Category Archives: poetry

You will know it by its seriousness.

August 1, 2014love, poetryRilkeGretchenJoanna

I first read this poem on Victoria’s blog aproposofnothing. Just recently I came across it again and find it as enlightening and encouraging as the first time I read it, but of course for some different reasons, as every day is a new challenge.

God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.

Flare up like a flame
and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don’t let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.

― Rainer Maria Rilke, Rilke’s Book of Hours: Love Poems to God

A Measuring Worm

July 22, 2014poetry, quotescaterpillars, death, Richard WilburGretchenJoanna

More than one reviewer of Richard Wilbur’s latest collection of poems has noticed that since his wife died, the poet has written more about death, as in this example below. That would be a natural response, of course, for someone 90 years old, even if he weren’t recently widowed.

I’m a lot younger than Wilbur, but I know it’s recommended that people of all ages live with awareness of the shortness of our lives, as in Psalm 90: “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” Or as another translation goes, “Teach us to realize the brevity of life….”

If our dearest friends and family have departed, it could exacerbate any feeling of weariness we already had with this earthly existence. In the same Psalm the poet mentions the less-than-thrilling aspects of life: “The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.”

A MEASURING WORM

This yellow striped green
Caterpillar, climbing up
The steep window screen,

Constantly (for lack
Of a full set of legs) keeps
Humping up his back.

It’s as if he sent
By a sort of semaphore
Dark omegas meant

To warn of Last Things.
Although he doesn’t know it,
He will soon have wings,

And I, too, don’t know
Toward what undreamt condition
Inch by inch I go.

~ Richard Wilbur

Richard Wilbur is a lot smarter than an inchworm, so I like to think he had this verse from I Corinthians in mind when he wrote those last lines: “But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.”

Because the Preparer is Love, our Last Things, though unimaginable, will be the best.

wilbur 2011

Zinnias

July 16, 2014my garden, poetryValerie Worth, zinniasGretchenJoanna

Last year I had the amazing tall red zinnia in the back yard, but my favorites from the past have been bushy big orange ones in the vegetable garden. For some reason I don’t care for purplish-pink, but if you buy a variety six-pack, there always seem to be several of that color. And if you buy them before they are root-bound they won’t have started to bloom so you can’t even know what color you are setting out.

This year the two 4-inch potted zinnias I bought, in orange and yellow, are not remarkable. But the mix of six are very showy. They are huge; I think they are the “State Fair” variety. I guess I have broadened my mind, because I don’t even mind their hodgepodge of different colors by the driveway.

One I planted in the far corner of the back yard, sort of behind the lavender bush because there was an empty spot. I hadn’t gone to that corner of the garden for a week, and was surprised to see flowers poking out all the way to the sidewalk. It’s as though that dark pink zinnia went into contortions just so I would look at it.

In the front yard I planted some trailing orange zinnias, which I think look nicer flowing out of a pot, but they are cheery enough here. All through springtime when I was planting the front garden, I knew I was not getting the look I wanted. I didn’t have enough time or energy to comb the county for just the right colors and types of plants to create the perfect design.

But now that I have run across this poem — another one by Valerie Worth who wrote the “Library” poem — I have been encouraged to philosophize about the flowers and see a lesson in them. I know that I am very pleased every time I arrive home and they come into view all bright and in their proper places after all.

Zinnias

Zinnias, stout and stiff,
Stand no nonsense: their colors
Stare, their leaves
Grow straight out, their petals
Jut like clipped cardboard,
Round, in neat flat rings.

Even cut and bunched,
Arranged to please us
In the house, in water, they
Will hardly wilt—I know
Someone like zinnias; I wish
I were like zinnias.

–Valerie Worth

Bearish boy slays Tablespoon.

July 14, 2014family, humor, poetryLewis CarrollGretchenJoanna

When Nikkipolani made a comment on a recent post about the humor of computer-generated translations, I was reminded of a goofy homeschooling “project” of 20+ years ago. It was nothing assigned, but we were all centered around the home for our learning at the time, providing time for this sort of activity.

