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19

May

Debbie Millman on Robert Frost and the Courageous, Creative Life

Robert Frost once wrote that a poem “begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It is never a thought to begin with.” 

From Frost’s precious, raw, half-formed entity of poem-to-be, I love what Debbie Millman writes about how this process is applied to the brave and stupid path of a creative professional.

Source: Brain Pickings.org

07

May

10 Famous Writers on How to Read

30

Apr

The Sandhills by Linda Hogan

The language of cranes
we once were told
is the wind. The wind
is their method,
their current, the translated story
of life they write across the sky.
Millions of years
they have blown here
on ancestral longing,
their wings of wide arrival,
necks long, legs stretched out
above strands of earth
where they arrive
with the shine of water,
stories, interminable
language of exchanges
descended from the sky
and then they stand,
earth made only of crane
from bank to bank of the river
as far as you can see
the ancient story made new.
—-
via American Life in Poetry
Poem from Sing: Poetry from the Indigenous Americas, Ed. by Allison Adelle Hedge Coke, The Univ. of Arizona Press, 2011.

22

Apr

Pages from the photography book, Forest Coast by Ben Grieme and Clarke Tolton, published by Art Book Club.
Cool back story: I came across this book through reading about the publisher’s day job as a design director, and he and some friends decided to put together a book full of photographs on the side. The result? Two published photography books, two more in the works, and worldwide distribution. Not too shabby for a side gig, no?

Pages from the photography book, Forest Coast by Ben Grieme and Clarke Tolton, published by Art Book Club.

Cool back story: I came across this book through reading about the publisher’s day job as a design director, and he and some friends decided to put together a book full of photographs on the side. The result? Two published photography books, two more in the works, and worldwide distribution. Not too shabby for a side gig, no?

20

Apr

The winds would sigh humanely, and the clouds rain tears.
Henry David Thoreau

19

Apr

Nine word poem series - Balm of Gilead

Funerals,
a cooling balm for sorrow’s meeting with morning

10

Apr

09

Apr

Pig by Roald Dahl

There are too many things to like about Roald Dahl’s writing. It’s like unwrapping your childhood and finding that there is not just one bar of chocolate, but several segments containing all your favourite bits—nuts, puffed rice, coconut, caramel—to be discovered and savoured like a good book you can return to.

I came across this poem on a favourite blog of mine, Gastronomista, when I was a food blogger. It’s a fantastic poem written by Dahl and has that undeniable inquisitive imagination of his that renders sheer glee out of children and adults, alike. 

PIG

In England once there lived a big
And wonderfully clever pig.
To everybody it was plain
That Piggy had a massive brain.
He worked out sums inside his head,
There was no book he hadn’t read.
He knew what made an airplane fly,
He knew how engines worked and why.
He knew all this, but in the end
One question drove him round the bend:
He simply couldn’t puzzle out
What LIFE was really all about.

What was the reason for his birth?
Why was he placed upon this earth?
His giant brain went round and round.
Alas, no answer could be found.
Till suddenly one wondrous night.
All in a flash he saw the light.
He jumped up like a ballet dancer
And yelled, “By gum, I’ve got the answer!”
“They want my bacon slice by slice
“To sell at a tremendous price!
“They want my tender juicy chops
“To put in all the butcher’s shops!
“They want my pork to make a roast
“And that’s the part’ll cost the most!
“They want my sausages in strings!
“They even want my chitterlings!
“The butcher’s shop! The carving knife!
“That is the reason for my life!”

Such thoughts as these are not designed
To give a pig great piece of mind.
Next morning, in comes Farmer Bland,
A pail of pigswill in his hand,
And piggy with a mighty roar,
Bashes the farmer to the floor…
Now comes the rather grizzly bit
So let’s not make too much of it,
Except that you must understand
That Piggy did eat Farmer Bland,
He ate him up from head to toe,
Chewing the pieces nice and slow.
It took an hour to reach the feet,
Because there was so much to eat,
And when he finished, Pig, of course,
Felt absolutely no remorse.

Slowly he scratched his brainy head
And with a little smile he said,
“I had a fairly powerful hunch
“That he might have me for his lunch.
“And so, because I feared the worst,
“I thought I’d better eat him first.”

On a related note, I came across this illustration by Jocelyn Cheung, who was inspired by another porker-poem by Dahl, “Three Little Pigs.”

image

They say that it’s good online writing etiquette to include an image with every post since people will look at pictures more readily than they will dive into a bunch of text, and in searching for one, I found Jocelyn’s. Pretty neat on its own. Read more on her website!

06

Apr

Nine word poem series - Duet

Outstretched to be held; a resonating reply that fits.

—-

Inspiration: Tonight I went to a music mini-concert with a team of four instrumentalists and several instruments (mostly guitars). One of the pieces they performed was a duet between a guitar and a mandolin and the way the mandolin highlighted the supporting sounds of the guitar created an unthinkable musical conversation. Their duet inspired this poem—specifically, a fitting reply.

six word poem 3/30

atonguewithbutsixwords:

We
don’t
feel
today
until
midnight.