FAVORITE POEM #15

painting by Debbie Neill

End of April

Under a cherry tree
I found a robin's egg,
broken, but not shattered.

I had been thinking of you,
and was kneeling in the grass
among fallen blossoms

when I saw it: a blue scrap,
a delicate toy, as light
as confetti

It didn't seem real,
but nature will do such things
from time to time.

I looked inside:
it was glistening, hollow,
a perfect shell

except for the missing crown,
which made it possible
to look inside.

What had been there
is gone now
and lives in my heart

where, periodically,
it opens up its wings,
tearing me apart.


- Phillis Levin

How 'bout that for an appropriate end to National Poetry Month? The poem is extra-special to me because of the person who first shared it with me. Amazing how flat words on a page can take on incredible dimensions when they are linked to an actual human experience. That's the whole point, after all.... to connect, to share, to be bound by words.

And tomorrow it's on to May. Lots going on in these parts. I'll keep you posted. Meanwhile, thanks for reading!

FAVORITE POEM #14

Celebrate National Poetry Month!!

Today I am lifting an original poem from fellow poet-blogger Khaled's site. Khaled is passionate about poetry and he pulls off something in this poem that I strive for: poignancy AND humor. I love how this one makes me smile.

Our relationship was
full
long
straight
smooth

and for a change
curly
trimmed
highlighted
reddish

and with time
short
thin
grayish
in need of conditioner

Why are you staring at me now that I am bald
and why
are you holding those scissors?

- Khaled KEM

Speaking of smiles, I've been invited to do a little segment on a local tv station.

When I told my youngest son I was wondering what I should wear, he said, "wear what you wore yesterday!" Which was a nice teal-colored top and actually the very thing I thought of! And how amazing that he even remembered what I wore the day before, much less imagined that it would be a good choice for television??

My husband, who was listening, leaned over and whispered in my ear, "and you wish you had a girl."

LOVE that boy.

FAVORITE POEM #13

Celebrate National Poetry Month!!

Today's favorite poem is from YA writer R.A. Nelson, author of TEACH ME, BREATHE MY NAME and the forthcoming DAYS OF LITTLE TEXAS. He says he has many favorites that tend to shift and change with time. Here is one of his current faves:

Pied Beauty

Glory be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spáre, strange;
Whatever is fickle, frecklèd (who knows how?)
With swíft, slów; sweet, sóur; adázzle, dím;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is pást change:


Práise hím.

- Gerard Manley Hopkins

Russ says, "What I love about this poem is how it recognizes beauty in all its wondrous forms...not just the large and dazzling, but the small, subtle, even forgotten or ignored. Beauty is everywhere -- the universe is a creation beyond imagining...a gift which greets us each day if we will only allow it to do so.

I love how this poem fits in the mouth...I love the feel of its clicking consonants juxtaposed against the assonance, all the internal similarities of sound. I love how in such a short space Hopkins manages to catalog so many wonderfully diverse, yet subtlety connected concrete images. And the first time (and every time thereafter) that I ever read the poem, the last two lines suddenly turned the whole thing so sharply (and rapturously) outward toward the infinite and the size of the blessings we have been bequeathed, that it made the little hairs stand up on the back of my neck. Praise him, indeed."

Is anyone else noticing a theme here?? Yes, beauty is everywhere. Even in the small things. Maybe with poetry, especially in the small things.

Quick update:
1. Took kids to see their first live comedy show -- James Gregory. So fun to see them laugh so hard! My face actually hurt from laughing by the time it was over.
2. Limestone Dust Poetry Festival was inspiring, as ever. So many great poets in the world!
3. Our a/c is not working. Of course this would happen the first day the mercury hits 90 degrees for 2009.
4. Poetry Month is coming to a close. I've got two more events in celebration: a school visit to Inverness Elementary and a presentation at Hoover Senior Center. Then it's over for another year. Looking forward to May flowers!!

FAVORITE POEM #12

Celebrate National Poetry Month!!


"Spotted Flowers on a Tabletop" oil on canvas in artist's painted frame 35.25" x 29.25" x 1.5" $2400

Today's favorite comes from amazing writer/artist Sarah Rakes, creator of the gorgeous painting above. Check out more of her paintings at Marcia Weber's online gallery.

Returning to Earth

I'm getting very old. If I were a mutt
in dog years I'd be seven, not stray so far.
I am large. Tarpon my age are often large
but they are inescapably fish. A porpoise
my age was the King of New Guinea in 1343.
Perhaps I am the king of my dogs, cats, horses
but I have dropped any notion of explaining
to them why I read so much. To be mysterious
is a prerogative of kingship. I discovered
lately that my subjects do not live a life,
but are life itself. They do not recognize
the pain of the schizophrenia of kingship.
To them I am pretty much a fellow creature.

- Jim Harrison

Sarah says, "Jim Harrison uses sharp images to expresses the everyday sacred and takes common verbs and turns them into royalty." And isn't that exactly what we writers strive to do?

FAVORITE POEM #11

Celebrate National Poetry Month!!

Because I LOVE love poems, and I happen to write them as well, people often ask me to reveal my most favorite love poem. It's an impossible task, of course, because love is such a great subject, and there are so many many ways to experience it. So today I give you ONE of my favorite love poems, by the amazing Sharon Olds.