Some of our kids were memorizing Lewis Carroll’s “Jabberwocky” just for fun when we bought our first computer and discovered the inadequacy of spelling-checkers. Soon the children submitted the rhyme of the hour to the built-in program for analysis, and then they memorized that wacky “corrected” version.

Eventually a second run through Spell Checker produced another funny nonsense poem. And I later found one derived from “Jabberwocky” by someone else’s computer, which was renamed as well, as “Tablespoons” ! All of them have their charming lines, so I will be extravagant and self-indulgent and put them all here. Just not the original — you can find that easily enough if you didn’t ever commit it to memory yourself.

Jabberwocky by Spell Checker No. 1

‘Twas brisling, and the stilly toes
Did gyre and gamble in the wade;
All missy were the borogoves,
And the mom rates outreach.

“Beware the Jabberwocky, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jujube bird, and shun
The furious Band director!”

He took his volume sword in hand:
Long time the Manxmen foe he fought,–
So rested he by the Hum hum tree,
And stood a while in thought.

And as in offish thought he stood,
The Jabberwocky, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffing through the bulgy wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The volume blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with his head
He went galloping back.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwocky?
Come to my arms, my bearish boy!
O fabulous day! Callow! Chalet!”
He chortled in his joy.

‘Twas brisling, and the stilly toes
Did gyre and gamble in the wade;
All missy were the borogoves,
And the mom rates outreach.

Next, the version that Robert McNally wrote on his Newton computer. The Newton helpfully deciphered it as follows. Jabberwocky a la Newton: [with totally unrelated illustration from the defunct Jabberwocky Magazine]

TABLESPOONS

Teas Willis, and the sticky tours
Did gym and Gibbs in the wake.
All mimes were the borrowers,
And the moderate Belgrade.

“Beware the tablespoon my son,
The teeth that bite, the Claus that catch.
Beware the Subjects bird, and shred
The serious Bandwidth!”

He took his Verbal sword in hand:
Long time the monitors fog he sought,
So rested he by the Tumbled tree,
And stood a while in thought.

And as in selfish thought he stood,
The tablespoon, with eyes of Flame,
Came stifling through the trigger wood,
And troubled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and though,
The Verbal blade went thicker shade.
He left it dead, and with its head,
He went gambling back.

“And host Thai slash the tablespoon?
Come to my arms my bearish boy.
Oh various day! Cartoon! Cathay!”
He charted in his joy.

Teas Willis, and the sticky tours
Did gym and Gibbs in the wake.
All mimes were the borrowers,
And the moderate Belgrade.

Finally, our own spell-checker’s second attempt, which seems to me to have the most culinary and homey perspective. (This fellow’s cartoon seems to catch that mood even from the original.)

Jabberwocky by Spell Checker No. 2

Twos broiling, and the slaty stoves
Did gyre and gimbal in the be;
All mimes were the Porridges,
And the mom rats outrace.

“Beware the Jabberwocky, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jujube bird, and shun
The frumpish Bandersnatch!”

He took his formula sword in hand:
Long time the manhole foe he sought,–
So rested he by the Dumdum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in offish thought he stood,
The Jabberwocky, with eyes of flame,
Came wheeling through the tulle wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The formula blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with his head
He went galumphing back.

“And haft thou slain the Jabberwocky?
Come to my arms, my bearish boy!
O fractious day! Calla! !”
He chortled in his joy.

Twos broiling, and the slaty stoves
Did gyre and gimbal in the be;
All mimes were the porridges,
And the mom rats outrace.

Now tell me, was this a common recreation for a time back in the 90’s? Perhaps children are still having this kind of fun with their technology, but mine barely remember the project. They definitely moved on, but I’m glad I have the mementos of happy and occasionally silly days.