Jeanne Poland's Poetry Blog
27 Apr 2017 1 Comment
in Poetry, Titles from Sunflower Splendor: Three Thousand Years of Chinese Poetry Tags: daffodils, firflies, honeysuckle, Luminous Winds Flicker in the Moon rise, moths, pirouettes, tendrils, Titles from Sunflower Splendor: Three Thousand Years of Chinese Poetry
This year my list of titles comes from Sunflower
Splendor: Three Thousand Years of Chinese Poetry.
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Luminous winds flicker in the moon rise
Scents of honeysuckle
Licks of daffodils
Luminous winds flicker in the moon rise
Dancing pirouettes
Twisting tendrils
Luminous winds flicker in the moon rise
Zig zag fireflies
Iridescent moths
Luminous winds flicker in the moon rise
Strobe lightning
Slithering shadows
In the moon rise, luminous winds flicker
26 Apr 2017 1 Comment
in Everything you didn’t understand Made you what you are. Charles Simic in “Evening Talk” in The Book of Gods and Devils, Poetry Tags: art by Koessler, dust to glory, energy, Everything you didn’t understand Made you what you are. Charles Simic in “Evening Talk” in The Book of Gods and Devils, fantasy, foreign, giggles, harrumphs, invisible friends, scents, ticklish momrnts, transforms mystery to mystery
art by Koessler
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Everything you didn’t understand made you what you are:
the fantasy worlds in books
the giggles and harrumphs
the ticklish moments
the invisible friends
the angels in disguise
the foreign culture’s manifestations
the tongues and their languages
the scents that stuck to you
the energy that entered your cells
and transforms in spite of you
mystery to mystery
And so you step on
from dust to glory!
25 Apr 2017 Leave a comment
in Poetry
less body ; more spirit
Crazy Wisdom came to the party:
sat in the lowest seat
listened with an open heart
recognized ritualized nonsense
understood antimatter and Sufi poetry
paradox, puns and pie fights,
laughed at politicians.
He flipped the world upside down and backward
until everything became perfectly clear.
(Wes Scoop Nisker)
He knew:
To remain whole, be twisted.
To become straight, let yourself be bent.
To become full, be hollow!
(Tao Te Ching)
24 Apr 2017 1 Comment
in Poetry, What I Believe In Tags: art by Terese Robeson, inDays We Would Rather Know, Michael Blumenthal, no one gets all of the darkness, remarry, the air consoles you, the land belongs to someone else, the stronger the soul, time goes on without clocks, we all drown in a sea of our own making, What I Believe In, whatever pulls us under will do so gently
art by Teresa Robeson
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in Days We Would Rather Know
by Michael Blumenthal
I believe that a scorpion’s sting
will kill a man,
but that his wife will remarry.
I believe that, the older we get,
the weaker the body,
but the stronger the soul.
I believe that if you roll over at night
in an empty bed,
the air consoles you.
I believe that no one is spared
the darkness,
and no one gets all of it.
I believe we all drown eventually
in a sea of our making,
but that the land belongs to someone else.
I believe in destiny.
and I believe in free will.
I believe that, when all
the clocks break,
time goes on without them.
And I believe that whatever
pulls us under,
will do so gently.
so as not to disturb anyone,
so as not to interfere
with what we believe in.
21 Apr 2017 1 Comment
in Mirror, Mirror mutter more..., Poetry Tags: laughter and tears, Mirror, mirror mutter more..., shine goodwill, slide me across the floor, tooth-filled smiles
selfie with iPhone on 4/21/2017 Sedona Arizona
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Mirror, Mirror mutter more…
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Mirror, mirror mutter more
Slide me smooth across the floor
Light my highlights with your glow
Shine goodwill for all to know.
Merely me-with tooth-filled smiles
Knowing well the many miles
Behind the 76 odd years
The laughter and the tears.
