Can I Turn On the Radio, by Earl Pickens

I’m off to spend a belated fathers day with my boys, so here is a quick musical uplift for this Sunday from a local favorite of mine. If you ever get to see Earl in concert you’ll be in for a treat. It’s like he’s doing a fun little gig for a few close friends. That’s how he makes you feel. This was, I think his first video a few years back and it always makes me so happy to watch it. The man has talent and a heart, a combination I just love. Enjoy!

Music Rolls on: Wagon Wheel Cover, by Ashes for Trees

Wow, what a week it’s been! Sorry, that was supposed to be a musical week on the blog, but things got away from me. I filled out applications and got a new job, quit the old one; I decided I couldn’t finish my degree and make my dreams come true while breaking my back making my employer’s dreams come true. Sometimes there is only so much one can take, especially when you are already burnt out in a field that was only a second choice as a “back-up” until financial recovery. Sigh… So ahead, I am looking at some internship possibilities, and possibly editing, more poetry submissions, maybe leading that poetry workshop my mentor wanted me to help him with before he got too sick to do it. And while I make that final semester of A grades, I’ll pay the bills with tips. Big relief, really.

Ok, so now it’s time for the segway into the music, and how do I tie this all together. Give me a second, I’m a poet; I can do this. OK. So.

This song is a traveler’s song, a workman’s song. And I have been busting my ass for some time now. I started back to school less than two years ago, part time. But I cannot finish well, working 6 days a week for low pay and no benefits, even if the restaurant is one block away, and even though, thanks to my host-ish personality, I am amazing at what I do. So, I knew I would need to branch off into the things that will add to my degree and make me more hire-able in a field I have wanted to be in for a long time. My frustrations with the status quo were probably just my ego’s way of telling me it was time to hit the kick stand and really start this machine rolling. If you look at this the wrong way, it appears to be a step backward, but I think it’s a leap forward, freeing me from some responsibilities that are preventing me from doing what I want. Ah, here I go again, getting off course in this post. That’s what I don’t want to do.

I want to die free, as the song says, not at the wheel of someone else’s dream. So here is a song by my future sister-in-law, Katie, and her band Ashes for Trees. Their accoustic cover of “Wagon Wheel,” featuring the family animals, Buddy and Benny and honoring for Father’s Day a man who I am happy to know, the father of some very talented and beautiful people in my life.

My Favorite Pianist

I am blessed to be surrounded by such musical talent. My sons, my boyfriend, his family… Well, I don’t know that he needs any further introduction, except that since Stevie Nicks came out with her new album this May, BPK has been in full swing-stevie mode. Here is his recent treatment of one of her classics. I hope you love it as much as I do.

Music Week Series: “Bootcamp for the Broken Hearted,” by Mary Cigarettes

This blog started a few years back when I was feeling rather depressed. In what had become an unhappy relationship, I started blogging again as a way to keep me at my art, anything to keep me writing instead of turning inward again– to those times when friends and relatives would email and leave messages, “Are you dead?” I chose to structure the blog around the three major things in my life that brought me joy, because joy was what I needed to remember. Those things were of course, my incredible children, my poetry, and nature, particularly of the flight feathered sort.

I don’t post much of my own poetry here or on Youtube right now, but that’s mainly because I am working on the old fashioned printed form, submitting for publication. But eventually more and more of them will find audio visual release here as well. I also don’t post enough music, though I do love it, and my beloved is a musician whose videos you might have seen here before. Yes, this blog needs a tad more of that, as well as a tad more of my own journal-ly stuff.

I have been back to school, pursuing my art and my desire to teach (in one form or another), and while I have felt more than a bit discouraged in the workplace lately, a new-found Youtube friend has reminded me that I really do love and care about hospitality. I think I am currently burnt out on it though. The combination of spoiled Americans who sit at the table and create their own menu and are too easily apt to be rude or ungrateful, and the experience of caring more about someone else’s dream than they do… well, frankly I need to get away from this for a while, and concentrate on having more time to feed and please the people I love around my own table. Perhaps later in life I could come back to it as a profession, on my own terms, in a better economy. But for now, dear friends, why don’t you sit with me, pour a glass of wine for yourself from that bottle there, and then come to the kitchen. We’ll cut onions and cry and laugh, and make a rich sauce out of this life.

This week I’ll post some favorite musicians who inspire me in hopes that they inspire and encourage you too. First off, because I was just listening to this song for the tenth time today, here is that friend from Youtube, Mary Cigarettes performing his “Bootcamp for the Broken Hearted.” Coming up later today, a performance by my favorite musician of all, my own beloved Mr. BPK. Stay tuned (and yes, I’m a poet, so I intend that phrase to be understood on multiple levels)!

