One Last Poem for April

Poetry can say so much in a few words. But each word is important and must say more than the language we use every day. By writing poetry, I have learned how to read and understand poems by others in a deeper, more meaningful way. I advise my students who write prose, to read poetry and try to write poetry. Poetry is a way to put forth an idea  or a story in a concise manner, to say something in a few words that leave a lasting impression.

The use of metaphor increases the reader's understanding and draws him deeper into the poem. I learned to use at least one metaphor in every poem I write. 

Our Loss

for my brother, Ray

Family,

like threads tightly woven

in a fine tapestry --

fiery reds, cool blues, pale yellows.

Family,

like the petals of a rosebud

curving close around each other,

maturing, gently falling

to die upon the ground.

Family,

like a clump of grass.

Disturb one blade,

affect all that remain.

You were plucked from us,

and now we don't know

which way to lean

when the winds blow.

            ----Glenda Council Beall

Poetry Month, another poem and another poet

Poetry month is almost over, but we have a few more days to share our most beloved poems.

Today I have one few people have seen. I am posting a poem by my late sister, June Council Hunter. Her husband, Stan, died suddenly in 1975 when she was 48 years old. She sent me a couple of poems she wrote while she was grieving. She wrote honestly and from her heart.

If you have lost a husband or wife, you will relate to her poem. 

              Friday Night

It's late this stormy afternoon

in the mountains of Carolina, in Boone

There are only re-runs on TV.

However, they're really new-runs for me.

.

Friday was always our special night

though the entertainment might be light.

I can’t bear to listen to our music yet.

I’ll have to settle for the television set.

Hurting here in the dark, I watch half-heartedly.

as a couple caress, and kiss on TV.

                        ---June Council Hunter

I know the loneliness of loss as June did at that time. She was in process of figuring out who she would be now that she was not half of a couple. She missed the affection and loving touch of her handsome husband. He was so young and she was too young to be left with the responsibility of raising two girls. But she found a strength she didn't know she had. She suffered the pain of grief, but had to make a life for herself and her children. I admired her more than anyone.

It was thirty years before she found another man she loved. 

Celebrating Poetry this month

I don't know if it was because I grew up in the segregated south, but I did not know about the poet Langston Hughes until about ten years ago.

I bought some books and read his work and realized he was a poet with much to write about. I often find myself picking up one of his books and reading this man's poetry.

His parents divorced when he was a child and he was raised by his grandmother until he was 13. Then he went to live with his mother and  stepfather.
In November 1924, he moved to Washington, D. C. Hughes’s first book of poetry, The Weary Blues, (Knopf, 1926) was published by Alfred A. Knopf in 1926. He finished his college education at Lincoln University in Pennsylvania three years later. In 1930 his first novel, Not Without Laughter, (Knopf, 1930) won the Harmon gold medal for literature.

I like this poem. 

Mother to Son 
                Langston Hughes (1922)

Well, son, I’ll tell you:
Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.
But all the time
I’se been a-climbin’ on,
And reachin’ landin’s,
And turnin’ corners,
And sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there ain’t been no light.
So boy, don’t you turn back.
Don’t you set down on the steps
’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you fall now—
For I’se still goin’, honey,
I’se still climbin’,
And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

What a beautiful message of encouragement from a mother to her son. Her life was as hard as life could be but she would not put up with a son who gave up when life got tough.

My Life Long Love for Poetry

Poetry has been a part of my life since I was a child. My sister June read poems to my little sister, Gay, and me before we went to sleep at night. One that I remember was Eugene Fields' Wynken, Blynken, and Nod who sailed around the  night sky in a  wooden shoe.

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 the 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.

It was first called a Dutch Lullaby. It helped put me to sleep.

Rhyming Poetry

My older brothers loved the rhyming poetry they were required to memorize in school. I can hear Max reciting The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe, 

This is also one I remember they enjoyed. 

Abou Ben Adhem
By Leigh Hunt

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:—
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou?"—The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerily still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow men."

The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blest,
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

When Ray began reciting verses, Max would join in. Those poems were not written in free verse or blank verse as most of the poetry is written today. They were easier to  memorize because of the  rhyme. I still love these old poems.

Max, now 86 years old, can recite those poems just as  he did when he was a kid. 

Here is  one of my early poems.

Pretending

In my secret life

I shop on Rodeo Drive

and wear a size five.

In my secret life 

Pacific surf crashes

against my private beach.

In my secret life

I speak fluent French

and vacation in Paris.

In my secret life

I hike the Appalachian Trail

and write a book that sells.

In my secret life

I kayak the Oconee

for film maker, Clint Eastwood.

In my secret life

I live to be one hundred

and die, peaceful in my sleep.

Did you ever memorize a poem and can you still remember it?

April is Poetry Month - Let us Celebrate!