TRUE LOVE

In the middle of the night, when we get up
after making love, we look at each other in
complete friendship, we know so fully
what the other has been doing. Bound to each other
like mountaineers coming down from a mountain,
bound with the tie of the delivery-room,
we wander down the hall to the bathroom, I can
hardly walk, I wobble through the granular
shadowless air, I know where you are
with my eyes closed, we are bound to each other
with huge invisible threads, our sexes muted exhausted, crushed, the whole
body of sex-surely this
is the most blessed time of my life,
our children asleep in their beds, each fate
like a vein of abiding mineral
not discovered yet. I sit
on the toilet in the night, you are somewhere in the room,
I open the window and snow has fallen in a
steep drift, against the pane, I
look up, into it,
a wall of cold crystals, silent
and glistening, I quietly call to you
and you come and hold my hand and say
I cannot see beyond it. I cannot see beyond it.

- Sharon Olds

I love being married, love "each fate/like a vein of abiding mineral/not discovered yet." And yes, that feeling: "I cannot see beyond it."

photo found here

FAVORITE POEM #10

Celebrate National Poetry Month!!

Today's poem comes from Helen Keller. Yes, you read that right: Helen Keller. She cited this poem as her current favorite in her autobiography, which I have just now finished reading. And it seems especially appropriate as tomorrow I am taking my father to Ivy Green, the place of Helen's birth.

THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS

This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign,
Sails the unshadowed main,--
The venturous bark that flings
On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings
In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings,
And coral reefs lie bare,
Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.

Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl;
Wrecked is the ship of pearl!
And every chambered cell,
Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell,
As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell,
Before thee lies revealed,--
Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed!

Year after year beheld the silent toil
That spread his lustrous coil;
Still, as the spiral grew,
He left the past year's dwelling for the new,
Stole with soft step its shining archway through,
Built up its idle door,
Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.

Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee,
Child of the wandering sea,
Cast from her lap, forlorn!
From thy dead lips a clearer note is born
Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn;
While on mine ear it rings,
Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:--

Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,
As the swift seasons roll!
Leave thy low-vaulted past!
Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,
Till thou at length art free,
Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!

- Oliver Wendell Holmes

FAVORITE POEM #9

Celebrate National Poetry Month!!



Today's poem is the favorite of dear sweet Kirie at Three Little Chickies. I am a big fan of Kirie's, so it should come as no surprise that I am a big fan of her favorite poem.

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

- Mary Oliver

Kirie says this: "Mary Oliver's 'Wild Geese' is a poem that I am compelled to read again and again. I wrote about it in a post on my blog and said it's like a mantra for me. It is. I think the authoritative voice that Oliver uses is hugely powerful, and she speaks a message of acceptance that resonates with me. When I first read this poem, it was as though I had been waiting to hear such an exhortation my entire life; I sighed as though I had laid down a burden. When I feel isolated or overly critical of myself, I revisit this poem."

Quick Update:
1. Loved WICKED. Scandalicious!
2. Will be in Montgomery for Alabama Book Festival.
3. Am so sad to be missing book club! The girls are awesome and I was looking forward to the discussion about The Reader.
4. Lebanese Food Festival is also this weekend. Bring on the hummus and kibbee and stuffed grape leaves!

FAVORITE POEM #8

Celebrate National Poetry Month!

Today's favorite poem comes from poet-blogger Susan(who is participating in NaPoWriMo -- check her out!), and it is written by Mary Oliver, who happens to be one of my most favorite poets.

Mindful

Every day
I see or hear
something
that more or less
kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle
in the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for -
to look, to listen,
to lose myself
inside this soft world -
to instruct myself
over and over
in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,
the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant -
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,
the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help
but grow wise
with such teachings
as these -
the untrimmable light
of the world,
the ocean's shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?

- Mary Oliver

Susan has this to say about this poem's impact on her life: "I feel validated when I read this poem. It is not idleness that causes one to lose herself in the moment, but rather a keen perception. And the title - what a perfect title: Mindful. I try to be. I strive to be more so. This poem is a reminder to live with my heart open."

I agree with Susan -- it is so important to be open to the universe and the experience of life. To listen.

Speaking of listening... I got in the mail from dear sweet Deb this beautiful red journal with these words emblazoned on the cover: "She listened to her heart above all other voices." Thank you, my friend!!

FAVORITE POEM #7

Celebrate National Poetry Month!



The sitter

Mrs. McTwitter the baby-sitter,
I think she's a little bit crazy.
She thinks a baby-sitter's supposed
To sit upon the baby.

-Shel Silverstein

Those of you who know me know my first poetic love was Shel Silverstein. Naturally I've done my darnedest to pass this along to my children. And lo and behold, the above poem is son Eric's most favorite poem. It's funny, and he loves the drawing. Also, he had a babysitter once upon a time whom he adored and still talks about from time to time. (As far as I know she never sat on him!)

Quick update: For years it has been our family tradition to go fishing on Easter Sunday. This year we are spending the day with my grandparents instead. (The fish will wait.) Also, I've been de-cluttering. Flylady, anyone? And at night I've been reading Skin Hunger by Kathleen Duey. My older sons both loved this book, and that's really the only recommendation I need. (Nice that it was a National Book award finalist as well.)

