Goodbye to January

Fare-well to the Poets.
Goodbye to January.

As with so many of my doings, this Personal Challenge started off fine, started to fizzle (a week of Sick didn't help - but is no excuse), regained a bit of steam, and then scuttled away. Yes - started, fizzled, steamed, scuttled. So it goes.

Poorly paraphrasing Miss Dickinson:

I did not run from Poetry - 
Perhaps it ran from me - 
And, thus - will haunt me all my days - 
And through Eternity - 

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However, soul and brain are better for having attempted thinking about, reading, and posting about poets and poetry this first thirty one days of the new year.

I know a few more things, about words and their writers, have recalled delightful childhood memories, and have discovered that you never know when and where Johnny Cash's name will pop up! 

Tonight I read poetry by Toni Morrison and Edward Lear. So there. But I am too lazy to post about them and their creations. Go find some poets that you are curious about. No need any longer to head for library or bookstore. The WORLD of poetry is merely one or two keyboard clicks away.

This month I've learned more about Spoken Word Competitions, the Poetry Foundation, haiku, and Robert Frost.

On the days that I do not read a poem or learn more about a poet just a little guilt and regret form round heart and brain.

And that is O.K. 

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But tomorrow brings a New Month and a New Personal Challenge.

And the vow to myself to increase the number of posts in February about the doings.

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Poetry WILL be near when we need/want it. Huzzah for words and their writers!
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Fare-thee-well,
Sue

Going Going

Poetry in January

One can see the end of the month from here.
And though I have not posted thirty times about thirty poets I have read over thirty poems.

And the blog challenge "forces" brain to consider Poetry every day.
This is Something.

I think of school children memorizing poetry one hundred years ago, and wonder how many children know a poem by heart today. Maybe rap lyrics count.

Do you have a favorite poem memorized?
My go-to words are "Jabberwocky" by Lewis Carroll.
Time to step up the doings.
Every year I vow to re-memorize "The Gettysburg Address."
Really.
A copy sits on my work desk.
In seventh or eighth grade our class had to memorize it, and recite Abe's words into a tape recorder.

It was the first time I heard myself speak on record.
It was not a pleasant thing.

But I KNEW the Address.
Now I get about a third way through, and although the Images appear in brain the Words do not. I can "see" men not dying in vain, but the specific words don't form into the waterfall of words that make up this most powerful short speech.

This early morning I was reading haiku. From hundreds of years ago to present time.

We can write haiku - even if it's not "good." Five - seven - five.
Try it.

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Some words are scribbled
With a cheap yellow pencil
on white paper

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On to the day and its wonderments.

Fare-thee-well,
Sue

www.suerowe.com
Facebook Page: Sue-Rowe-Studios

No Poem Again

Nope

No Poem

No Poet

Life

Happens

Fast

or Quickly

But Poets

Are in brain

Both as 

Inspiration

And as Guilt

Oddly

Poetry 

is on

the

Mind 

Much more

Often

Than

Had 

The Challenge

Not Been

Typed

This must be counted as a Plus

And a Forward

For the month

At least

Some

Poetry

is

Better

Than 

No poetry

At

All

And Shel

Might be

Smiing

Somewhere

A Bit of Childhood Revisited - "Wynken, Blynken, and Nod"

Once upon a time most of us were kids. I don't know if your parents recited or read poetry to you, but ours did. And certain pieces more often than others. One, "The Fairies," by William Allingham, that I've just now read in its entirety is even more frightening than the much abridged version our parents would recite! My favorite was probably "The Owl and the Pussycat" - but I also loved "Wynken, Blyken, and Nod."

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(In public domain)

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe -
Sailed on a river of crystal light,
Into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going, and what do you wish?"
The old moon asked the three.
"We have come to fish for the herring fish
That live in this beautiful sea;
Nets of silver and gold have we!"
Said Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.

