Start to attach

The mind is not a vessel to be filled but a fire to be kindled.
~Plutarch

Happy Poetry Friday! How have you been? I'm getting ready to celebrate my parents' 55th anniversary next week. Today, we have a fun-to-read-aloud poem from the magazine Stone Soup (100% written and illustrated by kids ages 6-13)

sparks from a bonfire

A lot of nature with a little bit of red
By Ethan Issadore, Age 11

A lot of nature with a little bit of red,
And that is to be said.
Trees and forests for miles on end.
I forget the cityscape, but I try to pretend.
The branches start to bend,
And then there is a crack.
The fire starts to sizzle and glow, like preparing an attack.
We huddle around the fire,
Though we have one more desire.
At least we do not need to “brrr.”
We collect the ingredients and start to stir.
The fire grows higher and higher...

read the rest here

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I'm going to be traveling next week-- to VA to see my parents and to NH to see Ben's mom-- so I will catch you the week after. Marcie Flinchum Atkins has the Poetry Friday round-up. Thanks, Marcie!

The Journey

in 1897, [Elizabeth Shippen Green] took up illustration study formally with the venerable Howard Pyle at the Drexel school. Her favorite teachers, Pyle, Anshutz, and Vonnoh, were the same teachers whom influenced Maxfield Parrish at the same august art institutions.
~National Museum of American Illustration

For Art Thursday, an illustration by Elizabeth Shippen Green.

The Journey
Illustration for a series of poems by Josephine Preston Peabody entitled "The Little Past," Dec. 1903
by Elizabeth Shippen Green

Never Been Small

We all should get to feel like there's something powerful and beautiful about who we are.
~Shonda Rhimes

For Music Monday, Jennarie with Never Been Small:

Bill Withers

The National Recording Registry is a list of sound recordings that "are culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant, and/or inform or reflect life in the United States." The registry was established by the National Recording Preservation Act of 2000.
~Wikipedia

Bill Withers and his daughter Corey

Happy Poetry Friday! I heard recently that the Library of Congress added the latest "Sound Recordings of the Year" to their National Recording Registry, including songwriter and singer Bill Withers' Ain't No Sunshine.

Mr. Withers was inspired to write Ain't No Sunshine by a movie! (Days of Wine and Roses, I think)

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
And this house just ain't no home
Anytime she goes away

Bill Withers sounded amazing live. Take a listen:



He didn't write very many songs. I can't remember exactly how he put it, but he said he wrote just enough that he had one when he needed it.

Bill Withers also said, upon being inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame: "What few songs I wrote during my brief career, there ain't a genre that somebody didn't record them in. I'm not a virtuoso, but I was able to write songs that people could identify with. I don't think I've done bad for a guy from Slab Fork, West Virginia." He thought being from West Virginia encouraged him to write Lean on Me because rural people were more likely to help each other.

About writing Lovely Day:
"The way [co-writer] Skip was, every day was just a lovely day. He was an optimist. If I had sat down with the same music and my collaborator had been somebody else with a different personality, it probably would have caused something else to cross my mind lyrically."



From Just the Two of Us:
We look for love, no time for tears
Wasted water's all that is
And it don't make no flowers grow

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Reflections on the Teche has the Poetry Friday round-up. Thanks, Margaret!

The honey harvest

To make a prairie, it takes a clover and one bee—
one clover, and a bee,
and revery.
The revery alone will do,
if bees are few.
– Emily Dickinson

For Art Thursday, The honey harvest by Riccardo Pellegrini. I'm not exactly sure what he's doing here, but it looks like he's not very well-protected!

The honey harvest (1892)
by Riccardo Pellegrini

Make a big wish

May you find what you Need here.
~Mon Rovîa

For Music Monday, songs from Mon Rovîa and John Prine. Mon Rovîa says that when he writes songs, "he dials into something within, a process he calls 'downloading from the source,' and song springs out." (Teen Vogue)



John Prine, Fish and Whistle:

Dew dresses

From the Latin word for “patchwork garment,” a cento is a literary work collaged entirely from other authors’ verses or passages. In their earliest forms, centos were often composed as tribute, such as those by Byzantine empress Eudocia Augusta, which paid homage to Homer.
~Poetry Foundation

Happy Poetry Friday! How was your week?

An inspiring found poem today. Doesn't Elinor Ann Walker do a lovely job of stitching these lines together?

A Cento of Serene Length
by Elinor Ann Walker
title after Gertrude Stein

My body craves dresses, a single seam falling,
flowers swirling in a pattern,
a coral neck scarf. A hand (not mine)
restless under each buffeting layer,

so I alter the pattern to fit a phantom of me,
the blue and the dim and the dark cloths.
I began to feather-stitch a ring around the moon.

