Time Management Tuesday: It's That Time Of Year When We Talk About Temporal Landmarks And Lent

 Ah, temporal landmarks. Those events, dates in the calendar, that mark a change in our day-to-day lives. We often feel we can get a fresh start when we reach a temporal landmark. We often plan to get a fresh start when a temporal landmark is approaching. That can be school vacations for those people whose lives, because of work or family, revolve around the school year. It can be the beginning of a new calendar year. For writers it can be November, which has become National Novel Writing Month.

For people who observe Lent, one way or another, that can function as a 40-day temporal landmark. A beaut, because you get your fresh start on Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, and you can wrap it up on Good Friday, the end day.

The bottom line is no matter what your spiritual tradition, if it includes temporal landmarks, you can use them to help with planning new beginnings for any kind of project you want to jump start.

And What Are You Doing For Lent This Year, Gail?

Well, since you asked, I do have a Lenten/temporal landmark project this year. It doesn't involve giving something up, the traditional Lenten activity for my ancestors followed. Presumably. Instead, I am doing something extra.

Turns out, I've done this kind of thing before. In 2016, I read some nonfiction during Lent. This year, I'm reading poetry.

I'm not reading random poetry but Ruth Stone's The Essential Ruth Stone, edited by Bianca Stone. I will spare you the details about why I asked for this book for Christmas. Instead, I will say that while I periodically make an attempt at reading poetry, it's not something I naturally gravitate towards. So, though I'd had this book since Christmas, I hadn't touched it.

For Lent, then, I am reading a poem a day from The Essential Ruth Stone. But reading is not enough. I'm studying these things and keeping a record of my thoughts. I'm interacting with this book for Lent. Maybe...interacting with Ruth Stone?

This book looks to have far more than 40 poems, so I don't know what will happen when Easter arrives, and I haven't finished. But I have a Lenten experience going until then. 

I Have A Childlit Connection For You

I've met Ruth's daughter, Phoebe Stone, the author of a number of children's books, including The Romeo and Juliet Code.

Weekend Writer: Writing Prose Poetry, Are You?

Well, it looks as if I'm doing a poetry arc for the Weekend Writer this month, what with it being National Poetry Month and all. Since I have a small interest in prose poetry, that's what this installment is about.

 

Tell Us Gail, What Is A Prose Poem?

These are my own probably not very reliable thoughts on the subject--You know how creative (or narrative) nonfiction is nonfiction that uses elements of fiction to communicate fact? Okay, well, prose poetry is prose that uses poetic elements--say, imagery, metaphor, repetition--to communicate the kinds of emotion or intensity we usually associate with poetry. A hybrid, so to speak.

But if you're smart, you won't take it from me. Check out:

• Prose Poem at Poets.org
• The Poet's Revolt: A Brief Guide to the Prose Poem by Danielle Mitchell at diyMFA 
• Prose Poem or Flash Fiction--What's the Difference? by Jessica Terson at Trish Hopkinson--A Selfish Poet
  

I am very new to reading prose poetry. To date, my favorite is How to Make Boxed Shells: 8 Easy Steps by Brenda Nicholas at Unbroken.

And Now For Something That's Not About Prose Poetry

School Library Journal has a list of 2021's children's books of poetry and about poetry. Presumably these are just the books published so far this year.

The Weekend Writer: Something For You Poets

I am not a major fan of reading poetry, and I've never been interested in writing it. That changed--a little bit--when I took a flash workshop last summer that included prose poetry. Turns out I do have a little interest in that.

As a result, I hoped to do a little something about National Poetry Month, which we are about a third of the way through right now. I hope to submit my prose poem somewhere--anywhere--by April 30th, for one thing.

For another, I have some material to offer you from The Cincinnati Review on how to tell if a poem is ready to submit. Given what I said in my second paragraph, you can see why this article caught my eye. 

As long as I'm doing a poetry post, here's a link to 10 Wonderful Children's Poets You Should Know at Literary Hub. 