The old moon laughed and sang a song,
As they rocked in the wooden shoe,
And the wind that sped them all night long
Ruffled the waves of dew.
The little stars were the herring fish
That lived in that beautiful sea -
"Now cast your nets wherever you wish - 
Never afraid are we";
So cried the stars to the fishermen three:
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.

All night long their nets they threw
To the stars in the twinkling foam - 
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,
Bringing the fisherman home;
'Twas all so pretty a sail
It seemed
As if it could not be
And some folks think 'twas a dream they'd dreamed
Of sailing that beautiful sea - 
But I shall name you the fisherman three:
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes, 
And Nod is a little head, 
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
Is a wee one's trundle-bed.
So shut your eyes while mother sings
Of wonderful sights that be,
And you shall see the beautiful things
As you rock in the misty sea,
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.

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Well, if that doesn't bring back a few memories - such as netting smelt in Lake Superior, and wondering what the heck a trundle bed was!  
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For some reason I'd thought this was probably a Mother Goose poem. Nope. It was written as a bed-time story by the American journalist and poet, Eugene Field, who also penned the popular, "The Gingham Dog and the Calico Cat," among a number of other poems for children.

A few facts:
Mr. Field (1850 - 1895) was born in St. Louis, Missouri, and was a journalist in Missouri and Chicago, Illinois. 
Many of his poems were accompanied by the paintings of Maxfield Parrish.
Numerous elementary schools in the midwest are named in his honor.

Known as the "poet of childhood,"Mr. Field was far more than this. But you will have to do your own research. I'm feeling the eyelids drooping, and have a serious yearning for a soft goose-down comforter in a large wooden shoe. The herring are safe tonight...

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Fare-thee-well,
Sue

www.suerowe.com
Facebook Page: Sue-Rowe-Studios

Pastels - But Thinking of Peotry

Today's adventure is a Paint-In at our January meeting of The Lake Country Pastel Society. Our meetings are held at the New Brighton (MN) Community Center - a well-used rowdy space - but with quiet meeting rooms on the second level.

It is just the right distance away - not near enough to know one can just swing everything in the van in a moment and be there, but not so far away as to make an excuse not to go. A Medium Time to Think drive. And I have to go - because powers that be have asked me to do a demo.

I think I know what I will demonstrate - or have it down to two or three options: cross-hatching, using hard stick pastels, or just grabbing a piece of velour mat board and creating a bear head from nothing.

This in-progress guy is coming along:

He was a start a couple years ago, showed promise, but was added to the piles and stack for "later." Later is now. After enjoying the time creating the large cross-hatched sheep painting, "Seth and the Girls," I figure - you can't make this piece worse - give cross-hatching a chance. So far I am pleased with the direction it's going. And I never really know the direction my work is going to take. The folks at the meeting are going to find this out....

And because Poetry is still on the tiny mind, I might brave the asking members about THEIR favorite poets and poems. One can't have a "normal" ""usual" sort of demo. And we might all learn another thing about art.

Fare-thee-well,
Sue The Finally-Got-to-See-The- Luther-Exhibit
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www.suerowe.com
Facebook Page: Sue-Rowe-Studios

Sick

SICK

is no Fun

Many poets 

worked

through 

illness

Wrote about

Death

And stuff like that

I read and learn

About

Poets & Poetry

The month

WILL

be survived

THE CHALLENGE

WILL

be met

The Future

will hold

FUN

Till I am sick of having it

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(Back on the couch for me. And a hearty "yay!" for whisky and tea.)

A Little Start is Better Than None

Tomorrow's poet

will be Alice Walker.

But not tonight.

Tonight a football game matters

more than one of our most 

famous

writers.

I shall remain a shallow sort

as long as there is football.

But will start learning about 

Ms. Walker's poetry

this evening.

A start.

For now

here is 

a small start

I made this past year.

It ended up

being

a big part 

of an art adventure.

Thousands 

of little actions

can create

A Big Thing.

Start.

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Fare-thee-well,

Sue