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A Poem for a Thursday #149
Linda Pastan is an American poet who was the Poet Laureate of Maryland from 1991-1995. She is known for writing poems that are about family life, loss, the female experience, and the temporary nature of the human experience. I featured another of her poems here. A painter can say all he wants to with fruit or flowers or even clouds. Édouard Manet When I pass you this bowl of Winesaps, do I want to say: here are some rosy spheres of love, or lust--emblems of all those moments after Eden when a pinch of the forbidden was like spice on that first apple? Or do I simply mean: I'm sorry,…
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Book Review//Guilty Creatures: A Menagerie of Mysteries
My life has been full of animals these days. My daughter attends a technical high school where she is in an animal care and management program. She absolutely loves it and regularly sends me photos of the animals she is working with. In the last few days, I have received photos of a skink, a snake, a turtle, and rats. I have heard long and enthusiastic stories about guinea pigs, chinchillas, goats, dogs, and fish. She lives, sleeps, and breathes animals. Since animals were taking over my life anyway I thought Guilty Creatures would be the perfect book to read. The blurb on the back of the book says: Since…
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A Poem for a Thursday #148
Mary Karr is an American poet and memoirist. Her memoir, The Liar’s Club, was a bestseller for over a year and was named one of the year’s best books. Karr has published five volumes of poetry and has won many prizes. Her poetry is frequently described as unsentimental and unsparing and is sometimes autobiographical. The dream we had was Paris, and it was the sweetest lie I ever heard. Grace, you said, and there were swans feeding on bread we tossed from a taxi window. Lilac, and from the stirrup of your hands, I balanced to tear off branches. Angel, and we slung cameras around our necks like tourists in…
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A Few Reasons Autumn is Better Than Summer
Leaves. The colors, the smell, the crisp sound as you step on them, the way they dance through the air as they fall to the ground. Pumpkin pie. Cool, refreshing air when you wake up in the morning. And in the middle of the afternoon. And all night long. Have I mentioned a time or two that I hate humidity with a fiery passion? Being able to go outside without melting into an angry, sweaty, lethargic puddle. Yes, I know a puddle can be those things because I have been that puddle. Chrysanthemums. Picking apples at the orchard and then coming home to make pie and applesauce. Needing a blanket…
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A Poem for a Thursday #147
The good thing about having kids is that they grow up. That is also the bad thing about having kids. My kids are 16 and 20 now and I am simultaneously thrilled with them and nostalgic for the days when they were little. I like this poem by Dorianne Laux about a growing daughter. Laux is an American poet. When talking about her writing she said “Craft is important, a skill to be learned, but it’s not the beginning and the end of the story. I want the muddled middle to be filled with the gristle of living.” She is twelve now, the door to her room closed, telephone cord…