FAVORITE POEM #6

Celebrate National Poetry Month!

Today's favorite poem comes from my father. He has always loved poetry and is one of my most fervent supporters. And he is a poet, too, although he would never call himself that.

When I asked him what his favorite poem was, he said he thought his choice would surprise me. But it didn't at all. Because, over the many years and unbeknownst to him, he has given me three separate editions of this particular book. I've chosen to share with you one of the many sections he highlighted:

Pain


And a woman spoke, saying, "Tell us of Pain."
And he said:
Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.

Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.

And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;

And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.

And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.

Much of your pain is self-chosen. It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.

- Kahlil Gibran

FAVORITE POEM #5

Celebrate National Poetry Month!


Auguries of Innocence

To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.

(click here for the rest of the poem)

- William Blake

Sun van Zyl of South Africa says according to her diaries, this is her favourite English poem,particularly the first four lines.

She also says this: "I have always surrounded myself with questions about the everything and the nothing of life and the why, but there is a truth in reaching the point of stillness, the point of looking at the now and everything that it stands for, the beauty and the essence of existence. My life would not have been this rich if my eyes were not opened to seeing the awe of the simple things and the complicated things through simple sight. And to realize we are creation and we hold life in our hands and we should respect it always gives us a measure of hope."

And to realize we are creation and we hold life in our hands and we should respect it always give me a measure of hope. LOVE.

Check back later this month for one of Sun's favorite original poems!

Quick update:
1. Finished reading The Underneath by Kathi Appelt to my 9 year old. He said it was his favorite book ever !!
2. Zipped copyedits off to editor. Whew!
3. Having tea today with three other Tenners. Tea, I tell you! Mmmmmm.....

Photo found here.

FAVORITE POEM #4

Celebrate National Poetry Month!

Her Longing


Before this longing,

I lived serene as a fish,

At one with the plants in the pond

The mare’s tail, the floating frogbit,

Among my eight-legged friends,

Open like a pool, a lesser parsnip,

Like a leech, looping myself along,

A bug-eyed edible one,

A mouth like a stickleback,—

A thing quiescent!



But now—

The wild stream, the sea itself cannot contain me:

I dive with the black hag, the cormorant,

Or walk the pebble shore with the humpbacked heron,

Shaking out my catch in the morning sunlight,

Or rise with the gar-eagle, the great winged condor,

Floating over the mountains,

Pitting my breast against the rushing air,

A phoenix, sure of my body,

Perpetually rising out of myself,

My wings hovering over the shorebirds,

Or beating against the black clouds of the storm,

Protecting the sea-cliffs.


- Theodore Roethke


I have Doraine at Dori Reads to thank for introducing me to this poem... but I did not know she would claim it as her favorite. Here's what she has to say: "John Gaynor Banks says that desire is 'part of the Atomic energy of the soul.' Leanne Payne says, 'Desire the great things.' It’s so easy to squelch our desires, so freeing when we allow ourselves the gift of longing. I love Roethke’s images here. Before-- frogbit, a lesser parsnip, a stickleback. And then, longing releases that atomic energy and becoming is realized. Beautiful!"

I couldn't agree more. Thanks, Doraine!

FAVORITE POEM #3

Celebrate National Poetry Month!


STARS


Alone in the night

On a dark hill

With pines around me

Spicy and still,



And a heaven full of stars

Over my head

White and topaz and misty red;



Myriads with beating

Hearts of fire

That aeons

Cannot vex or tire;



Up the dome of heaven

Like a great hill,

I watch them marching

Stately and still,.

And I know that I

Am honored to be

Witness

Of so much majesty.


- Sara Teasdale



Jim Reed, who is editor of Birmingham Arts Journal and owner of Reed Books and a dear friend of mine says, "More than any poem of childhood, 'Stars' captures the intense pleasure of facing the universe alone and knowing that one is not really alone. Its crisp, unpatronizing use of words both familiar and exotic gives the reader hope that this night on a hill might be repeated many times as needed, through a long and unknown future life."

I wish y'all could hear Jim read this one. Gorgeous.

Quick Update: As of yesterday's scan, MY FATHER IS CANCER-FREE!! Thanks for all your thoughts and prayers. "Survivor" really is a beautiful word.

FAVORITE POEM #2

Celebrate National Poetry Month!

THE LANGUAGE

Locate I
love you some-
where in

teeth and
eyes, bite
it but

take care not
to hurt, you
want so

much so
little. Words
say everything.

I
love you
again,

then what
is emptiness
for. To

fill, fill.
I heard words
and words full
of holes
aching. Speech
is a mouth.


- Robert Creeley

The Storialist , who is an amazing blogger-poet, loves this poem by Creeley because...

"[the poet] wonders about the connection between words, speech, meaning, and emotion. I first read this poem over a decade ago, and fell hard for its halting, haunting lines. I love this poem (and Creeley's writing, in general) for its longing, simplicity, and playfulness. This is one of the two poems that I have memorized (and have recited unsolicited to friends), and I am eternally inspired by Creeley's ability to end his poems with understated gravity."

Three cheers for understated gravity! Definitely something to aspire to as poets.