This is what my friend, the poet Scott Owens says about poetry in his poem inspired by Heath’s Orange Moon. He says the art of poetry “is what won’t sit still inside your head / what wakes you up at night / what calls memory back from darkness / what gives words the shape they take / what makes you wonder how much more you could do / and just why you haven’t been doing it.”

Most poets can't help themselves. They must write poetry. I have said that Scott thinks and dreams in poetic verse and language. Poems flow out of him like an artesian well.

In the most recent class I taught at Tri-County Community College, I could not interest my students in poetry. I mean they simply said no. They did not want to write poetry. They were not interested in reading it either even though I told them how much reading poems could help their prose writing. 

I like this statement by Samuel Taylor Coleridge on the subject of writing poetry and prose.

"I wish our clever young poets would remember my homely definitions of prose and poetry; that is prose; words in their best order; - poetry; the best words in the best order."   ... Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Choosing the best words is an important part of making a good poem. I think my favorite part of writing a poem is going back, revising and finding the best word I can to put my reader right where I am when I am writing. 

The poem below tells how a handsome young ski instructor in Colorado teased me, a young married woman and a complete novice at snow skiing. I blame most of this on the altitude.

     High in Colorado

He poses, hip cocked in red and blue,

sun-glistened face of Eros turned to me,

a fledgling atop the icy slope. My

breath quickens in foolish adoration

at the sound of my name from his mouth.

Knees bent, I push on poles and slide

down to him, past him, racing for the edge.

"Sit down," he cries.  My legs collapse,

long shoes shoot sidewise.  I try to rise,

but can't.  He twirls, zips toward me,

digs in.  You know a mogul is a South

Georgia girl who falls and can't get up.

He laughs, his teeth like sparkling icicles.

Giddy Aspen air heliums my brain,

overflows my heart that dances in triple time.

He yanks me up, skims powder to the lift.

At sea level, snow dreams

melt into arrogant soap bubbles

as his smiling face yellows
on a faded brochure beneath my ski apparel.

                                         ... Glenda Council Beall

What do you think? Did the words I used help your image of what happened?

Writers Night Out in Blairsville, GA

Fink and Moore read at WNO in Blairsville, GA 

Read more: http://netwestwriters.blogspot.com/2016/04/fike-and-moore-headline-writers-night.html

Bradley and Howard featured at Coffee with the Poets and Writers in Hayesville in March

A group of writers and poets met at the Moss Library in Hayesville, NC for Coffee with the Poets and Writers, monthly literary event sponsored by NCWN West, a program of the state organization NC Writers Network. 

This day was unusual because we had a mother and three children visiting with us. We also had an author from Hendersonville, NC read today. Miriam Jones Bradley is author of several nonfiction books and a children's mystery series. We love Miriam because she is a delightful person to hang with. Miriam stayed for lunch with us and we all got better acquainted. Miriam speaks in schools on the writing process, so if you want a wonderful speaker and teacher for your school, visit her website and contact her. Or contact me and I will put you in touch.

Miriam Jones Bradley

Our local reader today was Joan Howard, wonderful poet, who lives in Hiawassee, Ga and in Athens, GA. Joan has published in some excellent publications in recent years and her poems today were perfect for the spring weather we experienced.

Joan Howard, poet

Two of the children, eleven and nine years old, read at Open Mic. We were delighted to see they were well mannered, poised and comfortable reading before adults. They are home-schooled by their mother who is evidently doing a great job.  

Joan Gage, a NCWN West member who manages the blog, www.netwestwriters.blogspot.com recorded some of the reading today. She post ed them on www.netwestwriters.blogspot.com. I am so glad Joan Gage moved to Hayesville and joined our writing organization. She is a wonderful volunteer.

We hope other writers and those who just enjoy hearing good writers and poets read their original work, will join us next month on the third Wednesday at 10:00 a.m. Our Open Mic welcomes anyone who wants to read a poem or two or a short piece of prose. 

We enjoy the writing and the social atmosphere at Coffee with the Poets and Writers in Hayesville, NC.

Writers' Conference in Blue Ridge, GA April 8-9

Local writers, in WNC and north Georgia, have a great opportunity in April to attend a writers conference near us. In Blue Ridge, GA, Carol Crawford has brought together a fine group of presenters who will cover poetry, nonfiction, fiction and writing for children.  

Stephanie Fretwell-Hill, agent, has vast experience in choosing and  selling books  for children. She  has worked for several publishers in this  field. Stephanie is the keynote speaker.

Blue Ridge Writers' Conference, April 8-9. 

Robert Brewer, senior content editor of the Writer's Digest Community, will speak on poetry.

Steven Harvey, author of The Book Of Knowledge and Wonder, a Memoir, and  other nonfiction books, is  on the program.

Tara Lynne Groth, expert on social media, freelance writing, and marketing, is also a presenter.

Now click HERE to see who else will be there.