It has been a busy week. I have had Zoom meetings or classes that averaged two hours every day for eight days straight. That was quite the marathon! Is it just me or do video meetings take a lot of energy? Or perhaps, I am just out of practice with that much interaction with someone other than my husband?! Meanwhile, work on the Geopark Poetry Map is hotting up, too. Check out this blog on Thursday, 29th April for a special geoheritage poem to celebrate Poetry Day Ireland. This year’s theme for Poetry Day Ireland is “New Directions: Maps and Journeys.” Very appropriate as we await submissions for the Geopark Poetry Map
Spring is exerting its force here in West Cavan. My husband is an ardent gardener and has been planting bulbs around our acre and in pots and containers and down along the lane over the years. With the mandate to take outdoor exercise we have more walkers down our (generally) quiet lane. When we were in the local Spar on a Monday for the weekly supermarket grocery swoop, his flowers were complimented. This may spur him on to more bulb planting this autumn.
The Weekly poem grew out of an exercise with my Saturday Poets. Poems and gardens…what better legacy to leave to posterity.
They walk past the garden admiring
the croci, then daffodils, then
tulips lining our lane where walkers
take their mandated exercise.
Bulbs keep giving, multiplying
year on year. They shall outlast us
more than likely.And long after we
are in the ground they shall cheer up
the walkers and drive bys with trumpets
blaring gold. Cups of pink and red,
purple, white and orange will open
each Spring for someone to admire
their riot of colour. Planted out
just for some future strangers' pleasure.
See you on Thursday for the whole hoopla of Poetry Day Ireland!
Featured image Photo by Yoksel 🌿 Zok on Unsplash
While many friends and strangers have been writing their poem a day for NaPoWriMo/ GloPoWriMo 2020, which ends today, here in Ireland we celebrate Poetry Day Ireland. This year I should have been working with the kids in my local primary school, but such are the lockdown realities that PoetryDayIRL has had to go digital. I am grateful that many poets have created videos or shared sound files. Follow this link and you can find virtual/digital events that have been created on the hoof given lockdown realities. https://www.poetryireland.ie/news/poetry-day-ireland-2020-goes-digital.
The theme for 2020 is “There Will Be Time.” The ‘spark’ came from a poetry resource from NaPoWriMo, which referenced both Robert Browning and Emily Dickinson. As they say…poets steal.
There Will Be Time
Past present, yet to be –
where we once again tread
upon enchanted ground.
When once we cried out time
was all that we wanted,
It was, actually,
the remedy needed.
Not sands dissolving down
the hour glass, or ray’s
tracing shadow over
sundial or yardarm.
No. Enchantment succeeds
by threading the needle
in the haystack. And still
drops, when all time has stopped.
Copyright © Bee Smith, 2020. All rights reserved.
The cuckoo clock that is the featured image is an invitation to visit my final poem of NaPoWriMo GloPoWriMo 2020. Click here https://sojourningsmith.blog/2020/04/30/something-returns/
We are nearly at the end of April and NaPoWriMo. April 30th is also Poetry Day Ireland. Yesterday brought sad news of the death of Irish poet Eavan Boland, a recent editor of the Poetry Ireland Review, at age 75. I once heard her on a BBC Radio 4 broadcast years ago recount her query to women poetry workshop participants. She asked if they would go back to their homes and tell people they were poets. One woman balefully responded, “Why no! They would think I was the kind of woman who never washed her curtains!” Shocking! Which became an example for me. I write poetry. I rarely wash my curtains. I only dust because I have allergies. Today’s prompt is sourced in another woman poet who greatly influenced my life, if not my poetry style. That was Emily Dickinson, who I first encountered in a child’s biography in the Berwick Public Library. I bought a thin volume of her poems from my weekly allowance instead of expanding my Nancy Drew collection.
The NaPoWriMo Day 28 prompt includes an excerpt by Emily Dickinson’s niece, describing the poet’s room, a prompt devised by the Emily Dickinson Museum. “Martha Dickinson Bianchi’s description of her aunt’s cozy room, scented with hyacinths and a crackling stove, warmly recalls the setting decades later. Describe a bedroom from your past in a series of descriptive paragraphs or a poem. It could be your childhood room, your grandmother’s room, a college dormitory or another significant space from your life.“
I scrolled back to my bedroom when I was eleven and first encountered Emily Dickinson.
A Room of One’s Own
is always, in memory, golden.
See my bedspread? It matches the finish
of the glass fronted bookcase, marketed
as the 1960s version of ‘Antique Gold.’
It’s full of volumes by Alcott, Emily Dickinson,
and hand me down vintage Nancy Drews.
I liked things to be mellow and old, too nervous
a child for psychedelic acid yellow and rock n roll.
This was my place to retreat
inside pale green walls of a castle built of books.
I could dream of a life where one day
I would see a moor and sail out overseas
to the origin lands of my foreign doll collection,
all neatly arrayed on their peg board display –
the Dutch girl and Indonesian man, the Greek boy,
the kimonoed geisha brought home
from the New York World’s Fair.
None of that would have done for Emily.
But it was much, much better for me.
Copyright © Bee Smith, 2020. All rights reserved.