FAVORITE POEM #1

April is National Poetry Month.

To celebrate, I'm hosting a virtual "My Favorite Poem". Modeled after Robert Pinsky's Favorite Poem Project, all my April posts will include someone's favorite poem and a few words about why that poem is important to them personally.

Today it is my pleasure to share with you MY favorite poem. Or at least one of them.

A Secret Life

Why you need to have one
is not much more mysterious than
why you don't say what you think
at the birth of an ugly baby.
Or, you've just made love
and feel you'd rather have been
in a dark booth where your partner
was nodding, whispering yes, yes,
you're brilliant. The secret life
begins early, is kept alive
by all that's unpopular
in you, all that you know
a Baptist, say, or some other
accountant would object to.
It becomes what you'd most protect
if the government said you can protect
one thing, all else is ours.
When you write late at night
it's like a small fire
in a clearing, it's what
radiates and what can hurt
if you get too close to it.
It's why your silence is a kind of truth.
Even when you speak to your best friend,
the one who'll never betray you,
you always leave out one thing;
a secret life is that important.

- Stephen Dunn

The first time I read this poem, it left me breathless. It said all the things I felt but hadn't yet found the words for. At the time, writing was my secret life. I squirreled my poems and stories away in stacks and drawers and not a soul read them. I knew exactly what Dunn was talking about when he said it was like a small fire in a clearing. I loved the poem because it gave me permission to continue my secret life, to nurture it, to celebrate all the things about me that are just mine.

Wishing all of you happy healthy secret lives. And if you'd like to be a part of this project, please contact me as soon as possible.

WHEN IN FLORENCE

I have lived in Birmingham for nearly 25 years now, and I am embarrassed to say that until this weekend I had never ventured into the very lovely northwest part of the state that includes Florence, Muscle Shoals, Tuscumbia and Sheffield - otherwise known as the Quad Cities. My amazing hostesses were Pat Weaver and Sheila Renfro, and among other things, we visited Helen Keller's birthplace, which is called Ivy Green. While there, I decided the next poem in the historical women series will be about Helen, from the perspective of her dog.

See? Writers simply MUST travel.



Pat welcomed me into her home AND The Barn, where I got my horse fix. It had been about five years since my last ride, so she put me on Dixie and we took off on the trail. I swear, I had forgotten what it is like to canter and feel that rush of wind through the hair. Plus it was dusk, and we walked through a creek or two... absolutely gorgeous.



On Saturday morning, Pat took me for a surprise, and what a surprise it was. Ever heard of The Wall? Well. Tom Hendrix who is an amazing storyteller has built a memorial for his Euchee ancestor Miss Mary. Mary was removed to Oklahoma (Trail of Tears) and miraculously made the journey back to Alabama, all by herself, so she could be in a place where the rivers sing. Tom's goal has been to put one stone for every one of Mary steps. It's an amazing spiritual place, and I am still completely moved by the experience.

Go. You won't regret it.



And finally there was the Schmooze, which was the whole excuse for the trip. I was delighted to serve on a panel with Rachel Hawkins and Lindsey Leavitt, and of course connect with all the wonderful writers in the room. What an excellent way to spend a Saturday afternoon.



Special thanks to Pat. I'm so glad to know you.

SHOWCASE SUNDAY

The Nina Remembers Columbus

Three sisters, but I was the one he loved best.

His wife? She may have borne him a son
but I taught him to swim in possibility.
I baptized him in a hundred oceans
and introduced him to the New World.

He favored me, ask anyone.
Voyage after voyage we sailed, my ropes
taut in his hands, his boots claiming my deck,
his voice a booming song to lift my sails.

For him, I conquered warring currents,
discovered Cuba and placed him upon her shore,
delivered him from the eye of a hurricane.
And when he dropped anchor

I did not cry like the open-mouthed gulls.
I counted each bruising stroke as he rowed
away in his launch, then waited for his return
with the patience of wood.

My sisters, they meant nothing to me.

- Irene Latham

Here's another poem in the historical women series -- one that also appears in the Einstein anthology. One way I've found to liven this series up is to choose to write the poems from an odd viewpoint. And since ships are always female, I figured the Nina was fair game.

I'll be back tomorrow with a report about my awesome weekend in Florence, including the names of two new victims I've chosen for the continuation of the historical women series. (See, writers simply MUST travel! It's totally inspiring.)

“There are no foreign lands. It is the traveler only who is foreign.”

- Robert Louis Stevenson

MY LIFE IN PRINCESSES

When I was six years old I loved Cinderella. It wasn't so much the Fairy Godmother as her beautiful transformation... and all the birds and mice and squirrels working together to sew a gorgeous blue dress. Plus she was blonde, with blue eyes. Like me.

I also loved this book, THE PRINCESS AND THE GOBLIN by George MacDonald. The princess' name was Irene. Need I say more?



My sister, on the other hand, adored Sleeping Beauty. Probably the blonde hair and green eyes had something to do with it. And the fact that she was born beautiful... as was my sister. And now her daughter, my niece, calls this princess "Sleeping Booty." Which I think is maybe the most adorable thing I have ever heard in my entire life.



When we were teenagers both my sister and I loved THE PRINCESS BRIDE. We dreamed of a Wesley all our own. And you know what? We got our Wesleys.



