"Old Bones" by Gary Snyder

While this isn't a seasonal poem, I just enjoyed it so much that I wanted to share. The picture below is of a scree slope (the setting of the poem). While perhaps not exactly the scene Gary Snyder had in mind, the image is useful if scree (accumulation of broken rock fragments)  is new to you.

Old Bones
by Gary Snyder

Out there walking round, looking out for food,

a rootstock, a birdcall, a seed that you can crack

plucking, digging, snaring, snagging,

         barely getting by,

 

no food out there on dusty slopes of scree—

carry some—look for some,

go for a hungry dream.

Deer bone, Dall sheep,

         bones hunger home.

 

Out there somewhere

a shrine for the old ones,

the dust of the old bones,

         old songs and tales.

 

What we ate—who ate what—

         how we all prevailed.

Poem found at: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/243088
Image found at: http://tedmuller.us/Outdoor/Hiking/2009/090803-KinneyLakesLoop.htm

Limerick #1

Something fun for your Tuesday. Enjoy!

"Or Death and December" by George Garrett

Today's poem post is for all those pet parents who perhaps don't absolutely love taking their dog out at ridiculous hours of the morning (especially in the winter). However, let me say know that I don't know who these people are or if they even exist. See, I know you think, "Wow, I'm so lucky!" every time you have the privilege to pull on your boots and put on that overstuffed burnt orange coat from 1986 saved especially for these early morning outings because nothing made past 1990 seems to keep you as warm or looks so cool. Not to mention that you're still rockin' your pj pants and dark circles under your eyes. The fact that it's December and freezing out just makes it ten times better...

Or Death and December
by George Garrett

The Roman Catholic bells of Princeton, New Jersey,
wake me from rousing dreams into a resounding hangover.
Sweet Jesus, my life is hateful to me.
Seven a.m. and time to walk my dog on a leash.

Ice on the sidewalk and in the gutters,
and the wind comes down our one-way street
like a deuce-and-a-half, a six-by, a semi,
huge with a cold load of growls.

There's not only leaf left to bear witness,
with twitch and scuttle, rattle and rasp,
against the blatant roaring of the wrongway wind.
Only my nose running and my face frozen

into a kind of grin which has nothing to do
with the ice and the wind or death and December,
but joy pure and simple when my black and tan puppy,
for the first time every, lifts his hind leg to pee.

Found at: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/238922

3-year-old recites poem, "Litany" by Billy Collins

This is just too cute. Enjoy!

[little tree] by E.E. Cummings

I’m going to spend another chilly 3 hours tonight volunteering on the Christmas tree lot for the Downtown Optimists so this little poem about a little tree by E.E. Cummings felt in order. Plus, any of you who know me know that I am all for talking to the trees. Enjoy!

[little tree]

by E.E. Cummings

little tree

little silent Christmas tree

you are so little

you are more like a flower

who found you in the green forest

and were you very sorry to come away?

see          i will comfort you

because you smell so sweetly

i will kiss your cool bark

and hug you safe and tight

just as your mother would,

only don't be afraid

look          the spangles

that sleep all the year in a dark box

dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine,

the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads,

put up your little arms

and i'll give them all to you to hold

every finger shall have its ring

and there won't be a single place dark or unhappy

then when you're quite dressed

you'll stand in the window for everyone to see

and how they'll stare!

oh but you'll be very proud

and my little sister and i will take hands

and looking up at our beautiful tree

we'll dance and sing

"Noel Noel"

Found at: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/176724

A Christmas Song by Norman Williams

It's been a long, long time since I've posted. If you have any awareness of time, you know this. I won't bother you with excuses but lately wedding planning, applying to school, and work has taken precedence over poetry and blogging. However, the holiday season always re-energizes me with the hope that I am more talented than I give myself credit for the other 11 months of the year and yes, I can do it all. It's a bit of a disillusioned state fueled by sugar cookies and eggnog but let's run with it and see if I can keep to my own motto this holiday season and make time for poetry. We'll start off with this incredible poem by Norman Williams. I won't say much on it other than I'm mesmerized by how cold it and uneasy it leaves me. I love the juxtaposition of warm fuzzy Christmas songs (which aren't that warm and fuzzy on closer look) and then the stark, haunting images he lays out. Let yourself digest this poem at your own pace. Enjoy!

A Christmas Song
By Norman Williams

                    Christmas is coming. The goose is getting fat
                    Please put a penny in the old man’s hat.
                    If you haven’t got a penny, a ha’penny will do.
                    If you haven’t got a ha’penny, Gold bless you.

Tonight the wide, wet flakes of snow
Drift down like Christmas suicides,
Layering the eaves and boughs until
The landscape seems transformed, as from
A night of talk or love. I’ve come
From cankered ports and railroad hubs
To winter in a northern state:
Three months of wind and little light.
Wood split, flue cleaned, and ashes hauled,
I am now proof against the cold
And make a place before the stove.
Mired fast in middle age, possessed
Of staved-in barn and brambled lot,
I think of that fierce-minded woman
Whom I loved, painting in a small,
Unheated room, or of a friend,
Sharp-ribbed from poverty, who framed
And fitted out his house by hand
And writes each night by kerosene.
I think, that is, of others who
Withdrew from commerce and the world
To work for joy instead of gain.
O would that I could gather them
This Yuletide, and shower them with coins.

“A Christmas Song” from One Unblinking Eye by Norman Williams

"Wind on the Hill" by A. A. Milne

What a terrible blog mother I've been! Neglecting it for months! But whether you're in school or not, September feels like a time to start over.  Oh poor blog. Perhaps if I buy it a new lunch box with a generic superhero on the front it will forgive me? Either way, I will ask for forgiveness and try again. And in honor of school starting, I'm resorting to one of my favorite groups of poems - children's poetry. I hope it makes you think of circle time and new pencil smell...

Wind on the Hill
by A.A. Milne

No one can tell me,
Nobody knows,
Where the wind comes from,
Where the wind goes.

It's flying from somewhere
As fast as it can,
I couldn't keep up with it,
Not if I ran.

But if I stopped holding
The string of my kite,
It would blow with the wind
For a day and a night.

And then when I found it,
Wherever it blew,
I should know that the wind
Had been going there too.

So then I could tell them
Where the wind goes...
But where the wind comes from
Nobody knows.