I have spread my dreams under your feet,
folded my sorrows. I have. I have...


read the rest here

Sources: Kim Addonizio, Mary Jo Bang, Andrea Blancas Beltran, Victoria Chang, Toi Derricotte, Rachel Hadas, Hazel Hall (more than one line), Saeed Jones, Deborah Paredez, Linda Pastan, Angela Shaw, Anya Silver, Gertrude Stein, Wallace Stevens, May Swenson, Chase Twichell, William Butler Yeats (more than one line).

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Robyn Hood Black is hosting the Poetry Friday round-up. Thanks, Robyn!

A herd

The shepherd always tries to persuade the sheep that their interests and his own are the same.
~Stendhal

For Art Thursday, sheep and their people (and a wolf):

Ave Maria crossing the Lake
by Giovanni Segantini

Illustration from Pictures from English Literature
by Thomas Cobb

Shepherd with herd by the water
by Heinrich von Zügel

The Right of Way
by Frederick Walker

Feeding time
by Luigi Chialiva

Shepherd boy with lamb
by Giovanni Segantini

Illustration from An Argosy of Fables
by Paul Bransom

Spinning 'round again

I’m spinning ‘round again
Oh the world inside my head
~Telenova

For Music Monday, Australian band Telenova with "Discothèque Inside My Head":



A bonus video by wise and helpful Rajiv Surendra:

let there be mountains singing in all directions

I hate the summer.
~Anne Lamott

If I were to rank the seasons, summer would come in last, due to my being kakotheres ("unfitted to endure summer's heat"). This morning when I was walking the dogs, I tried to think of a word that combines "hot" and "angry" (since "hangry" is already taken). I'm open to suggestions, but in the meantime, here's a poem with a more upbeat take on summer from Manny Loley, who includes some Diné words in his work:

Let There Be
by Manny Loley
for Jaiden Peter Morgan

A good poem
is summer
       my nephew said
     mirage rising
from corn fields
midday
pollen on our tongues
each syllable
flecked with sunbeams
and names not said
shiye’ you should know
the voice isn’t ours alone
    but a dwelling space


read the rest here

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Gregory Orr:



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Bookseedstudio has the Poetry Friday round-up. Thanks, Jan!

Leonora Carrington

[Leonora] Carrington made history in 2005 when her painting Juggler (1954) sold at auction for $713,000, which was believed to be the highest price paid for a work by a living Surrealist artist. Throughout the second half of the 20th century and into the 21st, she was the subject of many exhibitions in Mexico and the United States—and after 1990 in England as well. When she died at age 94, Carrington was believed to be the last of the Surrealists.
~Noami Blumberg for Britannica

For Art Thursday, sculptures by surrealist Leonora Carrington. She is particularly known for her paintings (and stories) but I wanted to focus on these cool pieces:

Sculpture in Germany
by Leonora Carrington
photo by sebaso

Sculpture from the studio of Leonora Carrington
photo by Secretaría de Cultura Ciudad de México

Sculpture from the studio of Leonora Carrington
photo by Secretaría de Cultura Ciudad de México

Sculpture from the studio of Leonora Carrington
photo by Secretaría de Cultura Ciudad de México

Sculpture from the studio of Leonora Carrington
photo by Secretaría de Cultura Ciudad de México

Sculpture from the studio of Leonora Carrington
photo by Secretaría de Cultura Ciudad de México

P.S. There's a children's book about her!

P.S. My 4th of July song.

My darling, my love

Will you come with me or settled be?
~’Stór, A Stór, A Ghrá

For Music Monday, the Friel Sisters with a traditional Irish song:

A friend of humanity

It doesn't matter how you live and die, it's how the bards wrote it down.
~Terry Pratchett

Ancient Irish poetic traditions are very interesting. (I wrote about them in 2016.) There was a whole elaborate system of poet apprenticeship, and "the training took place in schools under an Ollamh and was long and arduous. Poems were created in the dark while lying down. Traditional payment was in gold rings, horses, land or apparel." In the dark while lying down! Sounds like sleeping to me, haha. ("Ollaimh" in Scottish Gaelic means "professor." Perhaps professors are descendants of the highest bards?)

What was the point of bards? This quote "somewhat doubtfully attributed to Giolla Brighde Mac Con Midhe" explains one function: "Were it not for poetry, [we] would not know of a goodly hero after his death nor of his reputation nor his prowess."

Thinking about that reminded me of the tv series The Witcher. Have you seen it? Here we have a bard (Jaskier) trying to convince a hero (The Witcher) that Jaskier can help him out. The Witcher needs the bard to memorialize him so he can go down in history but, more immediately, Jaskier can persuade people to give The Witcher ale and money:



He wiped out your pest, got kicked in his chest
He's a friend of humanity, so give him the rest
That's my epic tale: our champion prevailed
Defeated the villain, now pour him some ale

If you want to be fancy about it:


All this to say, I'm glad in the modern era that we can all be bards and memorialize more than just the "heroes."

