Saturday, February 28, 2009

Analysis of Mary Oliver's Cold Poem

“Cold now,
Close to the edge. Almost
unbearable. Clouds
bunch up and boil down
from the north of the white bear.
This tree-splitting morning
I dream of his fat tracks,
the lifesaving suet.”

The first stanza of this poem sets the scene. You can see the cold, feel the cold, all the way down to your bones. The white bear is the cold winter wind, but the clue is in the lifesaving suet. Technically, suet is the fat tissue around the kidneys of some animals like sheep and cattle. In some cultures, suet is used for cooking, but I think this suet is a more literal form.

My lifesaving suet is my passion for writing, my thirst for knowledge. Reading and writing are what gets me through the hard times, the cold times. So often I feel like my life is perpetually in its winter months. "Cold now" and "almost unbearable," so what keeps me going? The life-saving suet; the fat from my past.

“I think of summer with its luminous fruit,
blossoms rounding to berries, leaves,
handfuls of grain.”

We move from "almost unbearable" cold to a memory of "summer with its luminous fruit." I see the summer as the happy moments of life. The luminous fruit and blossoms are the memories we gather in our hearts, storing them away for when the times are cold. These handfuls of grain help to light the darkness, stave off depression and give us hope for the future.

“Maybe what cold is, is the time
we measure the love we have always had, secretly,
for our own bones, the hard knife-edged love
for the warm river of the I, beyond all else; maybe”

The cold of winter is when we measure the love we hold for ourselves; the hard love for "I." It is a drawing inward, a time to look deep inside and find our true self. It is a time of reflecting, finding the problem areas and learning how to change them.

“that is what it means the beauty
of the blue shark cruising toward the tumbling seals.”

Many times there is beauty in fear, beauty in ugliness or violence, so I can see "the beauty of the blue shark cruising toward the tumbling seals." Love can devour, sometimes swallowing emotions whole. So this confusion of cold is likened to our inward desire to consume ourselves. We are the blue shark.

“In the season of snow,
in the immeasurable cold,
we grow cruel but honest; we keep
ourselves alive,
if we can, taking one after another
the necessary bodies of others, the many crushed red flowers.”

We keep ourselves alive by taking “the necessary bodies of others.” That cruel requirement of life, that it takes life and life is taken; we feed life and life becomes beautiful. Whether we eat the bear in winter or ourselves in our loneliness or our lovers in our passion, our lives are consumed with the desire to destroy by partaking in an event we usually associate with health, nutrition, life; but in this case, our lives are the deaths of something else – a memory, a feeling, an emotion.

I've certainly grown more honest even if it is seen as cruel, even if it destroys some things that are beautiful. I think the red flowers at the end might be "crushed" underfoot; therefore, they contrast with the "fat tracks" at the beginning of the poem. That is, the "lifesaving suet" that is left bleeding at the end.

I see this as a poem about aging and growing older. Dreaming of the "fat" times and thinking back to summer are ways of remembering youth, grieving the loss of youth. It's as if the cold brings out the worst in us - cold-hearted survival, or intense love. Only by loving our innermost selves can we hope to love others.

We drain the very essence of the other to continue to hear our own river's song humming in our ears. We continue to collect the suet of memories, the blossoms of happy times, and the crushed red flowers of lessons we have learned along the way.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Time


TIME

Time is elusive
It never ceases
No matter how hard we try
Time keeps marching by

What time is it now
Where did time go
I don't have enough time
When will there be time

Time slows for no man
It ravages every day
Until our time is up and gone
From every dusk and dawn

Thursday, February 19, 2009

February 26th Assignment

Writing prompt by Mary Oliver


Cold Poem

Cold now,
Close to the edge. Almost
unbearable. Clouds
bunch up and boil down
from the north of the white bear.
This tree-splitting morning
I dream of his fat tracks,
the lifesaving suet.

I think of summer with its luminous fruit,
blossoms rounding to berries, leaves,
handfuls of grain.

Maybe what cold is, is the time
we measure the love we have always had, secretly,
for our own bones, the hard knife-edged love
for the warmth river of the I, beyond all else; maybe

that is what it means the beauty
of the blue shark cruising toward the tumbling seals.

In the season of snow,
in the immeasurable cold,
we grow cruel but honest; we keep
ourselves alive,
if we can, taking one after another
the necessary bodies of others, the many
crushed red flowers.



The Assignment:
Give yourself 30 minutes with no phone and no interruptions. Read Mary Oliver's poem, pick a line or two that reasonate with you and WRITE without stopping. Or consider the following writing suggestions:

1.) What do your dreams of "lifesaving suet" look like?

2.) This time of year, do you find yourself thinking of summer? What are the 5 things you miss/look forward to most? Why?