“Fire and Ice,” a Poem by Robert Frost, read by DJB

Mr. Frost handles here a very serious subject with a touch of dry New England humor as well as a moment or two of serious pondering. The images are all from google searches on hatred, ice, fire and desire. If one is yours and you prefer me not to use it, just let me know. I hope the presentation here does justice to Frost’s intentions.

Fire and Ice
by Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great,
And would suffice.

“For the Young Who Want To,” a Poem by Marge Piercy

phlogiston
1730, “hypothetical inflammatory principle,” formerly believed to exist in all combustible matter, from Mod.L. (1702), from Gk. phlogiston (1610s in this sense), neut. of phlogistos “burnt up, inflammable,” from phlogizein “to set on fire, burn,” from phlox (gen. phlogos ) “flame, blaze” (see bleach). Theory propounded by Stahl (1702), denied by Lavoisier (1775), defended by Priestley but generally abandoned by 1800.
“phlogiston.” Online Etymology Dictionary. Douglas Harper, Historian. 07 Jun. 2011.

There really isn’t much more I can or should say about this poem, except that it is one that a favorite teacher and mentor of mine once read to me. It is splendid advice to the young or unpublished writer about not losing heart. But it is also a reminder that doctors are not doctors because they read about medicine; pilots are not pilots because they read the flight manual, or even 150 books about how to fly. “A real writer really writes,” the poet says, and so for me this piece becomes not only an encouragement but an indictment for those who dream but don’t do. Would you want a mechanic to fix your car if he has read all the specs, and memorized the names of the parts, but has never gotten his precious little hands greasy on a car before? A real poet might not be published, but she has most certainly written poetry.

Ok, ambiguous rant over. Here is the video. I hope you enjoy it.

“For the Young Who Want To”
by Marge Piercy

Talent is what they say
you have after the novel
is published and favorably
reviewed. Beforehand what
you have is a tedious
delusion, a hobby like knitting.

Work is what you have done
after the play is produced
and the audience claps.
Before that friends keep asking
when you are planning to go
out and get a job.

Genius is what they know you
had after the third volume
of remarkable poems. Earlier
they accuse you of withdrawing,
ask why you don’t have a baby,
call you a bum.

The reason people want M.F.A.’s,
take workshops with fancy names
when all you can really
learn is a few techniques,
typing instructions and some-
body else’s mannerisms

is that every artist lacks
a license to hang on the wall
like your optician, your vet
proving you may be a clumsy sadist
whose fillings fall into the stew
but you’re certified a dentist.

The real writer is one
who really writes. Talent
is an invention like phlogiston
after the fact of fire.
Work is its own cure. You have to
like it better than being loved.

Marge Piercy, “For the young who want to” from Circles on the Water: Selected Poems of Marge Piercy (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1982). First appeared in Mother Jones V, no. 4 (May 1980). Copyright © 1980, 1982 by Marge Piercy and Middlemarsh, Inc.

“Night and Day,” a poem by Billy Collins

Watch “Squirtle, the new member of the family” on YouTube

The boys have adoped a new member of the family. Due to her diminutive size, her tortoiseshell color, and her complete adorableness, she has been named Squirtle. Pokemon fans will understand.

Two Speeches Last Night

And both of these speeches made me proud. I am reminded why I voted for this man. It is good to finally have a leader in the White House again. I am also very proud of, and thankful for the troops who helped end the reign of this terrorist-thug Bin Laden, as well as for all the troops who have served to protect the freedom to make posts like this one.

CNN seems to not be cooperating with WordPress on this so please click here to open a new window and watch the second speech first.

As the next video shows, he is not only a presidential class act, but he also has a fine sense of humor. For many reasons this week, I am reminded why I voted for this man. Say what you will, but the United States of America has a leader of whom we can be proud.

Two Poems about Vultures

So, I guess this post fits both the birding and the poetry categories! If I really wanted to stretch it I could say that it also works with the Father section because these poems are purported to be for children. Sigh, but my boys are in their teens up to twenty, and I don’t think I ever read either of these to them.

By the way, it is National Poetry month in the United States, so do something to celebrate the occaision. Here are some ideas from the Academy of American Poets!

I sometimes have the flip camera and tripod in my bag when I feel inspiration approaching, like Stafford’s furring of little snow flakes out there in the atmosphere, heading my way. It served me well, despite a few interruptions and distractions the other night when the restaurant biz slowed down. So I hiked upstairs to the balcony and started recording. You’ll notice the pause between poems when an innocent bar customer passed below me toward the ladies room. Later in another video, the bartender was scared witless when she heard my voice from somewhere, saying “shit that didn’t even make sense!”