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The Miss Rumphius Effect has the Poetry Friday round-up. Thanks, Tricia!

Weaving baskets

The sensation of making something with her hands from just a bunch of sticks and a knife was so empowering that “what started out as merely making a basket,” she explains, “became about making a life.”
~Deborah Needleman talking about Annemarie O'Sullivan

For Art Thursday, basket weaving. Delia Fian has an online class teaching how to weave invasive grasses! What a good idea.

American Indians : first families of the Southwest
John Frederick Huckel, Fred Harvey

The cries of London, circa 1830
John Thomas Smith

Not of the fold
by Frederick Morgan, circa 1881

Blind Basket-Makers, 1871
after Hubert von Herkomer

Frau beim flechten in Fatuc Laran, Lactos, Cova Lima, Osttimor
By David Palazón, Tatoli ba Kultura

For more baskets: Basketmakers' Association (UK) Instagram account

Parting

The return makes one love the farewell.
~Alfred de Musset

I couldn't decide what to post for Music Monday until I heard this cheerful, if pointed, request. It's a song from 1930 that's been performed by everyone from Doris Day to Ella Fitzgerald to the Original Rabbit Foot Spasm Band (?).

Marion and Sobo Band:

William Blake, burning bright

The true method of knowledge is experiment.
~William Blake

Welcome to the Poetry Friday round-up! So glad to have you here!

A while back, I wrote an imaginary interview with Edna St. Vincent Millay, inspired by Renée M. LaTulippe's "interview" with W.B. Yeats. For today, I decided to do one with William Blake. Here we go!

William Blake engraving by Luigi Schiavonetti

QUICK FACTS ABOUT WILLIAM BLAKE
Dates: b. November 28, 1757; d. August 12, 1827
Trivia: He illustrated a book by Mary Wollstonecraft (Mary Shelley's mother)
To read his poetry: Poets.org
For more information: The Blake Society

Please welcome poet, painter, and printmaker William Blake!

Me: Thank you so much for joining us today, Mr. Blake.

B: Hear the voice of the Bard!

Me: That's the plan! Can you tell me where you're from, Mr. Blake?

B: I wander thro’ each charter’d street,
Near where the charter’d Thames does flow.

Me: Ah, yes, London! What made you decide to become a poet?

B: To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour

Me: That sounds wonderful. How has it been going for you?

B: I made a rural pen,
And I stain'd the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear

Me: Excellent.

B: Light doth seize my brain
With frantic pain.

Me: Oh no! So it's not all happy songs.

B: Joy & Woe are woven fine
A Clothing for the soul divine
Under every grief & pine
Runs a joy with silken twine

Me: You said it.

B: The man who never alters his opinion is like standing water, and breeds reptiles of the mind.

Me: Wow. I'm going to have to think about that for a minute.

B: In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

Me: Are you asking me questions? Who's asking questions here?

B: The Questioner who sits so sly
Shall never know how to Reply

Me: ...

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Addendum: The quotes by William Blake are from Introduction to the Songs of Experience, London, Auguries of Innocence, Introduction to the Songs of Innocence, Mad Song, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, and The Tyger.

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Leave your links with Mr. Linky!

Decorative animals

As the nineteenth century was drawing to a close a luxurious new style was taking Europe by storm...It seemed like an antidote to the ugliness of the modern age.
~Stephen Smith on Art Nouveau

For Art Thursday, art professor Anton Seder (again). This time from his Das Thier in der decorativen Kunst (The Animal in Decorative Art), 1896.

Thomas Negovan used Kickstarter to raise money for a beautiful book version of Anton Seder's work. (Out this December, $69)

Not too far

Got stranded on a weird planet, might not be home tonight …

For Music Monday, L'Impératrice featuring Maggie Rogers with "Any Way":

A summer dance

In 1975, [Hartnett] made the great and bold political statement that he was going to no longer write in English but that he was going to "court the language of his people" with the publication of A Farewell to English.
~Wikipedia

Happy Poetry Friday! In addition to a poem, I'm including a quote below that I find encouraging. I started a new hobby/form of exercise this week and it's lovely to hear I don't need to worry about being bad at it. :)

Another mentor poem! This end of this one by Irish poet Michael Hartnett (Mícheál Ó hAirtnéide) struck me as good inspiration, with all the "she was a ..."

from Death of an Irishwoman

...she clenched her brittle hands
around a world
she could not understand.
I loved her from the day she died.
She was a summer dance at the crossroads.
She was a card game where a nose was broken.
She was a song that nobody sings.
She was a house ransacked by soldiers.
She was a language seldom spoken.
She was a child’s purse, full of useless things.

read the whole poem here

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Dare to Care has the Poetry Friday round-up. Thanks, Denise!