Here's another list, with a number of additional names, this one from What Do We Do All Day?

New Year's Poetry

Check out this poetry blog post by author Tanita Davis, because:

1. It includes a definition of the word "nocturne." Come on. I am not the only person who didn't know that.
2. She wrote a New Year's poem that includes the words "bullet journal."

An Ode To An Ode

Slate has a wonderful article by Johanna Winant, All Our Work Holds Good, about poet Donald Hall's Ox-Cart Man.  Among other things, Winant describes how the text of the book was originally a slightly different poem with a different tone.

Donald Hall died last month.

I loved this book when my children were young. I saw it as a tribute to everyday life, something I'm interested in with art. (By the way, Barbara Cooney won the Caldecott Medal for her illustrations for this book.) I read the book a number of times with my kids and think it's time to gift a copy to some other family members.

It would be wonderful to find this book promoted in bookstores this summer as part of a Hall memorial-type display, a way to introduce children to adult poetry. Or just to a really good picture book.

Environmental Book Club

I am sure you recall that last weekend I went on a writing retreat where I read some nature poetry. Well, I've read some more. I'm rather liking this stuff.

I picked up the picture book Snow Toward Evening: A Year in a River Valley (illustrations by Thomas Locker and poetry selected by Josette Frank) at a library without giving it a lot of thought. When I sat down to read it, I wasn't expecting much. I am not much of a poetry reader, have little knowledge of it, and it's not something I have much experience of.

Why, I may be much like a child reader in those ways.

I was taken with Snow Toward Evening immediately. The first poem, January by John Updike (Updike! Never got into him, either.) begins "The days are short,/The sun a spark/Hung thin between/The dark and dark." How is that for an image?

There are only twelve poems here, one for each month of the year, with a nature/landscape illustration. The poetry isn't children's poetry (Updike!), though it is very accessible. (Hey, I liked it.) The book functions:

• As beautiful in and of itself
• As a lead-in to adult poets for young readers who may be unfamiliar with them (Updike!)
• As a cross-over book for adults.

Unfortunately, you're going to have a hard time finding Snow Toward Evening. It was published in 1990 and is out-of-print. Way out-of-print, presumably. Both the illustrator and compiler are dead, and it looks as if finding some good used editions could take a little effort. Personally, I'm suggesting this as a gift some family member can make the effort to find for me.

By the way, the book title comes from the poem Snow Toward Evening by Melville Cane, which is included in this collection.

SLAM Poetry Competition In Eastern Connecticut

The Douglas Library in Hebron, Connecticut and Young@ArtCT in Manchester are co-sponsoring a SLAM Poetry Competition for competitors 14 and older. The event is free for performers and audience members and will be held in the Douglas Library's Community Room on Friday, April 7th from 7:00 to 10:00 PM.


Check out the competition rules.

Cookies and hot chocolate will be provided.

The Gauthier Christmas Poetry Slam

This year Gauthier Christmas involved a poetry slam, the results of which determined who got the three best spots in a Yankee Gift Swap. I finished my poem this fall. I thought nothing more about it until a week or two ago, when I start hearing that other people are writing limericks and song parodies. I thought my eight-line work was going to be a stinking masterpiece. It was a little angst-ridden, with a theme about yearning for experience.

Christmas Presents

An hour with my child
Two hours on a hike
Three hours in a movie theater
Four hours on a bike.

A rainy day to read
A weekend in the snow
Three weeks for travel
Does Santa know?

You were supposed to get extra points for presentation, so I prepared the same kind of opening I would use for a public reading. I was feeling pretty confident that I could hammer my relatives into the ground.

Then the first poet gets up and reads his poem. It's this incredibly moving piece involving every member of the family. He referred to his cousins, my sons, as his brothers. His mother was nearly in tears. Then he ended it with a funny kicker. Another poet got up and did a moving poem about family that he had memorized. He choked and sat down part way through. Then he got up a bit later, started again, and nailed it. It was a stinking Olympic moment. Followed by his fiancee, a middle school librarian who had prepared a little artificial poetree with Christmas lights and haiku ornaments. The civil engineer in the family did four haiku, also, one for each season.

