" One of the greatest gifts my brother and I received from my mother was her love of literature and language. In this anthology, I have tried to include poems that reflect things that were important to her- a spirit of adventure, the worlds of imagination and nature, and the strength of love and family."- Caroline Kennedy in the introduction to The Best-Loved Poems of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis.
This anthology is a favorite of mine because of the mixture of poems collected that span from the Old Testament to Shakespeare, John Keats, Walt Whitman, and Robert Frost just to name a few. There are poems that celebrate America, verses read to children, poems of love and romance, and a collection penned by Jackie herself. I learned the following poem as a worship song, but the words express much by themselves.
Prayer for Peace
St. Francis of Assisi
Lord, make me an instrument of Your Peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love,
Where there is injury, pardon,
Where there is doubt, faith,
Where there is despair, hope,
Where there is darkness, light,
and where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, grant that I may
not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;
To be understoon, as to understand;
To be loved, as to love;
For it is in giving that we receive,
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
4/6/10
4/5/10
Top Ten Things I Love About the Methow Valley
2. Getting reacquainted with Molly's Soaps. When I lived in the Tri-Cities Molly always had a booth at the Allied Arts Fair. Molly led me back to her handmade soaps in Winthrop!
3.The Trail's End Bookstore in Winthrop. Read about it here.
4. The Cinnamon Twisp Bakery in Twisp.
5. Discovering the Back Country Coffee Roaster's Buck Mountain Blend. It "takes you out of the rut".
6. The Methow, Twisp, and Chewack Rivers.
7. Early Winters Campground.
8. The new beverage holders at the Mazama Store.
9. The North Cascades and
10. Lost River Cabin, JEJ, and the dogs.
I think Shelby got a bit tired of sightseeing!
3.The Trail's End Bookstore in Winthrop. Read about it here.
4. The Cinnamon Twisp Bakery in Twisp.
5. Discovering the Back Country Coffee Roaster's Buck Mountain Blend. It "takes you out of the rut".
6. The Methow, Twisp, and Chewack Rivers.
7. Early Winters Campground.
8. The new beverage holders at the Mazama Store.
9. The North Cascades and
10. Lost River Cabin, JEJ, and the dogs.
I think Shelby got a bit tired of sightseeing!
April is National Poetry Month: Fixers
The anthology I have chosen today is The Way It Is, New and Selected Poems by William Stafford. This collection combines previously unpublished poems written close to his death and selections from previous books. I had not read much of William Stafford's poems until I heard him speak with his son Kim at a NCTE conference about twenty years ago. After that day I was a loyal follower of his work. I really like the second section of this book that includes in order the last poems he wrote before his death in 1993. There are poems about family, other poets, history of place, nature, and retirement. The following selection is an example of how Stafford can depict everyday people that we recognize and have known all our lives.
Fixers
On back roads you can find people
who keep machinery alive. With a file,
a wrench, a hammer they scrape, twist
and pound until the old tractor wakes up
or the plough bites again into the ground.
I've bullied rusty iron and made it
remember what to do, and once on a back road
I put out a fire under the hood of a car;
but these greasy geniuses have to conjure
miracles day after day just to keep going.
Often their audience is a customer eager to
get started again, or maybe their little daughter
watching how Daddy fixes things. And sometimes
only an old dog-wise in when to jump aside-
studies mechanics and barks when The Master says,
"There!"
-William Stafford
Fixers
On back roads you can find people
who keep machinery alive. With a file,
a wrench, a hammer they scrape, twist
and pound until the old tractor wakes up
or the plough bites again into the ground.
I've bullied rusty iron and made it
remember what to do, and once on a back road
I put out a fire under the hood of a car;
but these greasy geniuses have to conjure
miracles day after day just to keep going.
Often their audience is a customer eager to
get started again, or maybe their little daughter
watching how Daddy fixes things. And sometimes
only an old dog-wise in when to jump aside-
studies mechanics and barks when The Master says,
"There!"
-William Stafford
4/4/10
April is National Poetry Month: 100 Poems to Lift Your Spirits
The third anthology I am going to feature this month is one I purchased a few years ago on a spring break trip to Lake Chelan. This collection was a nice companion on that trip and one I pull out when I need my spirits lifted. When Leslie Pockell edited this collection she organized the poems by Nature, Nonsense,Spirituality, and The Human Connection. There are old favorites like " To Autumn" by Keats and "Daffodils" by Wordsworth to modern classics such as "Dawn Revisited" by Rita Dove and "Filling Station" by Elizabeth Bishop.
The memory of the poem I am going to share today was not as a poem, but a song. I sang these words in Junior Choir at the United Church in Kellogg as a child. I don't know if I sang it during Eastertime, but the words seem to fit today.
The memory of the poem I am going to share today was not as a poem, but a song. I sang these words in Junior Choir at the United Church in Kellogg as a child. I don't know if I sang it during Eastertime, but the words seem to fit today.
Maker of Heaven and Earth (All Things Bright and Beautiful)
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.
Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colours,
He made their tiny wings.
The rich man in his castle,
The poor man at his gate,
God made them, high or lowly,
And ordered their estate.
The purple-headed mountain,
The river running by,
The sunset, and the morning,
That brightens up the sky;
The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,
He made them every one.
The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
We gather every day;--
He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell,
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.
Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colours,
He made their tiny wings.
The rich man in his castle,
The poor man at his gate,
God made them, high or lowly,
And ordered their estate.
The purple-headed mountain,
The river running by,
The sunset, and the morning,
That brightens up the sky;
The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,
He made them every one.
The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
We gather every day;--
He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell,
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.
by Cecil Frances Alexander
4/3/10
April is National Poetry Month: Heart to Heart
Since I discovered Heart to Heart edited by Jan Greenberg at a bookstore five years ago it has been a favorite anthology. The book is a celebration of twentieth century art which inspired the collection of poems. Forty-three American poets were commissioned to each choose a work of art then write a poem about it. The book displays the colorful works of art next to the composed poems. I couldn't pick a favorite, but here is one that I have used with my students as a way to use powerful word choice to depict the American experience. I love the lines " Spread an easel of colors... On fifty pieces of scissored history" . Lovely imagery. Enjoy.
Map
by J. Patrick Lewis
Brash canvas,
Bleeding borders,
Kindled calm,
This is oxymoronicamerica,
Forged out of iron and lace
By people strapping and raw,
Who wrestled and pinned history
To the map.
Happy as a circus boy,
Spirited as an outlaw,
Rough as a gandy dancer,
This continent of tinted steel
Spread an easel of colors
On fifty pieces of scissored history-
And painted itself a self.
Map
by J. Patrick Lewis
Brash canvas,
Bleeding borders,
Kindled calm,
This is oxymoronicamerica,
Forged out of iron and lace
By people strapping and raw,
Who wrestled and pinned history
To the map.
Happy as a circus boy,
Spirited as an outlaw,
Rough as a gandy dancer,
This continent of tinted steel
Spread an easel of colors
On fifty pieces of scissored history-
And painted itself a self.
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