Poetry City

If I had to live my life again, I would have made a rule to read some poetry and listen to some music at least once every week; for perhaps the parts of my brain now atrophied would thus have been kept active through use. The loss of these tastes is a loss of happiness, and may possibly be injurious to the intellect.
~Charles Darwin

When I was thinking about what I wanted to do for National Poetry Month, I knew only this: I wanted to keep it simple. I thought about a number of ideas, sort of circling around like a dog before it lies down, and finally settled on poems about poetry, books, and words.

I like that kind of poem, e.g. these by Eve Merriam, Billy Collins, William Stafford, Taha Muhammad Ali, and Laura Purdie Salas. I've written some myself, such as this one called Poetry City. Today's poetry happens to be from a book by Dave Morice called Poetry City: A Literary Remembrance of Iowa City, Iowa

I spent two happy years in Iowa City when I was in graduate school, so I recognize some of the places that turn up in Dave's poems. (The poems I'm sharing with you today, though, are not really Iowa City-specific.)

I wonder whether Dave has seen this photo? I'm guessing he has. I thought Poetry Fridayers might be interested in seeing Nobel prize-winning poet Rabindranath Tagore and professor Sudhindra Bose in Iowa City circa 1912:

Take it away, Dave!

Dave Morice, Iowa City Press-Citizen

Books Read You
by Dave Morice

Books read you
Cooks feed you

Pages make you
Ages take you

Words write you
Birds sight you

You sight birds
You write words

You take ages
You make pages

You feed cooks
You read books.

*********

The Ping-Pong Game
by Dave Morice

At the Rec Center,
I watch two people
playing a game
of ping-pong.

The first player's paddle hits the red
ping-pong ball with a squishy splat.
The ball rolls, not bounces,
over the net.

The second player whacks it back.
The first player returns it.
And so on, with a splat
accompanying each player's hit.
And then it dawns on me:
These two players are
ex-girlfriends of mine!

I watch the game a while longer,
And then I shout,
"Hey! Wait a minute!
That's no red ping-pong ball.
That's my heart!"

*********

Poetry City Motto
by Dave Morice

Poetry is a way
Of keeping sane
When things
Get too insane.

Poetry is a way
Of keeping insane
When things
Get too sane.

*********

The Poem Farm has the Poetry Friday round-up today.