I did not win, place, nor show. But I did come home with a gift card to a decent restaurant, anyway.

"Firefly July" Wins NEIBA Award

Firefly July, A Year of Very Short Poems, which was our Environmental Book Club selection earlier this month, has won the 2014 New England Independent Booksellers Association New England Book Award in the children's category. These awards are given for books either about New England, set in New England, or by an author living in New England.

Firefly July is an anthology compiled by Paul B. Janeczko and illustrated by Melissa Sweet.

Environmental Book Club

You've probably noticed that I'm interested in seasonal books that embrace living with nature as it changes over the course of a year. Firefly July: A Year of Very Short Poems, selected by Paul B. Janeczko and illustrated by Melissa Sweet, called to me.

The poems here definitely are short.  While they are lovely and spot on with their imagery, I think they're a little uneven in their seasonal connection. Though if used as a read aloud, that would be a good discussion point with young listeners. What, exactly, does a poem called Window about looking out at the night from a railroad car have to do with spring?

Whether or not you agree with dividing these poems up as representing the seasons of the year, this is a good collection, and a lovely looking one, for all who appreciate their poetry on the short side, whatever your age.

By the way, Connecticut author Patricia Hubbell has a poem in Firefly July.

My Maxine Kumin Story

I heard on Twitter this afternoon that poet Maxine Kumin has died.

I only dabble in the reading of poetry, so I can't claim any big knowledge of Kumin as a poet. (Though I will stick out my neck and say that that is one damn fine cover on her book, Our Ground Time Here Will Be Brief.) I feel a very tenuous connection with Kumin, though, in a ships-passing-in-the-night sort of way.

I have probably told a variation of this story here before, and I definitely have at The Millions. When I was in college, I worked summers at the Bread Loaf School of English and Writers' Conference. One year, Anne Sexton dropped by during the writers' conference to visit her friend Maxine Kumin who was there. I, though an English major, didn't know who either of these women were. So during Sexton's reading, I went swimming with friends. It wasn't until she died soon thereafter that I realized her significance.

This is the story of my life, folks. I often don't quite get with the program. Just miss the boat. Probably wouldn't have run for the gangplank if I'd realized it was about to leave without me.

Maxine Kumin was also an essayist, and I have stumbled upon a couple of her pieces in New England publications. Right now I'm feeling that I'd like to sample some more of those.

And guess what? Kumin was 88 years old and has a new book of poetry, And Short the Season, coming out in April. Yes!

Ruth Stone, Poet

Last night, while reading some Vermont newspapers my cousin had sent down here to another family member, I learned that Ruth Stone died in November. I have yet to read any of her work, but I'm still a bit obsessed with writers who had Vermont connections during the time I was growing up there. (I've done more than a dozen posts here about Shirley Jackson.) Ruth had a big one. For many years she lived in a town that was part of our union school system and one of her daughters was in my eighth grade math class. I don't remember her after that point, probably because, as I learned later, Ruth moved around teaching at colleges.

Her personal story is compelling. She was widowed in her forties and raised three children by herself. She published her first book of poetry in 1959, the year her husband died, but her next one didn't come out until 1971. Her major success didn't come until she was in her 80s and 90s. She won the National Book Award in 2002 and was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize in 2009.

She stayed the course, both with her work and with her family. I am impressed.

Ruth Stone's daughter, Phoebe, is the author of The Romeo and Juliet Code, published last year.

A Little Nepotism

I've just learned that one of those literary tournaments that have become popular recently was conducted back in April at a website called Scarriet. The Nootch referred to in the first paragraph is my cousin.

A Poetry Friday Post. Seriously.