20 Apr 2017 1 Comment
in I curtsy before you..., Poetry Tags: Annika, hilarious, I curtsy before you..., Jan Hutchinson, jch, Jeanne, make a fat person joke, manners, Pamela Alexander, real or absurd, silence, silk stockings, Tony Hoagland, William Stafford
photo by Jeanne (painted by Annika)
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Instead of composing my own poem about “manners” today, I want to share these hilarious bits from other poets. These are today’s prompt from Jan Hutchinson.
Manners Prompt
Write a poem made up of suggestions (real or absurd) for
appropriate manners or behavior in specific situations. You might
talk about being taught manners. Or you might simply entitle your
poem “Manners” and go somewhere unexpected.
Carrie says it’s more rude to stare at a blind man on the street
than to make a fat person joke about someone on TV.
Tony Hoagland
If someone you know
who died long ago
appears to you in dream,
it is rude to point out to them
that they are actually already dead.
jch
…silence is always good manners
and often a clever thing to say
when you are at a party.
Tony Hoagland
in “Social Life”
Style
Mary June’s brother Willard always had
just a certain corner of his handkerchief
hanging out of his hip pocket. That was
my first intimation of a personal style.
My hair wouldn’t comb down; so
every night for years I wore
one of Aunt Klara’s silk stockings
pulled firmly on top of my head.
When we had company my mother was always
afraid I would swing my soup spoon
toward me rather than away. And I was to
leave a little, not scraps like a dog at the last.
These glimpses of decorum in my early life
have fitted me for success. My manners,
my neat handkerchief, and my tame haircut
have seen me through everyday encounters with society.
William Stafford
in The Way It Is
Manners
Sit, she said. The wolf sat. Shake, she said.
He held his face and tail still
and shook everything in between. His fur
stood out in all directions. Sparks flew.
Dear sister, she wrote. His yellow eyes
followed the words discreetly. I have imagined
a wolf. He smells bad. He pants and his long tongue
drips onto the rug, my favorite rug. It has arrows
and urns and diamonds in it. The wolf sits
where I’ve stared all morning hoping
for a heron: statuesque, aloof,
enigmatic. Be that way, the wolf said.
There are other poets.
Pamela Alexander
in Inland
18 Apr 2017 Leave a comment
in Letter to Spirits, Poetry Tags: Christ Church, divorced, Father John, fiery flame of purity, glory, honor, in my dream, John Poland, laud, Letter to Spirits, merging of cultures, not penance, preists give me hugs and kisses, Richmond Hill, The Lustenrings, timeless and equal, total acceptance, translation of Babel, wedding under the "el"train
my photo of Father John @ Christ Church- Hudson NY
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In my dream…
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priests give me hugs and kisses. None of them require I genuflect, or do penance for forgiveness.
The Lustenrings rush from
the wedding under the ‘el’ train on Jamaica Avenue in Richmond Hill to see Aunt Jeanne even though she and John Poland divorced after 17 years.
The gay nephew recalls my total acceptance of his unconventional choices. He divides his wealth 50/50 and finds a new partner who is also accepted as is.
Apparently, the spirit world is like that: timeless and equal. A circle of acceptance and honoring. A fiery flame of purity, a translation of Babel, a merging of cultures.
All the additions to the family welcome its newest siblings to give glory, laud and honor.
It’s like going to sleep and rebooting. Being held. Wrapped. carried as one.
I await patiently the revelation of glory.
The Vibrant Channeled Creator 
I apologize…
19 Apr 2017 2 Comments
by jeannepoland in I apologize..., Poetry Tags: balance my appetites, bigger than the chair, brighter than the palette, how I integrate, I apologize..., I seem a recluse, immune to comments, louder than the group, overwhelmed with stimulation, privacy is my #1 priority, slower than the game, taller than the dress
Jeanne Poland-Selfie (iPhone 6+)
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I apologize…
that I’m bigger than the chair
taller than the dress
slower than the game
louder than the group
brighter than the palette
overwhelmed with stimulation
immune to comments
and irrelevant opinions.
sorry that privacy is my #1 priority
and that I seem a recluse
for that is how I process
and integrate my intuition
and balance my appetites
(one of which is you!)
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