I guess I was a bit hard on the anthology, On Wings of Song. It’s gotten great reviews by poets and birders alike. I was just annoyed that Tennyson’s Eagle was not in the Birds of Prey section and that Hawks was another section, as if Hawks were not in fact birds of prey… yeah, I was being a prissy ass, wasn’t I? Well, I might have been alright with the section being changed to “Other Birds of Prey,” since it only featured only Vultures, Corbies and Kytes, but then again, such a great gathering of poems in a little pocket sized hardback probably was a bit tough to put into an order to satisfy every category. I just hope you guys don’t take my ranting and raving too seriously. It’s a great wee book, and I am looking forward to reviewing more from Billy Collins’ anthology Bright Wings as well.

The two poems are sweet little anthropomorphic bits that are fun to read, especially for kids. Hilaire Belloc’s poem is from his sequal to “Bad Child’s Book of Beasts,” “More Beasts for Worse Children.” It was at one time prominently posted on my refrigerator. I should perhaps post it there again.

“Vulture”
by X.J. Kennedy

The vulture’s very like a sack
Set down and left there drooping.
His crooked neck and creaky back
Look badly bent from stooping.
Down to the ground to eat dead cows
So they won’t go to waste
Thus making up in usefulness
For what he lacks in taste.

“The Vulture”
by Hillaire Belloc

The Vulture eats between his meals,
And that’s the reason why
He very, very, rarely feels
As well as you and I.

His eye is dull, his head is bald,
His neck is growing thinner.
Oh! what a lesson for us all
To only eat at dinner!

“Any Fool Can Get Into an Ocean”

Here it is, already more than a week into April and I have done nothing to publicly promote National Poetry Month! Well, it was a busy, crazy start to April, so what can I say? This year I am not attempting to write a poem a day, but I may post some new ones here. I am in more of an editing and submission mode though, so I’ll do some readings here from my YouTube channel in order to promote what others are doing to celebrate the month.

This is my second reading of a poem by Jack Spicer. Read more about him here: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/jack-spicer

As for that crazy hair? I have no comment. :/

“Any Fool Can Get Into an Ocean”

By Jack Spicer 1925–1965 Jack Spicer

 

Any fool can get into an ocean   

But it takes a Goddess   

To get out of one.

What’s true of oceans is true, of course,

Of labyrinths and poems. When you start swimming   

Through riptide of rhythms and the metaphor’s seaweed

You need to be a good swimmer or a born Goddess

To get back out of them

Look at the sea otters bobbing wildly

Out in the middle of the poem

They look so eager and peaceful playing out there where the

    water hardly moves

You might get out through all the waves and rocks

Into the middle of the poem to touch them

But when you’ve tried the blessed water long

Enough to want to start backward

That’s when the fun starts

Unless you’re a poet or an otter or something supernatural

You’ll drown, dear. You’ll drown

Any Greek can get you into a labyrinth

But it takes a hero to get out of one

What’s true of labyrinths is true of course

Of love and memory. When you start remembering.

Source: Poetry (July/August 2008).

Cheers!

From my home to yours.

(And yes, that is non-alcoholic sparkling cider). 

Reading it Well, and Making it Relevant

This is what I am all about, and hats off to the IBlamePoetry channel on YouTube for doing such an excellent job of this. I love these readings. They are true to the poems, and innovative in their presentation. Finding nuggets like this gives me hope and joy that my fascination with poetry is not an obsession with a dying art.

Time to Say it Straight

The religious radicals are not listening. They never have, so why are we pretending to carry on a dialog with them. Haven’t we noticed their fingers in their ears?

This is the best and most honest blog post I’ve read in a long time, and I hope you’ll read it. I’m tired of playing nice, respecting “opinions” while kids die. I’m fed up.

Please read Emily’s post here:

I am frankly weary of being told that I should respect everyone’s opinion. Sorry, you have the opinion that the world is flat? I don’t respect that or you for that matter. It’s 2010, you should know better. You have the “opinion” that blacks are less intelligent or that women are inferior to men? Get off the bus, your seat has been spoken for and I am under no obligation to respect you or your ridiculous bullshit opinion. so get off the cross, we need the wood. All people are created equal, but all opinions are simply NOT.

I’ve had to listen to your point of view for years (insert name of whomever came to me with the Bible under their arm, forgetting that I had attended seminary and had already been clobbered with these seven passages before), while you have not even bothered to invest one minute of your time to listen to or look into mine. I suppose you don’t think about a car crash much until you’re in one, but when one of your children or the child of a friend attempts suicide because of your refusal to believe that you just might be wrong about this, I hope your blessed god forgives your guilty soul.

I am done playing nice with bad people, pretending to be good and hiding behind this false idea about everyone having an equal opinion.  The good ones among them who are truly concerned and want to know more will eventually come around. But we needn’t coddle the racists and bigots out there just because they have an “opinion” that should be heard. It’s been heard and it’s wrong. I’m done listening.