April's Reminder to Enjoy Poetry

Photo credit:  Lyn Fenwick

 I don't know who is authorized to declare such things as "April is Poetry Month,...,"  but it raises a question that sounds like something Billy Collins might use to start a poem.

"It occurred to me

on a flight from London to Barcelona

that Shakespeare could have written

'This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England'

with more authority had he occupied

the window seat next to me

instead of this businessman from Frankfurt."

Excerpt from The Bard in Flight

Robert Frost said, "A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness."  However, not every poet finds inspiration in the same way.

Photo credit:  Lyn Fenwick, "Day After the 4th of July, Waiting for the Trash Man" 

In 1955, Beat Poet Allen Ginsberg was inspired to write "A Supermarket in California."

"What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for I walked

down the side streets under the trees with a headache self-conscious

looking at the full moon.

In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the 

neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations!"

Ginsberg's inspiration may not have been so different from that of Langston Hughes, who said, "I tried to write poems like the songs they sang on Seventh Street...," the block in Harlem where Hughes lived in NYC.

New Generations

Years ago, my husband and I went to a poetry reading where we heard Maxine Kumin read, and in her book that I bought that day is a poem titled, "For My Great-Grandfather:  A message Long Overdue,"  in which she describes the inspiration for the poem.

"...Great-Grandfather, old blue-eyes fox of foxes,

I have three pages of you.  That is all.

1895.  A three-page letter

from Newport News, Virginia, written

on your bleached-out bills of sale under the stern

heading:  Rosenberg The Tailor, Debtor,

A Full Line of Goods Of All The Latest In

Suiting And Pants.  My mother has just been born.

~   *   ~

You write to thank your daughter for the picture

of that sixth grandchild.  There are six more to come."

When I determined to share the journal of Kansas homesteader Isaac Werner at the center of history of the Populist Movement, it was a poem by Walt Whitman that inspired the structure of my book, "Prairie Bachelor."  Isaac's journal did not inspire me to write a poem, but a poet inspired me to structure the history of the Populist Movement through the eyes of a forgotten Kansas homesteader, and to begin the book with a funeral.

Photo credit:  Lyn Fenwick

Poetry comes in many forms, as the short selections I have chosen for this blog illustrate, and poems touch our lives in many ways.  Not everyone appreciates the same poems, nor must each person experience the same poem in the same way.  In his poem, "Music," Ralph Waldo Emerson finds music

"...not only in the rose."

"It is not only in the bird,

Nor only where the rainbow glows,

Nor in the song of a woman heard,

But in the darkest, meanest things

There alway, alway something sings."

Whatever poetry you enjoy, the annual reminder each April offers the opportunity to pull those neglected poetry books off the bookcase.  A poem might be just what you need during this unnatural season of Covid isolation. 

    

Author of the Prairie

Isaac Werner's Homestead Claim Today

It will come as no surprise to those of you who follow my blog that I love Willa Cather.  She was not a Kansan, but she didn't miss it by much, since she spent much of her youth in southcentral Nebraska.  She was born December 7, 1873 in Virginia, but in 1883 when Willa was only ten years old, the family arrived in Nebraska.  The farm on which they first settled was about 20 miles north of the Kansas border, but a year and a half later they moved 16 miles south to Red Cloud.  From a prairie farm to a prairie town, Cather came to know and love the prairie, and that love is revealed in much of her writing.

Somewhere I read an unattributed quote that goes like this:  Anyone can love the beauty of the mountains, but it takes someone special to love the prairie.  Cather certainly loved both and used both in her books, but she had a special feeling for the prairie.  That is why I wish more Kansans would read Cather.  Our state is not often the featured landscape for novelists, but the prairie is featured in many of Cather's short stories and novels, as is occasionally our state.

Some of those to whom I have recommended Cather have found the pace of her stories too slow.  It is true that they aren't action filled.  But, part of that is the result of her attention to setting, character, and particularly to descriptions of nature.  I might paraphrase the quote above:  It may be easier to love a book filled with action and adventure, but it is worth immersing yourself in a book filled with deep explorations of characters and setting.

Willa Cather

So, why is my New Years blog about Willa Cather?

During the era of covid-19, many of us have found ourselves at home, away from activities that would usually occupy our time.  Several of my friends have mentioned turning to books.  Perhaps this is a good time to try Willa Cather.

Although I have read all of her novels and many of her short stories, there remain stories that I have not read.  An internet friend and writer has created The Willa Cather Short Story Project, in which followers have the opportunity/challenge to read a Cather short story a month.  I signed up!  All of the stories are available at the Willa Cather Archive on line, so it is not necessary to buy any books.  Those who sign up can simply read along or can comment.  As my friend who has originated the project says:  "The point is to read Willa Cather with pleasure, whatever that looks like for you."

