Fresh Flowers: A Prayer of Spring

As I picked the first spring flowers from my gardens today I remembered this poem by Robert Frost. I found it this evening and reread it. Frost is one of my favorite poets. He can take a subject all of us understand and weave his words in such a way that makes us think about it in a slightly different way. That is another reason I like poetry.

A Prayer in Spring

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.

Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,
Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;
And make us happy in the happy bees,
The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.

And make us happy in the darting bird
That suddenly above the bees is heard,
The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,
And off a blossom in mid air stands still.

For this is love and nothing else is love,
The which it is reserved for God above
To sanctify to what far ends He will,
But which it only needs that we fulfil. 

Robert Frost

A Fresh Look at White

The poem today gives you a fresh look at white. I took this photo today. As we were driving the whiteness of the building glowed way down the road.

White on White

Rug dropped sugar,
fresh, wet iris on marble dresser,
the chopping of combers under cold sun,
   rain-faded boards of proud, paint-
      poor churches, great

      dumb snows hiding
inside clouds hidden inside sky. Bring
two together and we see the old lot
   of language to ledger tint
      from tone, hint from
      whisper (not quite
sauterne, closer to crisper champagne);
to cite complement, how as a snail stains
   a cement path, the pearled trace
      kindles in light.

Hailey Leithauser

Portrait of the Moment: Photography and Poetry

When I did poetry reading today I came across this poem by Ikeda. I don't know the title of the poem, but know that it caused me to examine some of my own photos. I love his line" portrait of the moment". The photo above was a moment I was thankful I had my camera in my hand as I looked across the lake.

A single photograph
—portrait of the moment—
is an inexhaustible epic,
a living tale beyond words
superior to a hundred volumes
written and fixed. 

A photograph
is consciousness painting,
the instant’s art that opens
on the unbounded vistas
of the inner life. 

Daisaku Ikeda

What The Living Do

About six years ago I was at a teacher conference and the presenter gave us this poem to read using  the reading strategies we had learned. I was partnered with a guy that obviously didn't like poetry and probably didn't want to be there. Our discussion didn't go far, but I was struck by the poem. I returning home and revisiting this poem numerous times. I later learned Marie Howe lost her brother to AIDs .  The poem made more sense. I love the fresh approach to living. I have always been drawn to poems that help us remember the ordinary things like Drano, spilled coffee, or buying a hairbrush.

WHAT THE LIVING DO

by Marie Howe

Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably fell down there.

And the Drano won't work but smells dangerous, and the crusty dishes have piled up

waiting for the plumber I still haven't called. This is the everyday we spoke of.

It's winter again: the sky's a deep, headstrong blue, and the sunlight pours through

the open living-room windows because the heat's on too high in here and I can't turn it off.

For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street, the bag breaking,

I've been thinking: This is what the living do. And yesterday, hurrying along those

wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my wrist and sleeve,

I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: This is it.

Parking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called that yearning.

What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want

whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss--we want more and more and then more of it.

But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass,

say, the window of the corner video store, and I'm gripped by a cherishing so deep

for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I'm speechless:

I am living. I remember you.

Happy April: Fresh Start

Happy April. I have set a goal to post every day this month. April is National Poetry Month which means I will post a poem or something related to poetry each day. I am also joining NaBLoPoMo with the theme: Fresh.

I shouldn't have any problems find topics to post this month. Spring air, clothes on the line, budding flowers all spell fresh to me. Fresh writing ideas and a fresh outlook. I also look forward to finding some fresh poems I haven't shared. If you want to visit the archives of my poetry selections from past years, just click on my Aprils. I hope to find time this week to revisit those archives myself. I am off to a fresh start on my blog so check in later for a poem posting.

The Taste of Happiness

I am continuing my exploration of happiness. How can the taste of food not make you happy? Food evokes memories of Sunday dinner, signature mac and cheese recipes, best dinners cooked by Mom, and favorite foods from a restaurant. Aren't you filled with happiness when you think of foods that are part of your life's landscape? 

For me it is Mom's homemade bread, Grandma Woolum's fried chicken, Grandma West's apple pies, Auntie Lila's Swiss Steak, sister Carol's Christmas Eve dinners from around the world, and my own Orange Marmalade Cake.  Tastes that always stay with me are the first cherries from Sherman Creek Orchard in July, our first ripe tomatoes from our garden, the first new peas and potatoes in cream sauce, and fresh peaches off the tree. 
I found this poem a few years ago when I was doing a unit on Happiness with my students. Food usually gets students thinking of memories also.

The Taste of Happiness

What's your favourite flavour
Your number one taste
Something so yummy 
You dare not let waste
What great food sensation
Salt, bitter, sour or sweet
Excites your tastebuds like crazy
Has everything else beat

If there was only one
You could not live without
What flavour would you choose
Be sure now, no doubt

Sometimes it's the simplest
Of foods that we crave
Bread and butter, tripe and onions
No, come on now behave

I'm talking 'bout

A freshly cut pineapple
To eat on the beach
Sun ripened strawberries
Or a freshly picked peach
Double choc chip ice cream
Awash With caramel sauce
Freshly made pepperoni pizza
Draped in mozzarella of course
Cool refreshing lemon sorbet
A hot Mexican chilli dish
Roasted salted cashew nuts
Sea bass, salmon, tuna fish
Olives stuffed or otherwise
Stilton, Camembert and Brie
Fritata topped with goats cheese
Spinach and ricotta Cannelloni

But,

If you really had to choose only one
You could undeniably not live without
What lip-smacking, palate-drooling flavour
Is irresistible beyond all doubt?

Pauline Oliver

What foods create memories of happiness for you?