Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Sunday, May 25, 2014

Poetry & Remembering Beginnings

I've decided to gather all the poetry I've written over the years in one collection. As I'm editing the poems on this rare, rainy Tucson morning just before heading out on a long bike ride, I stop at this one; one of my favorites. This poem has never been accepted for publication but it is always my favorite. I love remembering how much I love to read and how it is an impetus to travel and explore. A perfect motivator just before a ride.



Literary Connections 

Second grade Plattsburgh, New York
Mrs. Farrah teaches us to read without moving our lips at Oak St School
I am one of the kids who can do it.

Fifth grade, Mr. Oliver reads Harriet the Spy to the class.
After school I read Little House on the Prairie.

In the middle of Eighth Grade my family moves to Rye New Hampshire.
Ms. Balz teaches me grammar; I learn the difference between your and you’re.

In Tenth grade I read Dreiser in English class and fall in love with literature.
I read Welty and Cather and imagine being western.
I read How Green is My Valley
Because I like the name.
I learn, you can go back and have what you like if you remember it well enough
In Twelfth grade Diane and I change the lyrics to a Simon and Garfunkel song
As we ride a Greyhound bus to New York City.
I meet my soul mate and we read Gone With the Wind on stormy winter evenings,
We meet in the library, and talk about our books,
He shows me his world of nature and hiking,
Of Love

We go to Boston, the computer museum, the White Mountains, Prom and
Separate

After high school I watch The Outsiders,
Soda Pop quotes Robert Frost nothing Gold can stay
during a sunset
I read more Frost, he says that my life is a pursuit of a pursuit forever
And begin to understand interminable longing.

I travel to Denver, Philadelphia, Boise, Portland, Fairbanks, and Missoula
Glasgow, Edinburgh, Paris, London, Geneva

Listening to Jackson Browne sing about maps and angels
you've had to hide sometimes, but now you're all right
and start to believe it

Allison and I listen to Lawrence Ferlinghetti at Philips Exeter Academy
It is the first time I hear a poem spoken by its writer
we sneak into his private receptions
This is the first time I see a real poet, up close.

I read Walker, Lessing
I’m searching for my mother’s gardens, too
I try to write my Golden Notebooks.

I remember a line from a book that spoke to me once
you can go back and have what you like if you remember it well enough
I remember
and what I remember becomes a story
and a poem, and a book. 






Sunday, October 7, 2012

The Way It Is - William Stafford

I've quoted this before, but thought of it again:


The Way It Is
 
There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change.  But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.
 
William Stafford

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Writer in Residence; A Poem

With a flick of a gloved hand
a dusting of snow sprays off the green picnic table
that comes with a view of the craggy peaks
of the Rocky Mountains
And at this movement
become writer in residence
On top of East Peak

a new tradition for the holidays
a hike to East Mountain with my dogs
pen and paper
commemorate the tradition
give thanks

While sitting atop the world
watching the landscape
red lodgepole pines, Fraser River Canyon, Continental Divide
sage, wildflowers - buried under snow

And, as writer in residence
there is always a place
to be
Inspired.

KL 1/7/11

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

My Column: The Seasons Always Surprise Me

Last week I wrote my Outdoor Column about a poem my sister wrote and how I thought of the words of her poem while skiing on the Fraser River Trail.

It's amazing the thoughts and pictures your mind remembers while doing an activity outside. Skiing, hiking, and just walking dogs, clears my mind. I think of so many things, remember so many events and people. I'm consider myself lucky when I remember enough of them to write the thoughts down when I get back home.

My sister's poem is amazing. Here is a link to the story: http://www.skyhidailynews.com/article/20101211/NEWS/101219988&parentprofile=search 

One of the important aspects of writing, writing anything: poems, stories, non-fiction - revision. My sister revised her final poem from the original one she sent me and the one line that was edited out, much to my dismay, is this line:

And I believe in the power of the earth
And the power of people to be strong and generous and good.

I just love this line and I think it means so much; I believe, too. I believe in the power of people to be strong, generous, good. The best line, the best thoughts, ever.