A decade later I gave birth to my third baby boy, and I had no idea what to name him. We settled on Eric, which happens to be the name of Ariel's prince.



Then today I took the Which Princess Are You? quiz at Facebook, and I got none of the above. I got the kind of princess who doesn't let a little thing like gender get in her way. One whose story started out as a poem. And for whom love and honor and loyalty are things worth fighting for. She doesn't look a thing like me on the outside. But on the inside...



And I can't write a post about princesses without mentioning Lindsey Leavitt, author of the forthcoming PRINCESS FOR HIRE. Lindsey is also one of my fellow panelists at Saturday's What to Expect When You're Expecting a Book in Florence, Alabama, along with cool chick Rachel Hawkins, author of HEX HALL.

Y'all come!

WHAT POETS LOOK LIKE

Meet the Big Table Poets: Shannon Smith, Barry Marks, Tom Gordon, Jerri Beck, Suzanne Coker, Seth Tanner, Robert Boliek and me

Quite the eclectic group, wouldn't you say? Our work is just as varied as our appearances... our day jobs and family circumstances too. Just to dispel any misconceptions or stereotypes that might be lingering out there in the world. :)

"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."

- Albert Einstein

FIRST DAY OF SPRING

So I'm thinking the only thing better than spring...
is fall.

But that's a ways off, so I'm really enjoying the Bradford pear trees all in bloom and the azaleas and the tiny redbuds. The weather's been gorgeous here, and so many good things are happening.

Like the poetry reading tonight at Christenberry Planetarium. It's our big release party for EINSTEIN AT THE ODEON CAFE, and I will be reading two poems. I'm especially excited because Hubby and kids will all be there. With our crazy family schedule, that just doesn't happen all that often. So, yeah, looking forward to that.

It's also the anniversary of my mother-in-law's death. It's been a difficult year in so many ways, but a year later it feels like we have moved through the transition. Our memories of her are overwhelmingly joyful -- sadness is always there but isn't crippling the way it was for a while. So today we will spend some time celebrating her life and talking about all the ways we loved her.

And despite travel and spring break and other craziness, I have managed to maintain my 1000 word a day diet. A group of us started on March 9, and we'll go through April 9. So far I haven't missed a day. What's especially great is that it feels good to me - 1000 words feels absolutely do-able without a tremendous strain on the rest of my life. I might just keep it up AFTER the thirty days.

On the reading front, I just completed THE READER by Bernhard Schlink and THE SENATOR'S WIFE by Sue Miller. The problem with THE READER is that I saw the movie. And if you've read the book, you know it is very straightforward. And the screenplay followed the book very very closely. For once, I preferred the movie version. And I gotta wonder if this is because I saw the movie first??

THE SENATOR'S WIFE was one of those books where I really wanted to see what happened to the characters, but I wasn't all that wild about it... until the end. Here are the last words in the book: "But what she would have told Delia if she had had the words then for what she has come to feel over the years, what she would have said - and she would swear that this is true- is that she did what she did with Tom that day for love. Out of love."

Happy happy spring to everyone!

SHOWCASE SUNDAY

Black Shawl Remembers Crazy Horse

The old ones like to say
memory is like riding a trail
at night with a lighted torch.
And so it does not surprise me
that your face has been swallowed
by darkness, your voice black as
the wounded wings of a crow.

But sometimes the torch flares,
illuminating the way your body
folded itself against mine,
how the last time you loved me
you dipped your thumb in red paint
and covered the part in my hair,
marking me a woman greatly loved.

When the rattlesnake came into
the lodge, you could not crush it.
And you couldn’t save our daughter
from the white man’s coughing disease.
In the end, the Black Hills were lost, too -
the heart of everything that is.

I wasn’t your only wife. But I am
the one who remembers. I whisper
your name and it drifts as snow
across the prairie, then melts
and is gone.

- Irene Latham

This one is another from the new anthology. I wrote it after visiting the Crazy Horse monument, then reading a few books. I loved South Dakota so much that we are going back this summer. And my father is meeting us there. Can't wait!

THE KINDNESS OF BLOGGERS

When I went out to get my mail today, I found inside an ordinary brown box this bit of loveliness:



When I unwrapped it, I found this wonderful book about poet William Stafford:


And this delicate origami butterfly:



And these wonderful hand-made fleur-de-sel caramels:


And inside the book, this:


And it all came from a beautiful person I would never have known if not for blogging. I mean who does things like this any more, such thoughtful, personal, tender things? Only the most giving of spirits. I am touched and honored and most grateful to call her "friend" -- thanks Kirie. "And all my love."

E IS FOR EVERYMAN

I think most readers would agree that we read first and foremost for the characters.

I know for me the best stories are the ones where I can slip into that character's skin and BE him or her. And the ones I like best are the everyman characters who are common people -- people like me -- who have been thrust into extraordinary circumstances. This is where the act of reading a book becomes a personal experience. Because I can imagine myself as Alice falling and falling down the rabbit hole. I can hear the wolves howling through the walls of the little house on the prairie. I can love Edward with the same intensity Bella does and feel her self-consciousness in the face of such beauty.

