Hennen.
01 Jun 2020 Leave a comment
in For Bed Not Car, Poetry Tags: and gring my teeth, and make me cry, attacking!, but more for bed, But not while I am driving, erst glands of milk for suckling held secure, For Bed Not Car, hold thembizarre, not car, please, see stars that call to me to sparto bursting, The busts are driving; busy busts, with your busts, you mar their use, You might burst my busts first curse them, You must grab my breast as it is soft

For Bed Not Car
You must grab my bust
as it is soft
But not while I am driving,
please.
The busts are driving, busy busts!
You might burst my busts
first curse them…
erst glands of milk
for suckling held secure
but more for bed, not car
you mar their use…hold them bizarre
and make me cry and grind my teeth
see stars that call to me to spar to bursting!
with your busts, attacking!
31 May 2020 Leave a comment
in Poetry Tags: he did say, I am charged with untold and untellable wisdom, I am silent, I require nothing more, of the people who regard themselves as the custodians of the morals of the world.", pervades us, shortly before he died, surrounds us, that sex was "the thing in my work which has been most misunderstood — that has excited the roundest opposition, the common man, the good gray poet, The poet who captured the spirit of the United States, the sharpest venom, the subtle air ...the impalpable holds ua, the unintermitted slander, Walt Whitman, when my love sits with me and holds my hand, wisdom

“Of the Terrible Doubt of Appearances” by Walt Whitman.
When he whom I love travels with me or sits a long while
holding me by the hand,
When the subtle air, the impalpable, the sense that words and
reason hold not, surround us and pervade us,
Then I am charged with untold and untellable wisdom, I am
silent, I require nothing further,
It’s the birthday of Walt Whitman (books by this author), born in West Hills, Long Island, New York (1819). Whitman worked as a printing press typesetter, teacher, journalist, and newspaper editor. He was working as a carpenter, his father’s trade, and living with his mother in Brooklyn, when he read Ralph Waldo Emerson’s essay “The Poet,” which claimed the new United States needed a poet to properly capture its spirit. Whitman decided he was that poet. “I was simmering, simmering, simmering,” Whitman later said. “Emerson brought me to a boil.”
Whitman began work on his collection Leaves of Grass, crafting an American epic that celebrated the common man. He did most of the typesetting for the book himself, and he made sure the edition was small enough to fit in a pocket, later explaining, “I am nearly always successful with the reader in the open air.” He was 37 years old when he paid for the publication of 795 copies out of his own pocket.
Many of Whitman’s poems were criticized for being openly erotic. One of Whitman’s earliest reviews had called the book “a mass of stupid filth,” accusing Whitman of “that horrible sin not to be mentioned among Christians.” But rather than censoring himself, Whitman added 146 poems to his third edition.
He began to grow a literary reputation that swung from genius to moral reprobate, depending on the reader. Thoreau wrote, “It is as if the beasts spoke.” Willa Cather referred to Whitman as “that dirty old man.” Emerson praised Whitman’s collection as “the most extraordinary piece of wit and wisdom America has yet contributed,” and the critic William Michael Rossetti proclaimed that Whitman was a talent on par with Shakespeare.
Whitman left New York when his brother was wounded in the Civil War, traveling to Virginia and then to Washington, D.C., to serve as a volunteer Army hospital nurse. He had a reputation for unconventional clothing and manners. He wrote, “I cock my hat as I please, indoors and out.” With the help of well-placed friends, Whitman eventually found work as a low-level clerk in the Department of the Interior. But when former Iowa Senator James Harlan discovered Whitman worked in his department, he had him dismissed, proclaiming Leaves of Grass was “full of indecent passages,” and that Whitman himself was a “very bad man” and a “free lover.”
Whitman’s friend William Douglas O’Connor immediately came to his defense. He arranged for Whitman to be transferred to the attorney general’s office, and he published a pamphlet refuting Harlan’s charges. Titled The Good Gray Poet: A Vindication, the small book praised Whitman’s “nobleness of character” and went on to quote from positive reviews — and to ridicule Harlan as an under-read philistine.
The pamphlet became more than a vindication: it helped to radically alter the average reader’s perception of Whitman as both a writer and as a man: Out with the image of the bawdy nonconformist and in with the “good gray poet,” the nickname for Whitman that is still popular to this day.
Whitman spent the last 20 years of his life revising and expanding Leaves of Grass, issuing the eighth and final edition in 1891, saying it was “at last complete — after 33 y’rs of hackling at it, all times & moods of my life, fair weather & foul, all parts of the land, and peace & war, young & old.”
Today, most scholars agree that Whitman was likely gay. When he was asked directly, toward the end of his life, Whitman declined to answer. But he did say, shortly before he died, that sex was “the thing in my work which has been most misunderstood — that has excited the roundest opposition, the sharpest venom, the unintermitted slander, of the people who regard themselves as the custodians of the morals of the world.”