Photo credit:  Lyn Fenwick

Which brings me back to my particular love for Cather...for I just finished one of the short stories, "The Clemency of the Court," from which the following quote is taken.

The love of the plains was strong in him.  It had always been so, ever since he was a little fellow, when the brown grass was up to his shoulders and the straw stacks were the golden mountains of fairy land.  Men from the cities on the hills never understand this love, but the men from the plain country know what I mean.

This New Years blog is about using the opportunity that staying at home offers to read some of those books you have put off reading.  I know that many of you are already doing more reading than usual, but might it be fun to direct your reading in a particular way--to organize a personal project that you would enjoy during this unusual confinement at home.  I did that earlier with my marathon reading of all the Harry Potter series, and that was fun.  Maybe you have a set of Churchill's World War series or Sandburg's Lincoln that has been gathering dust.  Maybe it is poetry you prefer, and you could read a poem a day.

I understand that for some of us, the annual New Years resolution to go on a diet is needed this year more than ever! but maybe reading is a good way to keep your mind off the refrigerator too!  I will be reading Cather short stories as my resolution.  As I often do with my New Years post, you are invited to share your resolutions with me!

More Poetry for Children, Number 2

Tumbling Tumble Weeds on the Prairie

Time for the second week recognizing poetry, so here is another poem for April's Poetry Month.  It is a more traditional poem, and many of you may already be familiar with it.  Even if you do not know the poem, you probably know the poet, A. A. Milne, of Winnie the Pooh fame.

While Kansas may not have had many trees on the prairie when Isaac arrived, one thing it had in abundance was WIND.  Most of the settlers with homes made of wood did not insulate them well.  The strong winds drove dirt in summer and snow in winter right into the houses, and even if there was no snow in winter, the wind drove the severe cold into the houses.

Isaac wrote in his journal about newcomers to the prairie failing to prepare well for winter and complaining of frost bitten toes and feet even before the worst of winter arrived.  Although the dugouts had other problems--like snakes and bugs--they were snugger shelters during winter and cooler in the hot months.

Kansas children should enjoy this poem by A. A. Milne, called Wind On The Hill,   

and they can certainly relate to the subject.

Wind On The Hill
by A. A. Milne

No one can tell me,
Nobody knows,
Where the wind comes from,
Where the wind goes.

It's flying from somewhere
As fast as it can,
I couldn't keep up with it,
Not if I ran.

But if I stopped holding
The string of my kite,
It would blow with the wind
For a day and a night.

And then when I found it,
Wherever it blew,
I should know that the wind
Had been going there too.

So then I could tell them
Where the wind goes...
But where the wind comes from
Nobody knows.*

*(In case you read this to a child who argues the conclusion of the poem--and children today accustomed to evening weather reports and ongoing coverage during hurricanes may very well--here is a more technical explanation. Wind is caused by differences in the atmospheric pressure.  Air moves from the higher to the lower pressure area, creating movement and wind.)

April is Poetry Month Again - Number 1

By now, those of you who follow the blog know that Isaac Werner loved Shakespeare.  I think he would have approved of my using his blog to share some poetry this month.

What makes me sad is that children sometimes learn that poetry must be read (or recited) in a sing-song way, pausing at the end of every line.  That isn't true.

David McCord had three rules:  Good poems for children are never trivial.  As for the poet, poems should never be written "without the characteristic chills and fever of a dedicated man at work."  In addition, poems written by adults for children "must never bear the stigma of I am adult, you are a child."

When McCord was 12 years old his family lived on his uncle's farm on the edge of a wilderness.  He said that it was there where he learned:  "Poetry is rhythm, just as the planet Earth is rhythm; the best writing, or poetry or prose--no matter what the message it conveys--depends on a very sure and subtle rhythm."

However, he did not mean the reader had to read dah-da, dah-da, dah-dum.  I will share his poem, Every Time I Climb a Tree.  Here are my suggestions:  The first stanza has no punctuation until the end.  Interpret that as permission to feel your own rhythm and use pauses and full stops where they seem natural.  The first three lines are identical.  Read them with a different word emphasized in each line.

The next stanza gives you the opportunity to mimic a typical adult in the second line, to break up the other lines in which the child is speaking.

The third stanza seems to want the first three lines run together, with a break before the fourth line.

That gives you some idea about how I think this poem flows, but the last stanza try where it feels right for you to pause, emphasize words, stretch words out, and make the words sound spoken, without any artificial rules or stopping at the end of each line.