So, while we as writers often want to make our characters quirky, I think it's really important to remember to not make them so quirky that people can't relate to them. They need to have faults -- faults that directly impact the story. They need to make mistakes. They need to be human.

"A life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing."

- George Bernard Shaw

INTERVIEW AT JUVENESCENCE

Fellow Tenner Christy Raedeke, who is so gracious and wonderful and has a 2 book contract with Flux, has been posting an interview series of debut authors, and today I'm up. (How's that for a super-long, excited sentence?) Check out the interview here . And while you're there, read some of Christy's off-the cuff stories. If her books are anything like her blog, they are sure to entertain. Can't wait to read 'em!


"Today was good. Today was fun. Tomorrow is another one."

- Dr. Seuss

SHOWCASE SUNDAY

The book is here! The book is here!

It is my pleasure to introduce the latest anthology from the Big Table Poets which includes 7 of my poems as well as poems by Jerri Beck, Robert Boliek, Suzanne Coker, Tom Gordon, Barry Marks, Shannon Smith and Seth Tanner.

For the next few weeks I will share the poems that appear in the book, starting with a revision of a poem I've shared here before. I'm telling you, a poem is never DONE.

Einstein’s Daughter

Had she been clock or apple,
compass or moving train, perhaps
Einstein wouldn’t have given her away.

Had she been mysterious, he might
have abandoned his obsession
with gravity and the speed of light,

claimed her as his most important
discovery. Had he taken her small hands,
just once, kissed each dimple and nail

perhaps he would have puzzled
over a different theory of relativity:
not E=mc2

but the riddled twist of DNA.
Perhaps he would have discovered
how shared time multiplies,

how love’s abstractions find
definition in story time and bath time
and leaving the light on, just in case.

- Irene Latham

"Half my life is an act of revision."

- John Irving

UN PEU FRANCAIS

When I didn't win this book in La Belette Rouge's contest, I put it on my birthday list, and that sweet husband of mine wrapped it right up and gave it to me just before I blew out all those candles.

I've been to the top of the Eiffel Tower, and I took two years of French in high school, and I love to cook French food... but FRENCH WOMEN DON'T SLEEP ALONE by Jamie Cat Callon was still full of wonderful tidbits I knew nothing of. I love the cultural emphasis on beauty and the rejection of our American either/or "right time and place" for sensuality. Every single experience can be sensual, and the French know this. I am completely inspired to further infuse my life with sensuality, to really explore and experience every little bit of life in the most complete way possible.

So, yeah, good read. Charming, in fact. Check it out.

"I sort of have a love affair with my work. Many of us work far too hard and we don't put enough value in the epicurean, sensual part of life."

- Kim Cattrall

MY NEW COVER!!!

THE FURNITURE OF HOME

I love plays. There is something about the live performance that moves me. And I have great admiration for people who write plays, particularly ones that move me. Which is why I was absolutely thrilled to meet Alabama Shakespeare Festival's playwright-in-residence Elyzabeth Gregory Wilder.

Elyzabeth was in town promoting her latest play, The Furniture of Home. It's set in Bayou la Batre, Alabama, on the one year anniversary of Katrina. She said this play is about family, about whether to go or stay. And if it's anything like her amazing play Gee's Bend, I know it will be an emotional experience.

Also of interest: Elyzabeth has been making her living as a playwright for two years now. This particular play was commissioned by Alabama Shakespeare Festival, and it's her second take, after throwing out the first. She said the only thing that remains of that first take is the title Furniture of Home and a blue chair.

See? All writers struggle. It's all a process. Every single word.

By the way, the play's title was inspired by a line from an Auden poem entitled "September 1, 1939." I love it when writers are inspired by poetry.

"It isn't where you came from; it's where you're going that counts."

- Ella Fitzgerald

MELISSA! NO MAKE THAT MOLLY!

Wha????

Sure didn't see that coming...

SNOW DAY

We woke up this morning to a wonderland. The kids are beside themselves, and I wish you could hear it... the soft patter of flakes, the squeak of shoes on snow, the squeals of the four-year-old across the street.

It's especially beautiful because it happens so seldom here in Birmingham. Life is like that, you know? It's the rare-ness that gives a thing it's value.

Now, gotta go listen some more. And make some snow cream.

"A rare experience of a moment at daybreak, when something in nature seems to reveal all consciousness, cannot be explained at noon. Yet it is part of the day's unity."

- Charles Ives

13,880 DAYS

That's how long I've been alive. And thinking of it in days really changes my perspective. It makes me realize how very important each and every day is.

Want to know how old YOU are in days? Check out Peter Russell's way-cool website. There's also a 3 minute meditation there that's awesome. And to think I didn't even know Peter Russell existed until I read an article by Michael Shapiro about Mr. Russell in Ode Magazine, my absolute favorite mag. (The subtitle is "FOR INTELLIGENT OPTIMISTS." Really great stuff every month.)

"They say that time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself."

- Andy Warhol

D IS FOR DANGER

It's a strange thing writing a book. We create characters we grow to really love, and sometimes that makes it hard for us to do all the terrible things to them that we really must do if the story is going to work.