3.) What does this line mean to you?
"Maybe what cold is, is the time we measure the love we have always had, secretly, for our own bones."

4.) Do you find yourself growing "cruel but honest" with the snow or the darkness.

5.) What are your "many crushed red flowers?"

6.) Write about what you anticipate - excitement or dread or both. What are your coping mehanisms? Make a promise to yourself and KEEP it.


We hope to see everyone on Thursday, February 26th at 6:30 p.m.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

February 12th Assignment

So sorry writers, I forgot to post what the assignment was for tonight's meeting!! This is a carry-over from the meetings we missed in January. We are to write a piece about someone who has been an influence in our lives.

Hope to see everyone tonight at the Mercer Public Library @ 6:30 p.m.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Governor's School for the Arts

Congratulations Christine!! You made it past the first creative writing hurdle for the Governor's School for the Arts. Next step, the Transylvania interview and reading in March. Good Luck!!

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Ice Storm

Due to the ice storm that has crippled Mercer County and surrounding areas, the Speaking Out II writing class scheduled for tonight has been canceled. The next scheduled class will be Thursday, February 12th.

Everyone stay safe, keep writing and we'll see you in 2 weeks!

Sunday, January 25, 2009

The Wedding Ring

I recently accepted a challenge from Mama's Losin' It to write about the following topic:

**Tell about a time you stole something.**


THE WEDDING RING

What child - at one time or another - has not stolen something and then been caught by an adult? Most times, it just takes once to cure a child of stealing. This is what happened to me when I was 8 years old.

I loved visiting my grandparents farm in Bohon - a rural community in Kentucky. There ere fields to run through and outbuilding to play in, always something to do. We would visit the farm at least once a week, but during the summer, my brother, sister and I would get to spend an entire week on the farm while our parents went on vacation.

It was during one of our summers at the farm that my little fingers became sticky. It was a rainy day and we were stuck inside to play. The back room where we slept had a bed with a thick fluffy feather mattress. I loved jumping onto that mattress, hitting the fluffiness and then sinking down into the cozy comfort.

Because this room was right off the kitchen and lead right into the backyard, Granny had a hook for hanging her sun bonnet and a little shelf where she kept her wedding ring when she was going to be working in the garden. Of course, at 8, I didn't realize that Granny would take her ring off before working outdoors.

At the time I found Granny's wedding ring, I didn't know it was a wedding ring. I just knew it was a pretty gold ring and I put it in my pocket to take home with me. I don't remember when Granny missed her ring because she never said anything to us kids.

It was a week later after Mom and Dad were back home that I realized what I had done. I was coming down the hallway when I heard Mom and Dad talking.

"She said she's looked everywhere for it," my Mom said.

"Well, it's got to be somewhere," said my Dad. "Is she sure she didn't lose it in the garden?"

"No - she thinks she left it on the shelf in the back room."

Shelf in the back room - as soon as I heard those words, I knew what they were talking about.

"Wh ... at's wrong?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing sweetheart," said my Mom. "Granny Sallee has misplaced her wedding ring."

All the rest of that day, I was sick to my stomach. I hadn't meant to steal Granny's wedding ring - I thought it was just a pretty gold ring. I remember not sleeping well that night, worried about what my parents would say when they found out. Because yes, I knew I was going to have to tell them.

The next day - with the ring gripped tightly in my hand - I went to my Mom. I told here I knew where Granny's ring was and I took my hand from behind my back and showed her the shiny gold ring. Even though I was only 8, I can still remember the look of disappointment on my Mom's face.

She called Granny and told her the ring had been found. Later that night, Daddy drove me to the farm to return Granny's wedding ring. I had to give it back to her and apologize, and at the time, it was the hardest thing I had ever done.

It's amazing how one thing can effect the course of your life. I never stole anything after that one incident. I couldn't stand the look of disappointment from my parents and grandparents.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Hope Is In the Air


The enthusiasm is contagious! Everything is building to a crescendo for this all important day in history. Hope is in the air and with hope comes the emergence of a new day in America.

After agonizing over whether to allow my daughter to stay home from school today - I did decide YES - today ended up being a snow day. So now she can stay home without fear of all the work she's missing!

My hubby called last night - he is in Washington for work - and he said the crowds and the traffic are unbelievable! He said just going a short distance takes hours and hours. But he did say most people are excited and even helpful. Plus, he got to see Keith Olbermann doing Countdown from the temporary set for MSNBC!

Today is one of those "Where were you" moments in history our children and grandchildren will be talking about. Write down your hopes and feelings. Talk to your family about what is important to you. Someday, a family member will feel honored to know what YOU were feeling on this important day.