I know that most of you are readers and may be passionate about poetry too, but for those a lttle intimidated about poetry, give this a try!

Make poetry fun for kids to hear and to recite, and they may come to love their favorite poems almost as much as Isaac Werner loved Shakespeare!

Every Time I Climb a Tree

David McCord

Every time I climb a tree

Every time I climb a tree

Every time I climb a tree

I scrape a leg

Or skin a knee

And every time I climb a tree

I find some ants

Or dodge a bee

And get the ants

All over me.

And every time I climb a tree

Where have you been?

They say to me

But don't they know that I am free

Every time I climb a tree?

I like it best

To spot a nest

That has an egg

Or maybe three.

And then I skin

The other leg

But every time I climb a tree

I see a lot of things to see

Swallows rooftops and TV

And all the fields and farms there be

Every time I climb a tree

Though climbing may be good for ants

It isn't awfully good for pants

But still it's pretty good for me

Every time I climb a tree.

Of course, many of you remember that Isaac claimed a timber claim, as well as a homestead.  Before he got his horse, tending trees was his primary task.  At least one of his trees was big and strong enough for him to climb with a borrowed camera to try to take an "aerial" shot of his farm.  It was too windy to keep the old glass-plate camera steady long enough!

Share your stories and the stories of your tree-climbing children and grandchildren, and let me know if they like the poem.

Another Look at Poetry

Visiting the grave of Emily Dickinson 

It has become my tradition to remember the importance of Poetry in April.  Those of you who are regular followers of the blog may remember my post inspired by a reading given by Kansas Poet Laureate (2013-2015) Wyatt Townley.  It was my friend Shirley who invited me to join her at the Kinsley Library to hear Ms. Townley read some of her poetry at an event sponsored by the Kansas Humanities Council (KHC).

Two specific things were the direct result of my participation in that KHC sponsored event.  First, I tend to write poetry in spurts, a genuine amateur who lacks the discipline to sit down regularly and wait for the muse to whisper in my ear.  Rather, some sight or sound or thought will inspire me, and the result will be another poem added to my ever-growing notebook.  Wyatt Townly inspired me that day with her own poetry, her enthusiasm, and a challenge to try a form of verse I had never heard of, and consequently, had never tried to write.  The Cinquain consists of five un-rhymed lines of poetry with a strict adherence to the number of syllables per line:  2/4/6/8/2.  Each Kansas Poet Laureate develops some project to encourage an appreciation for poetry, and Townley encouraged Kansans to write a cinquain about their state.  Each month she selected a cinquain to be published as part of her regular poetry columns printed in newspapers across the state.  One month, mine was chosen to be published.  My cinquain that was selected by Wyatt Townley for recognition appears below.

Summer

Lightning

Bugs at twilight,

Juicy watermelon

On the lawn, serenaded by

Crickets.

Wyatt Townley at Kinsley

At that time I was serving on the Board of the Vernon Filley Art Museum in Pratt, KS, and the second direct result of hearing Townley was my recommendation that we invite Wyatt Townley to speak and read her poetry to our Legacy Arts Supporters.  She was nearing the end of her two-year appointment as Poet Laureate, but she managed to fit an evening into her schedule.  Frankly, there were those whose enthusiasm for inviting Wyatt did not quite match mine; however, the evening was a huge success--among the most enthusiastic fans by the closing poem were some of those who had worried the most about how well a poetry reading would be received!  Of course, it doesn't hurt that Wyatt Townley is an excellent speaker as well as a fine poet, but the doubters in the audience that night learned that poetry, well-read, can be a compelling experience.  Wyatt Townley even sold out some of the volumes she had brought to make available at the end of her presentation!

Recently, I received an e-mail from Wyatt and three other past Kansas Poet Laureates--Denise Low (2007-09), Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg (2009-2013), and Eric McHenry (2015-2017).  The message reminded Kansans that in 2016 KHC had provided over 700 free programs to nearly 400,000 people in all 6 sections of our state.  The current cost-cutting threat to the National Endowment for the Humanities (NEH), which costs the average American 50 cents a year according to the e-mail, is the primary support for many humanities programs in Kansas and other states.  

Robert Service "The cremation of Sam McGee"

The e-mail pointed out that the Kansas Poet Laureates average 50 public appearances a year at colleges and schools, but primarily small-town libraries and community centers, with the travel stipend they receive paid entirely by private donors--like those who paid expenses when Wyatt visited the Filley.  (It should be noted that, in turn, Wyatt spent that stipend for lodging, fuel, and other purchases in the Pratt community in connection with her visit.  The benefits to the community were economic as well as cultural.)  The NEH funding of the Kansas Humanities Council funds the staff that supports the Poet Laureate program, a program with a national reputation for excellence.