There must always be something at stake. And it must be something BIG, like life or death. As difficult as it is, we must put our characters in serious danger, so that the reader cares enough to see what happens next. And it's through this sort of danger that our characters evolve and overcome (or not) the awful circumstances that we, the evil awful author has thrust them into.

In my book LEAVING GEE'S BEND, the main character sets off for Camden to fetch the doctor for her deathly-ill mother. Only she's never been out of Gee's Bend before. And the only way out of Gee's Bend is by ferry. And there's been a storm, so the river is swollen. And the ferry operator is no where to be found. And when she boards the ferry, it busts loose, sending her crashing down the river. And she can't swim. And...

See? DANGER. :)

"There is no frigate like a book to take us lands away..."

- Emily Dickinson

*photo by Marion Post Wolcott, FSA, Gee's Bend, 1939

WELCOME TO MY NEW HOME!

Hello! So happy you're here!!

You know what's great about a new house? All that POTENTIAL, right there, waiting for you to realize. Sure it's a lot of work, but if it's where you really want to be.... and yes, this is the house I always wanted.

The house in the picture is a painting on my wall, right here, in this room where I type. It was inspired by the last house we lived in, way out in the country, on a big hill. I loved it there. LOVED it. But it was best for our family to move into a neighborhood closer to my husband's work that also had lots of children for ours to play with. It's been 11 years now since we've lived here, and I still miss that house on the hill. But I love the convenience of where we live. Always a trade-off, right? And the trade-off in the cyberworld is that I might lose some of friends by moving to this address. But I'll make new one, too.

Now. Must get busy trying the furniture out in different places. Happy weekend to all! And for those just joining, I've been blogging at Word Lovers Unite! for quite a while now but just moved everything to my new permanent residence. :)

VOICES IN MY HEAD

Yes, what you may have suspected is actually true: I hear voices. And being a writer, I am fond of creating analogies to describe those voices.

For instance, in the latest revision of LEAVING GEE'S BEND, I described one character's voice as "jagged as a saw blade." Then I thought of this: "gritty as greens that ain't been washed too good." (Obviously rural Alabama, right?)

Anyhow, turns out there are others who enjoy describing voices. Check out NPR's Vocal Impressions series. I particularly love this description of Morgan Freeman's voice: "Hash browns being grilled in olive oil" — Bill Isenberger

Anyone got a good one for Norah Jones?? Love her.

"Silence is more musical than any song."

- Christina Rossetti

REVISION MADNESS

We've all heard the old adage, "be careful what you wish for." Well. I've been wishing for my edits, and now I'm buried under them! Will come out soon.

Meanwhile, check out my friend Jessica's brilliant blog that's all about Keeping it Real. She is seriously awesome, and you will love her outlook on life.

Now, back to it....

Instead of a quote today, check out your very own Perseverence Quotient. Do you have what it takes to make your dreams come true?

That's what I thought. :)

DEBUT YA AUTHORS ROCK THE WORLD!

For those of you who love to read, we've got an interview series going on over at the Odyssey. In the past week, three new books from three new authors have hit the shelves:



Check out interview (by Heidi R. Kling) with Saundra Mitchell here!



Check out interview (by Holly Hoxter) with Erin Dionne here!



Check out interview (by moi) with Jenny Moss here!

"One new feature or fresh take can change everything."

- Neil Young

OPEN INVITATION TO POETRY-LOVING BLOGGERS

So I've been working on this article for a local paper on National Poetry Month (April) and why poetry is so important and wonderful and beautiful and essential. And it's got me thinking about what I can do here to make the month even more fun.

Ever heard of Robert Pinsky's Favorite Poem Project? Well. It's awesome. And I do a take-off of it here in Birmingham called My Favorite Poem, where folks from all walks of life take the stage to share their favorite famous poem and tell the audience how that poem has impacted their lives. It's an amazing event. And I would like to do something similar here during April.

Here's how it will work: every day during April I will post a poetry-loving blogger's favorite poem (and of course a link to their blog). I've already contacted some of you, but let this serve as an invitation to anyone who wants to participate. You can leave your info in comments or shoot me an email at irene (at) irenelatham (dot) com.

Hope you'll join me, because it's gonna be fun! Meanwhile, I've got a bad case of spring fever...

"It's spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you've got it, you want - oh, you don't quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!"

- Mark Twain

TWO QUESTIONS THIS EDITOR ASKS

Last night I attended the reading/release party for the latest issue of Birmingham Arts Journal, graciously hosted by the Birmingham Public Library. As always, the room was full of wonderful writers and artists and lots of inspiring words.

Near the end of the reading, I spoke to the audience about how I select poems for the journal, and I wanted to share that information here as well.

When I review a poem, I am looking for two things:

1. Does the poem acheive what it sets out to acheive?

This of course is based on my perception of what the poem is trying to achieve. But whether or not my perception is accurate, it matters. Because I am a reader who cannot possibly know what's going on inside the writer's head. All I have to go on is the words in front of me. So, if it works, I know it works. And if it doesn't quite get there? I discard the poem.

But. If the poem works, I move on to the next Very Important Thing:

2. Does the poem make me feel something? Do I feel I've been punched in the gut? Does my throat start to tighten up? Do I gasp? Do I instantly want to re-read to better absorb that feeling, whatever it may be?