Remember to sign-up and volunteer your services to your community. Even if it is only a small step, every little small step counts towards making our nation stronger.

Happy Inauguration! God Bless America!

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Class Canceled

Wait - before you hop out in the cold tonight, read this:

DUE TO THE FRIGID WEATHER WHICH HAS ARRIVED IN HARRODSBURG, TONIGHT'S SPEAKING OUT II CLASS HAS BEEN CANCELED. HOPEFULLY, WITH COOPERATIVE WEATHER, WE WILL BE MEETING AGAIN ON THURSDAY, JANUARY 29TH.

KEEP ON WRITING AND WE'LL SEE YOU IN 2 WEEKS!!

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Hitting the Big Time


For the past 12+ years, I've had a monthly column in our local magazine - Mercer's Magazine. For the past 3 months I've had a weekly column in the local paper - The Harrodsburg Herald. For a town with roughly 20,000+ residents, I've been proud of the work I do.

But this week, I've hit the big time. For the past 2 days, I've had blog posts printed in a regional newspaper - The Lexington Herald-Leader. To say I'm excited is an understatement.

I have been blogging on the Herald-Leader's break-away website - Bluegrass Moms - for just under a year and I've picked up a few more readers for my personal blogs. Now I'm hoping this added exposure will lead to something more.

Here are the links to the 2 published posts: Being the Best and Anti-Resolutions.

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas one and all!!!

Saturday, December 20, 2008

My Angel

My Angel

On windy days, my angel visits me
Blowing a breeze through the silver wind chimes
Reminding me to live my life freely
And not hide away from the rest of the world

On windy days, my angel visits me
Bringing me serenity with each gentle sway
Reminding to live in the present
And keep the past in the past

On windy days, my angel visits me
Whispering secrets with each little chime
Reminding me she is always near
Even though far from my sight she'll be

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Unseen Wonders


Unseen Wonders

I know they're around me every day
The evidence is right before my eyes
A beautiful flower, a glistening rock
A heavenly scent from above

Some will tell you things are not real
If you can't see or smell or feel
But I believe in the unexplainable
The unseeable wonders abound

What of the stars way up in the heavens
Or the fluffy clouds floating by
What of the sun and the moon
I can't touch them, but they're real

So, what of prayers escaping from lips
Hushed and hurried, whispered in vain
Does God really hear, is he listening to all
Faith, I have faith he can hear

So, what of dreams filling our heads
Wishes and goals constantly thought
Do our dreams come true, does wishing make it so
Faith, I have faith dreams come true

So, what of love in this harsh world of ours
Does unconditional love still exist
Or has the me-me generation changed our path
Faith, I have faith love will see us through

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Abstract

This is an abstract poem, written from quotes. At our last meeting, everyone wrote a personal story about an event in their lives - we selected individual quotes from each story and blended them into a poem. Here is my abstract:

Abstract

I'm full and that's not obsolete
Wrought iron like thick licorice crochet
An occasional and personal curiosity
Like an emaciated swan

Feet were ready to fall off
Too sick to play in the playroom
Why, why, why
Do you know the odds of survival

The crinkled black man on TV
Opening the steeple of a fingered church
Loomas valued his privacy
Soaking in the sights and sounds

I never got to ride the carousel
Or listen to domicile music
So my slice of reality doesn't hold up
Like Michael Jackson after a nuclear bomb



(Artwork by Fisherwy)

Venus and Juipter


Like siblings
they hang in the sky
side by side.
Above the moon
mothers them with light
knowing soon
they will be gone.
Just as the children
sitting by my side.
Tony Sexton
12/04/08

Now what

I think I need a class in blogging because I do not see anything to comment on and I know it is there. It took me forever to get to this point. Can someone (hint, hint, Bobbi) help me find what I am trying to find.
Tony

Sunday, December 7, 2008

The Story of “Valhalla: blue”, Briefly



“Valhalla: blue” is a multi-stanza poem of well over 100 lines that took nearly three years to reach the form in which it was published.


The seeds of the poem were, first of all, the song “Your Blue Room”, originally released as being by the Passengers. The Passengers, however, was merely the members of U2 plus Brian Eno. Hence, later releases of the song attribute it to U2. It is a relatively rare track that is both a man addressing his lover and a man addressing God- a common double meaning of many of U2’s songs. The music is very atmospheric and, well, sexy. The second seed was the book “33 Still Lives” by Anton Corbijn. Corbijn’s idea of taking celebrities and placing them in very ordinary poses- so ordinary that some are difficult to recognize if not for the captions accompanying each photograph- is intriguing as well as the bluing technique applied to the photographs. Again, the over-all feel is very atmospheric, very moody. I found them both utterly inspiring. (The title draws from Led Zeppelin’s “The Immigrant Song” and all of this blue.)