The number of "closet" poetry fans is surprising.  We had a friend who could launch into the recitation of long narrative poems with the slightest encouragement.  Our niece, who has been engaged in a brave battle with cancer for several years, finds solace and courage in poetry and is sometimes inspired to write her own.  Humorist Garrison Keillor shares his love for poetry on NPR; former President Kennedy's daughter, Caroline, has published a book of her favorite poems for children; young parents recite nursery rhymes to babies who will carry on the tradition to their own children in an unbroken generational chain...  Traditional, un-rhymed, humorous--the list of poetry that people enjoy is endless.  

So, as I tend to do each April, I encourage you to pick up a book of poetry this month--if you have forgotten how much enjoyment and inspiration poetry holds, or pick up a pencil and exercise your own talents for poetry which you have allowed to lie dormant.  And while you are thinking about it, you might consider speaking out in support of the importance of the arts and humanities to the nation.  We must not realize the individual and national importance of those things only too late--when they are already gone...

(Just for fun, I challenge you to write your own cinquain about April or Spring, or whatever inspires you, and send it as a Comment to this blog post or directly to me.  Teachers, challenge your students of all ages to write a Cinquain.  Remember:  five lines with specific syllables in each line--2, 4, 6, 8, 2.  It's about the creative discipline of imagery and feeling within the strict limitations of syllable counts.  I'm curious to see if any of you will take the challenge!) 

Poetry of the Prairie

William Cullen Bryant

It has been my habit during April Poetry Month to devote a blog to poetry.  You may visit the blog archives for past years in April to read those posts.  This year I will share poetry of the Prairie, beginning with the opening of William Cullen Bryant's long poem, "The Prairie."

These are the gardens of the Desert, these/ The unshorn fields, boundless and beautiful,/ For which the speech of England has no name--/The Prairies.  I behold them for the first,/ And my heart swells, while the dilated sight/ Takes in the encircling vastness.  Lo! they stretch,/ In airy undulations, far away,/ As if the ocean, in his gentlest swell,/ Stood still, with all his rounded billows fixed,/ And motionless forever. --Motionless?--/ No--they are all unchained again.  The clouds/ Sweep over with their shadows, and, beneath,/ The surface rolls and fluctuates to the eye;/ Dark hollows seem to glide along and chase/ The sunny ridges.  Breezes of the South!/ Who toss the golden and the flame-like flowers,/ And pass the prairie-hawk that, poised on high,/ Flaps his broad wings, yet moves not--ye have played/ Among the palms of Mexico and vines/ Of Texas, and have crisped the limpid brooks/ That from the fountains of Sonora glide/ Into the calm Pacific--have ye fanned/ A nobler or a lovelier scene than this? 

Photo by Lyn Fenwick

The style of this poem by Bryant, although rather archaic, captures the imagery of the prairie so beautifully that you may wish to read the full poem online.  It was written in 1832, as a result of his first visit to the prairies.  In a letter to his wife Bryant wrote:  "What I have thought and felt amid these boundless wastes and awful solitudes I shall reserve for the only form of expression in which it can be properly uttered."

Laurie Ricou opens her essay, Prairie Poetry And Metaphors of Plain/S Space with a quote from Stephen Scobie's McAlmon's Chinese Opera:  "Gertrude Stein says/ you have to have flown across the Mid-West/ seeing the patterns of the fields/ to understand modern painting./  What I say is/ you have to have walked that land/ a whole Dakota afternoon/ to understand modern writing."

Photo by Lyn Fenwick at Homestead Monument

Ricou's interesting essay examining the prairie influence and imagery can be read online, but I will share one more example.  I was particularly taken by Garry Raddysh's description of the wind, so familiar to all of us who live on or have visited the prairie:  "...the wind/ in agony/ as it struggles/ not to take root/ in the prairie."  I love the way he flips my normal way of thinking about the wind--as the thing that threatens to rip everything from its moorings on the ground--into something struggling against the power of the prairie.

It is the traditional power of wind that Myrae Roe depicts in her poem Udall, Kansas, May 25, 1955, about a powerful tornado.  "...homicidal winds bent on fostering hell./  Dawn covered the awful result with pale light./  Silence wandered like a ghost/ amid uprooted trees planted a hundred years ago... Reporters and cameramen hastened into the town/ to find their story.  Amid the ruins/ one of them wrote, 'The little town of Udall/ died in its sleep last night.'"    

Roe's poem was published at the poetry blog "Kansas Time + Place."  You can subscribe online to receive poems weekly by Kansas poets currently writing and publishing their poetry