THAT is what I am looking for in a poem. And that is what I strive for when I write poems. It might be a raw piece of writing, or it might be something more polished, but if it meets those two criteria, I want it for the journal.

"One kind word can warm three winter months."

- Japanese proverb

C IS FOR CHANGE

Nobody tells you when you're just starting out as a writer just how much you will change and your manuscript will change and your outlook on the world will change.

I think it's sort of like how we protect an expectant mother from the reality of a colicky fitful baby and focus on the darling dress and sweet socks she'll be dressed in. Or perhaps it's more than the expectant mother simply cannot see what life with baby will be like until baby is actually in her arms, so why bring it up?

When I set out to write a book set in Depression-era Gee's Bend, I couldn't fathom the number of drafts, the number of character I would add, then later cut, the number of times I would use the "find" and "replace" features on Microsoft WORD. And that's before I ever added an editor to the mix.

Change is good. And sometimes it's scary and overwhelming too. The road is fraught with self-doubt and shifting confidence that floods the beach one moment, the next leaves it pocked with broken shells and sea glass. But ultimately change equals growth. And that's always good to see.

The latest change in my writing life is the title of my book: say goodbye to the witches, because my publisher has officially christened the book LEAVING GEE'S BEND. The thinking here is "witches" is misleading in that the book contains nothing paranormal... and they want to shift the focus to my ten year old girl's amazing adventure. Cool, huh?

"If you don't like something change it; if you can't change it, change the way you think about it.

~Mary Engelbreit

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN POETRY AND PROSE

My friend Suzanne and I have got it all figured out:

Poetry is Feline


Prose is Canine


Think about it: the cat shows up when it wants to. Sometimes it sleeps in your lap, sometimes it stays out all night. It is elegant and graceful. It watches things very closely. The dog is always there, needing you for something. It's clumsy and makes messes. When it looks at you longingly, you feel better when you pat it on the head.

"I like pigs. Dogs look up at us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals."

- Winston Churchill

LUCKY NUMBER FOUR

So Kirie, whom I completely adore, over at 3 Little Chickies , tagged me for this fun little romp through the photo files. Instructions are to open your fourth folder, then post the fourth picture.

And what's this, you're asking? A snapshot of the first page of my youngest son's Diary. Er, Book of Secrets. Pretty adorable, huh? And I love that he journals. All HIM, let me tell you. He inspires me on a daily basis.

Now. To pass it along to four others:

Chelley Cat (an awesome photographer -- can't wait to see what she posts!)
Rachel (budding photographer and daughter of a most beautiful person also known as Four Angels Momma)
River Garden Studio (where I've been lurking lately because of all the amazing things this gal does with color and texture. Oh and she also has really excellent taste in music. Talk about inspiring!)
DysFUNctional Mom (Another secret hideout... her motto is "Just smile and nod." How can I not love that?!)

"Go and wake up your luck."

- Persian saying

B IS FOR BEGINNINGS

Someone told me once that there are three parts of a book: the beginning, the end, and everything in between.

Trouble is, you can't get to parts two and three without a really excellent part one. Truly, a story or poem or book is nothing without a great start.

We may think "once upon a time," and all stories do start there, but of course it's not what we write. And clearly the days of “It was a dark and stormy night” are long gone in a society that craves action and lots of it. So as writers, we’ve really got to get in there and get moving FAST. Which, for me, usually involves razing the Front Porch: gotta clear out all that backstory and provide the reader with a wide-open front door.

Here are a few of my favorite beginnings:

All children, except one, grow up. Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie

In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines lived twelve little girls in two straight lines. Madeline - Ludwig Bemelmans

The night Max wore his wolf suit and made mischief of one kind and another his mother called him "WILD THING!" and Max said "I'LL EAT YOU UP!" so he was sent to bed without eating anything. Where the Wild Things Are - Maurice Sendak

Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, "and what is the use of a book," thought Alice "without pictures or conversation?" Alice's Adventures in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll

"Where's Papa going with that ax?" said Fern to her mother as they were setting the table for breakfast. Charlotte's Web - E.B. White

When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle everybody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen. The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett

"Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents," grumbled Jo, lying on the rug. Little Women - Louisa May Alcott

For many days we had been tempest-tossed. The Swiss Family Robinson - Johann Wyss

The first place that I can well remember was a large pleasant meadow with a pond of clear water in it. Black Beauty - Anna Sewell

Once, in a house on Egypt Street, there lived a rabbit who was made almost entirely of china. The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane - Kate DiCamillo

A long time ago, when all the grandfathers and grandmothers of today were little boys and little girls or very small babies, or perhaps not even born, Pa and Ma and Mary and Laura and Baby Carrie left their little house in the Big Woods of Wisconsin. Little House on the Prairie - Laura Ingalls Wilder

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of threes steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov

It was a pleasure to burn. Fahrenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury

Scarlett O’Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her charm as the Tarleton twins were. Gone With the Wind - Margaret Mitchell

Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventh-first birthday with a part of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton. The Fellowship of the Ring - J.R.R. Tolkien

And because Amy asked, here’s the beginning of my very own The Witches of Gee’s Bend:

“Mama always said every quilt tells a story.”

If you’ve got favorites, I’d sure love to hear ‘em!