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

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

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