Come here, You!

It’s like a fireworks: well, no, it’s really like a Persian rug.” Rainer Maria Rilke It is a comfort that even great writers fumble over themselves to find words to describe loveliness in nature. This morning I sat back and watched as Rilke stumbled to describe a few twigs of heather included in a letter. I don’t mean, he fell down, but his heart and … Continue reading Come here, You!

Endless Visibility that Hands you the Horizon on a Platter

This morning, I started out my reading time with a little poetry from Billy Collins. The title of this article is a line from his poem Canada, from the book, “Sailing Alone Around the Room.” What Collins does best is turn an apparently simple phrase into a numinous moment. –The New Yorker That started off innocently. I just wanted to share the quote on the … Continue reading Endless Visibility that Hands you the Horizon on a Platter

Music Heard so Deeply, That it is Not Heard at All

This morning, I read T.S. Eliot again. Poetry is a dark and glorious thing to me. This morning, it was more dark than usual. The world is rather dark these days, and that is perhaps why I was struck so by the melancholy. Once again, it looks as if the entire world is ready to implode or explode, it cannot tell whether it wants to … Continue reading Music Heard so Deeply, That it is Not Heard at All

All the World, In Brief

In only seven stanzas and a little introductory phrase, a quote by Paul Cezanne, I am plunged into the world of beauty, where art, science, philosophy, farms and haystacks, baseball, the history of architecture, and the heaven of geometry with its lines, vanishing points and theorems converge to dance, intertwined and deeply in love.* That is the Poetry of Billy Collins. His ability to pull … Continue reading All the World, In Brief

Planting Seeds of Hope: in Hums and Laughter and Poetry

Another night. Another gift. Dinner was amazing – homemade hot-dog buns, homemade mayonnaise, homemade relish, homemade potato chips. Big, honkin’ Hot-dogs. Delicious. Then while Bean was humming sweetly to himself in the tub, Scott and Ben were imitating one another sprawled out on the floor in front of the wood-burning stove. They were both exhausted from a long day of work, for Scott, and school, for Ben. Both … Continue reading Planting Seeds of Hope: in Hums and Laughter and Poetry

Nostalgic Poet Mama, with a Downright Ugly Twinge of Jealousy

Ever since last week, I cannot help hearing the name Dessa Darling, a poet nearing Pop Icon status, and wrecking my serenity just a tiny bit. Only a tiny bit. Of course I’m happy for her. She is all over the internet, Twitter adores her, she was interviewed on The Splendid Table over the weekend on NPR, for Pete’s Sake, to learn about her eating … Continue reading Nostalgic Poet Mama, with a Downright Ugly Twinge of Jealousy

In the Corners and Cobwebs of Every Civilization…Were the Poets and Artists

Thanks to my son’s take home Scholastic News magazine, I learned that November is National American Heritage Month. For Language and Literature night tonight, I pulled a free printable from TeacherVision to learn about Picture Language used to communicate between tribes. Both the boys tried their hands at telling a story with just the main points, without the filler words, and with only simple drawings. We … Continue reading In the Corners and Cobwebs of Every Civilization…Were the Poets and Artists

Magnitude of the Heart Precludes

Language and Literature night started out with poetry, and turned into playing with rhyming words and trying to make something of it – all around Gratitude – which makes me smile even more. This isn’t a Rap. We are nowhere cool enough. No hip in our hop. But we had fun trying. Here are the “Lyrics” Magnitude of the heart precludes the rude and crude … Continue reading Magnitude of the Heart Precludes

A Happy, Jumbled Mess of Wordplay and Childhood Memories

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. These are the opening lines of the famous poem, The Jabberwocky, by Lewis Carroll. We read poetry last night, my 4- and 8-year old, snuggled on each side of me on the couch. We read some classic A. A. Milne poetry and … Continue reading A Happy, Jumbled Mess of Wordplay and Childhood Memories