But building that inspiring emotion into tangible words on paper was a painful and slow process. For the duration of the writing and revising period, I listened to little else but that one song over and over. I imbued it into the very essence of myself. Also, “33 Still Lives” was already out of print when I discovered its existence, but I knew from the sample photos from it that are posted on Corbijn’s website that the book was pivotal to the poem that sought to arise from them. A somewhat wearying internet search finally secured me a copy of the book which I would often peruse while playing U2’s cathedral-like song in my ear.


The words were stubborn. After six months of absorbing the influences in this manner, however, they began to drip forth- phrase by phrase. Originally, the pieces of “Valhalla: blue” were just that: pieces. Essentially it is made up of a series of smaller poems stitched together into this quilt-like whole. The next six months were spent writing these bits and scraps. Most of what formed in my head was not words at all, but strong images instead. It was as if my brain was taking its own photographs and then I had the challenge of finding words which would communicate these images as clearly as possible.


It was during this phase that I began an unsteady correspondence with Irish poet Michael O’Dea. I had sought him out in the hopes of learning more about the nuts and bolts of poetry, both the writing aspect and the business/ life aspect. In the end, he helped me more than I could have imagined. After one year of toil and trouble, I now had all the elements that would make up the final version. However, they lacked organization, polish, and were merely a shadow of what they would become. I was also a bit exhausted by the creative effort. With his permission, I sent a file of what I had to O’Dea.


He agreed to help me with the revising process, which took at least another six months, possibly a bit longer. One of the things he stressed were to take out as many of the definite articles as I could to facilitate flow and allow for greater variation of interpretation. He also warned against overloading the poem with too many images, a true concern when one has photographs for inspiration. The original version of the poem, all put together, was over 250 lines long. His kind admonitions and careful, thought-out suggestions halved its size. The poem “Inside” was originally part of “Valhalla: blue” but later cut out as one of the pieces that presented possible image overload. “Inside” was made into a poem all its own. Other incised pieces have been further cut and recycled only as a line or two in other poems. There is still rich material in “the outtakes”, as I call them, to be mined in future.


But image overload and an over-dependence on articles- definite and indefinite- were not the only challenges. Perhaps the greatest challenge of the work was organization. I wish I could say there is a method of organization that will work every time, but there isn’t. For “Valhalla: blue”, it was very much a play-it-by-ear enterprise. For that, O’Dea contributed some, but comparatively not much. I relied on gut feeling to tell me when the structure had become acceptable.


After about 2 and ½ years of work, the poem was all but complete. I was new to computers at this time and my computer got a virus. In order to restore the machine to working capacity, I had to wipe the hard drive. But I had not backed it up. Gone were over one hundred poems that I had written and stored therein, including another poem O’Dea had been helping me with. These have never been recovered from oblivion. That episode sent me back to paper for the majority of writing and revising. It seemed as if “Valhalla: blue” had never even happened.


Frantic, I emailed O’Dea. Did he still have a copy of the file on his computer? He did. He sent it to me and revision continued for another month or so before the poem stabilized into final form. He saved the poem from cyber oblivion so that it could be enjoyed by readers of poetry everywhere.


“Valhalla: blue” was published in April 2007 in my first collection of poems entitled “Following Hope”. It is available all over the internet in soft cover format. However, it is also available in hardcover via the publisher at http://www2.xlibris.com/bookstore/bookdisplay.asp?bookid=36988.

Friday, December 5, 2008

Daisy


If I were a flower, I'd be a daisy, white and fluffy with a happy yellow face. I'd be growing on the garden fringes, away from the fancy hybrids with their unusual growing habits and prized blooms. I'm not one for large crowds or loud excitement, so being a wallflower, the plain little daisy would be just my speed.

Hardy growth requiring minimal care, this also describes me to a tee. I'm not one for fashion or makeup or hairdo, preferring instead to enjoy life's little pleasures. Low maintenance - that is me and the daisies.

Childish games from yester-year occupy a summer day. Daisy chains adorn my head and the gentle singing of "He loves me, he loves me not" fills the air. You can always find me out in the garden, passing the time with my friends. Goldenrod and Black-eye Susans will always be pretty, but nothing holds my heart like the quaint eccentric daisy.

Friday, November 21, 2008

1st Class

Thursday, November 20th was the first class for Speaking Out II - a workshop lead by Betty Dean Coleman and Roni Gilpin.

The class introduced themselves by reading short essays composed at the beginning of class. We then read and discussed a personal essay by local author Charles Semones.

Homework:
For next time, write about a unique incident in your life. This can be a poem, personal essay, song, or whatever method you wish to convey your story.

Next meeting:
Thursday, December 4th at 6:30 pm