Showing posts with label Emily Dickinson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Emily Dickinson. Show all posts

Sunday, September 1, 2019

September 2019 Poetry Challenge - Storm

Storm-Tossed Ships Wrecked on a Rocky Coast
Johann Christoph Dietzsch
German, 1710-1769
National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.

I write this challenge post as thousands of Floridians and Carolinians await Dorian’s decision on where to make landfall as a category 4 (or worse?) storm. It seems appropriate that the September challenge be related to storms.

Some storms are devastating. What the winds don’t destroy, subsequent flooding may take. Other storms are milder or shorter in length. A sudden burst of thunder, lightning and rain may cool off a hot afternoon, even as it fixes needed nitrogen in the soil.


William Cullen Bryant, an American poet who lived from 1794-1878, wrote about a hurricane:

The Hurricane

LORD of the winds! I feel thee nigh,
I know thy breath in the burning sky!
And I wait, with a thrill in every vein,
For the coming of the hurricane!

And lo! on the wing of the heavy gales,
Through the boundless arch of heaven he sails;
Silent, and slow, and terribly strong,
The mighty shadow is borne along,
Like the dark eternity to come;
While the world below, dismayed and dumb,
Through the calm of the thick hot atmosphere
Looks up at its gloomy folds with fear.


They darken fast—and the golden blaze
Of the sun is quenched in the lurid haze,
And he sends through the shade a funeral ray—
A glare that is neither night nor day,
A beam that touches, with hues of death,
The clouds above and the earth beneath.
To its covert glides the silent bird,
While the hurricane's distant voice is heard,
Uplifted among the mountains round,
And the forests hear and answer the sound.


He is come! he is come! do ye not behold
His ample robes on the wind unrolled?
Giant of air! we bid thee hail!—
How his gray skirts toss in the whirling gale;
How his huge and writhing arms are bent,
To clasp the zone of the firmament,
And fold, at length, in their dark embrace,
From mountain to mountain the visible space.


Darker—still darker! the whirlwinds bear
The dust of the plains to the middle air:
And hark to the crashing, long and loud,
Of the chariot of God in the thunder-cloud!
You may trace its path by the flashes that start
From the rapid wheels where'er they dart,
As the fire-bolts leap to the world below,
And flood the skies with a lurid glow.


What roar is that?—'tis the rain that breaks,
In torrents away from the airy lakes,
Heavily poured on the shuddering ground,
And shedding a nameless horror round,
Ah! well-known woods, and mountains, and skies,
With the very clouds!—ye are lost to my eyes.
I seek ye vainly, and see in your place
The shadowy tempest that sweeps through space,
A whirling ocean that fills the wall
Of the crystal heaven, and buries all.
And I, cut off from the world, remain
Alone with the terrible hurricane.

~ William Cullen Bryant


Another American poet, one who was born when Bryant was about 36 years old and preceded him in death, wrote several poems regarding storms. Here is one:

26

There came a wind like a bugle;
It quivered through the grass,
And a green chill upon the heat
So ominous did pass
We barred the windows and the doors
As from an emerald ghost;
The doom's electric moccason
That very instant passed.
On a strange mob of panting trees,
And fences fled away,
And rivers where the houses ran
The living looked that day.
The bell within the steeple wild
The flying tidings whirled.
How much can come
And much can go,
And yet abide the world!

~ Emily Dickinson

NOTE: This poem was set to music by Aaron Copeland. Also, Dickinson did not title her poems; she only numbered them.


The following poem is from my collection:

A Pequod Sailor Speaks   

The Atlantic rolling onto the sandy shores
of Nantucket, piping plovers and screeching gulls,
oysters and crabs in the inlets,
rising sun painting pastel wrinkles
on ever-moving water—
this was nature as I loved it
in my boyhood.

Broken masts, bereft wives
and fatherless children
tell another story of the sea.
Still, I can’t resist the challenge
to prove my manhood
and test my nature against
the earth’s salty liquid overcoat.

At first it is easy.
We float through languid days
on indolent trade winds under skies
blue as Nantucket violets.
When I watch the sun set, coloring
the infinite spread of fluid ribbons,
I drift into meditative silence.

Sudden winds bellow, curdle foam.
Sword-sharp, they rip the sails, shriek
and break the mast. Lightning stabs
billowing water. The ocean I love bares its teeth,
opens its jaws, eager to swallow ship and crew.
The turncoat sea leaps over the bulwarks,
Judas, kissing the captain.

~ Wilda Morris

From Pequod Poems: Gamming with Moby-Dick (Kelsay Books, 2019). Available for purchase at https://www.amazon.com/s?k=Pequod+Poems&i=stripbooks&ref=nb_sb_noss.


You can read other storm poems at:


The September Challenge:

Write about a storm. It might be a monsoon, a hurricane, or one of those little outbursts (such as those that inspired the storm music in the “Grand Canyon Suite” by Ferde Grofé). It could be a metaphor. Be creative; take the prompt in a unique direction if you can.

Your poem may be free verse or formal. If you use a form, please identify the form when you submit your poem.

Title your poem unless it is a form that does not use titles (don’t follow Emily Dickinson's practice on that!). Single-space. Note that the blog format does not accommodate long lines; if they are used, they have to be broken in two, with the second part indented (as in the poem “Lilith,” one of the November 2018 winners), or the post has to use small print.

You may submit a published poem if you retain copyright, but please include publication data. This applies to poems published in books, journals, newspapers, or on the Internet.