So I was talking with my mother yesterday afternoon, and she tells me that her friend, Marion, wrote a poem that very morning. This was noteworthy news in that Marion and Shirl are those best friends from high school that you read about in books, so I've been hearing about her for a while (as in all my life), and never has the subject of poetry ever come up. Forget about writing one.

"She ever done this before?" I asked.

"Not that I can recall," Mom replied. "It was good, though. It was about a dog running down the street. She got the idea when she woke up and started writing. And by the time her sister came into the kitchen for breakfast, she was done."

I found this very touching. The idea of someone who is closing in on eighty-two years old suddenly being moved to write her first poem is incredibly fascinating. I should write a short story about it, since a poem would be quite beyond me.

Really, I respect the creative urge. And I love the idea that absolutely anyone at absolutely any time can feel the need to create. I'm not talking about quality, I don't care if it was good or bad, I just am intrigued that this happened at all.

Hey, Isn't It Poetry Friday?

Forgive me. But isn't poetry always in good taste?

Yeah, you guessed it. I found this at Bookslut.

Hey, Isn't It Poetry Friday?

A poem by Sherman Alexie. Notice that he has a new book of poetry coming out next year.

By way of Blog of a Bookslut.

Does Anyone Else See A Joke About Listening To Poetry As Punishment In All This?

My Aunt Tessy, who was the first generation of Gauthiers to work at Middlebury College's Bread Loaf Campus kitchen, was outraged when she heard about the vandalism at the nearby Robert Frost home last winter. I think she may have actually seen the inside of the place, whereas I only walked up the road to the yard. I may have looked into some windows once. I did help prepare the food for the annual picnics held there a few times, though. That's kind of a connection to a famous place, isn't it?

Aunt Tessy may have actually heard Robert Frost speak once, which would explain why she got so much more hopped up about this than I did.

Anyway, part of the miscreants' punishment is to take classes on Frost's poetry. Man, I bet they're sorry now. Nothing could be worth having to listen to poetry.

The Marie Blogs

Today, Poetry Friday, I bring to your attention a new (since this past December) poetry blog called A View from the Potholes. This blog has nothing to do with kidlit, but it does carry info on literary journals and poets. Plus, it's maintained by a poet named Marie Gauthier, and this blog is maintained by a writer named Gail Marie Gauthier.*

And as I said earlier, it's Poetry Friday.

*I believe that all my Gauthier aunts were named Marie. Literally. Marie Therese, Marie Aline, Marie Cecile, Marie Simone, Marie... Well, there was a bunch of them. According to family lore, back in the day, French Canadian Catholic families gave all their daughters Marie (a variation of Mary) for their saint's name, and the saint's name came first. This was all lost on us kids who thought we had an Aunt Tessy, an Aunt Aline, an Aunt Simmy, and so on. I used to hear something similar regarding Irish Catholic girl names.

I mention all this because I've been known to cannibalize my family for work. If I can find a way to use this detail, I will.

A Sort Of Poetry Post

Friday is poetry day in the kidlitosphere, and I have a post that is not poetry, by a longshot, but about poetry. Poetry's Eternal Youths from the Guardian's The Blog Books (an awkward phrase) deals with the subject of young poets. Very young poets.

The piece rambles, and, personally, I still haven't determined exactly what point the author was trying to make. But you might get more out of it.

Misspent Youth

The child_lit listserv discussion of Twilight has morphed into some fond reminiscing about The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes. In reference to Twilight someone had suggested sacrifice is usually considered romantic, but she could only think of examples of men making sacrifices in literature. I suggested Bess the landlord's daughter offing herself in The Highwayman in order to warn her lover that the law was waiting for him was an example of a woman making a sacrifice.

I didn't expect much of a response to that because child_lit is quite an academic group, and while I loved The Highwayman when I was in sixth or seventh grade, I read a few years ago that many critics consider it to be...well...crapola. But it was like a dam broke! Masses of people loved The Highwayman in their tender youths.

One person even linked to a musical version by Phil Ochs. It's not exactly something that leaves you humming. You can hear it again while looking at illustrations.