Category Archives: poetry

Why a tree should be this sweet.

love, nature, poetry, ,

So far I myself have only encountered the black locust tree, and I understand that its pods are toxic. I think the flowers smell pretty nice, but I read today that they are blah, compared to the honey locust. I hope I will one day meet those honey flowers, too (the picture below I found online), but this poem is about more than just one delicious species.

HONEY LOCUST

Who can tell how lovely in June is the
….honey locust tree, or why
a tree should be so sweet and live
….in this world? Each white blossom
on a dangle of white flowers holds one green seed–
….a new life. Also each blossom on a dangle of flower holds a flask
of fragrance called Heaven, which is never sealed.
….The bees circle the tree and dive into it. They are crazy
with gratitude. They are working like farmers. They are as
….happy as saints. After awhile the flowers begin to
wilt and drop down into the grass. Welcome
….shines in the grass.

…………………………………….Every year I gather
handfuls of blossoms and eat of their mealiness; the honey
….melts in my mouth, the seeds make me strong,
both when they are crisp and ripe, and even at the end
….when their petals have turned dully yellow.

…………………………………………………………………..So it is
if the heart has devoted itself to love, there is
….not a single inch of emptiness. Gladness gleams
all the way to the grave.

-Mary Oliver

Existing in the middle is best.

food and cooking, poetry

THURSDAY

Because the most difficult part about making something, also the best,
Is existing in the middle,
Sustaining an act of radical imagination,
I simmered a broth: onion, lemon, a big handful of mint.

The phone rang. So with my left
Hand I answered it,
Sautéing the rice, then adding the broth
Slowly, one ladle at a time, with my right. What’s up?

The miracle of risotto, it’s easy to miss, is the moment when the husks dissolve,
Each grain of rice releasing its tiny explosion of starch.

If you take it off the heat just then, let it sit
While you shave the parmesan into paper-thin curls,
It will be perfectly creamy,
But will still have a bite.

There will be dishes to do,
The moon will rise,
And everyone you love will be safe.

-James Longenbach

 

 

Notable birthdays of May 29th.

culture, history, poetry, , , , , , ,

I frequently look in on Garrison Keillor’s The Writer’s Almanac, but rarely do I find every item from his column interesting, as I did today. Today is a reprint of what was in the column in 2017. Of course, it being the birthday of G.K. Chesterton, I wanted to read what Keillor might say about that favorite writer of mine. But Bob Hope and Oswald Spengler were also born on the 29th of May. Spengler studied the history of civilizations, and published the book The Decline of the West in 1918.

A quote from Christopher Hitchens is included in this piece, which I found quite a contrast to the legacies of the other three men; it made me feel sorry for him.

Keillor leads off with the poem, “A Dream of the Future,” by Joyce Sutphen, which I think ties in nicely with the subject of Spengler’s thesis about the “blossoming and withering” of cultures over time.

If any of this piques your interest, check out The Writer’s Almanac.