Art illusions

I invite you not to be serious!
~Vika Bren

For Art Thursday, Vika Bren, who turns her body into remarkable paintings:

1:5

I burnt any yearning for the industry’s approval to the ground and that’s when it all started working.
~Chinchilla

For Music Monday, Chinchilla with a live version of "1:5." The fly costume is wow, and the lyrics are striking. How often do people sing about ratios, anyway? (Note: she does drop two f-bombs.)

Full and open

How can you sing prayerfully of heaven and earth and all God's wonders without using your hands?
~Mahalia Jackson

Happy Poetry Friday! A poem from the Poetry Foundation today. I've been known to praise imperfection now and then, haha.

At Church, I Tell My Mom She’s Singing Off-Key and She Says,
by Michael Frazier

I ain’t off-key. I just stepped out the key
so when I return,
you can understand the key a little bit better.
The preacher isn’t the only
teacher. Why hit a note on the head
when I can kill it? You mean to tell me
you come here week after week
and want the same old Amazing
Grace? Just cause the Blood will never lose its power
don’t mean a melody won’t.
My ministry may not be song, but I got a song
to sing. I done made it from Sunday
to Sunday. You expect me not to celebrate
and thank God, with my hands raised,
my flats off, my full and open
throat?

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Michael Frazier has a Persona writing prompt that might interest you.

Tangles and Tails has the Poetry Friday round-up. Thanks, Tracey!

Free to make mistakes

Anything that engages your creative mind — the ability to make connections between unrelated things and imagine new ways to communicate — is good for you.
~Girija Kaimal

This Art Thursday, I'm celebrating creativity for everyone...

Links:

Here's how making art helps your brain

Research shows the arts promote mental health

Why being creative is good for you
Quotes from that article: Creativity, according to Maya Angelou, is a bottomless pit: "The more you use it, the more you have," said the novelist.
"Creativity will always provoke your fear," says [Elizabeth] Gilbert, who has come to terms with her own artistic anxiety by "talking to it in a friendly way… I acknowledge its importance and I invite it along". Equally, we should allow, or even embrace, our mistakes.

38 Amazing Ways to Be Creative (Even if You’re Not!)

Agencia de Noticias ANDES

P.S. I'm in New Hampshire celebrating a family member's 85th birthday, so I scheduled this early.

The prettiest tree

Gossett initially only intended to write and perform music for family gatherings around the holiday season, when he would share ideas with family members and create music together.
~Wikipedia

Dylan Gossett for Music Monday:

Singing to myself

Your library is your portrait.
~Holbrook Jackson

First things first, did I cry with gratitude today when the verdict came in? Yes, I did. Am I celebrating right now? Yes, I am.

For Poetry Friday, a mentor poem: Eileen Cleary's "Self Portrait as Dog Breed Description."

Self Portrait as Dog Breed Description
by Eileen Cleary ​

Bred from Irish stock with others bled in.
Thin coat of sunlit hair
with red highlights, often redder
in summer. Scared of loud noises,
sensitive to house plants. Do not leave...

read the rest here (the fourth poem down)

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Catbird photo by David A Mitchell

My response:

Self-portrait as a bird who meows

Appears unassuming at first glance
but has hidden color. Prefers flying
close to the ground to out in the open,
will sit happily in the middle of a
tangle or thicket and sing. Returns
to the same feeders, season after
season. Has been known to chirp, whistle,
warble, carry on at any time of day.
Sounds like more than one bird.

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Salt City Verse has the Poetry Friday round-up. Thanks, Janice!

Joaquín Sorolla y Bastida

You should not know what your picture is to look like until it is done. Just see the picture that is coming.
~Sorolla

For Art Thursday, Spanish painter Joaquín Sorolla y Bastida (1863-1923). When I was reading about the artist, I saw that he wore himself out painting his largest commission, which can be seen in New York City:

Sorolla met Archie Huntington in Paris and signed a contract to paint a series of oils on life in Spain. These 14 magnificent murals, installed to this day in the Hispanic Society of America building in Manhattan, range from 12 to 14 feet in height, and total 227 feet in length. The major commission of his career, it dominated the later years of Sorolla's life...

Despite the immensity of the canvases, Sorolla painted all but one en plein air [painted outdoors], and travelled to the specific locales to paint them...Each mural celebrated the landscape and culture of its region, panoramas composed of throngs of laborers and locals. By 1917 he was, by his own admission, exhausted. [Wikipedia]

Breakwater, San Sebastian
Joaquín Sorolla y Bastida

Bueyes arreando barcas, 1909
Joaquín Sorolla y Bastida

My Family, 1901
Joaquín Sorolla y Bastida

Blind Man of Toledo
Joaquín Sorolla y Bastida

Algarrobo
Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida

La Catedral de Burgos
Joaquín Sorolla y Bastida