The deadline is September 15. Poems submitted after the deadline will not be considered. There is no charge to enter, so there are no monetary rewards; however, winners are published on this blog. Please don’t stray too far from “family-friendly” language (some children and teens read this blog). No simultaneous submissions, please. You should know by the end of the month whether or not your poem will be published. Decision of the judge or judges is final.

The poet retains copyright on each poem. If a previously unpublished poem wins and is published elsewhere later, please give credit to this blog. I do not register copyright with the US copyright office, but by US law, the copyright belongs to the writer unless the writer assigns it to someone else.

If the same poet wins three months in a row (which has not happened thus far), he or she will be asked not to submit the following two months.

How to Submit Your Poem:

Send one poem only to wildamorris[at]ameritech[dot]net (substitute the @ sign for “at” and a . for “dot”). Put “September Poetry Challenge Submission” in the subject line of your email. Include a brief bio that can be printed with your poem if you are a winner this month. Please put your name and bio UNDER the poem in your email. If the poem has been published before, please put that information UNDER the poem also. NOTE: If you sent your poem to my other email address, or do not use the correct subject line, the poem may get lost and not be considered for publication.

If you submitted a poem on this theme in July, you may revise and resubmit your poem, or submit another poem, if you wish.

Submission of a poem gives permission for the poem to be posted on the blog if it is a winner, so be sure that you put your name (exactly as you would like it to appear if you do win) at the end of the poem.

Poems may be pasted into an email or sent as an attachment (Doc, Docx, rich text or plain text; no pdf files, please). Please do not indent the poem or center it on the page. It helps if you submit the poem in the format used on the blog (Title and poem left-justified; title in bold (not all in capital letters); your name at the bottom of the poem). Also, please do not use multiple spaces instead of commas in the middle of lines. I have no problem with poets using that technique (I sometimes do it myself). However I have difficulty getting the blog to accept and maintain extra spaces.

Poems shorter than 40 lines are generally preferred but longer poems will be considered.




© Wilda Morris

Tuesday, May 1, 2018

May 2018 Poetry Challenge - Spring Poems


It is May 1, and the weather here in the Chicago area is finally spring-like. Winter held parts of the Midwest in its grip for a very long time this year. Winter gifted some of my friends in Door County, Wisconsin, with a thirty-inch snowfall in April. I left home on April 22, disappointed that none of my daffodils had yet won their struggle to bloom. The May poetry challenge will celebrate spring.

Here are two classic poems celebrating the arrival of spring, a less-happy reflection on the season by Emily Dickinson, and contemporary poems by Alan Harris and William Marr.


May Day

A delicate fabric of bird song 
Floats in the air, 
The smell of wet wild earth 
Is everywhere. 

Red small leaves of the maple 
Are clenched like a hand, 
Like girls at their first communion 
The pear trees stand. 

Oh I must pass nothing by 
Without loving it much, 
The raindrop try with my lips, 
The grass with my touch; 

For how can I be sure 
I shall see again 
The world on the first of May 
Shining after the rain?

~ Sara Teasdale

I especially like the images Teasdale writes: the “delicate fabric of bird song” floating in the air, he maple leaves like clenched fists; the pear trees (dressed, I assume, in white blossoms) like girls at their first communion, and the impulse of the poet to capture raindrops in her mouth and touch the fresh grass.


A Golden Day

I found you and I lost you,
All on a gleaming day.
The day was filled with sunshine,
And the land was full of May.

A golden bird was singing
Its melody divine,
I found you and I loved you,
And all the world was mine.

I found you and I lost you,
All on a golden day,
But when I dream of you, dear,
It is always brimming May.

~ Paul Laurence Dunbar

Dunbar’s poem focuses on memories of just one spring day, a day of love and loss.


Emily Dickinson surprises most readers with the following poem:

I dreaded that first robin so,
But he is mastered now,
And I'm accustomed to him grown, —
He hurts a little, though.
I thought if I could only live
Till that first shout got by,
Not all pianos in the woods
Had power to mangle me.
I dared not meet the daffodils,
For fear their yellow gown
Would pierce me with a fashion
So foreign to my own.
I wished the grass would hurry,
So when 't was time to see,
He'd be too tall, the tallest one
Could stretch to look at me.
I could not bear the bees should come,
I wished they'd stay away
In those dim countries where they go:
What word had they for me?
They're here, though; not a creature failed,
No blossom stayed away
In gentle deference to me,
The Queen of Calvary.
Each one salutes me as he goes,
And I my childish plumes
Lift, in bereaved acknowledgment
Of their unthinking drums.

~ Emily Dickinson


In this poem, Dickinson seems to be dealing with depression, or at least meditating on suffering and death. She is the “Queen of Calvary,” not sensing resurrection as one might expect, but seeing the rebirths of spring as signs of the fragility and impermanence of life. The robin is in the yard, the daffodils bloom, the bees are back, but these are not the same robins, daffodils and bees that were here last year.


May Opening

May is most
too awfully grand
for this birdsung
treebreezed
dewdazzled
man.

All winter I worked
freeze-dried and
to the world dead
in my closed-up
house

until this annual
now, when May
gives me to
inhale vigor's gist
from its generous
air.

Today I've opened
windows and doors
to let livingness in
and release husks of
flies and moths and
thoughts.

My breathing replete
with May's mixed balm
of aromatic everyness,
I've fallen again fully
open.

~ Alan Harris

Copyright © 2001 by Alan Harris. All rights reserved.
From An Everywhere Oasis at www.alharris.com

Alan Harris creates new word forms as he writes. May is treebreezed, for instance, and the poet lets in the livingness that comes with spring. He has “fallen again fully open” as spring casts it spell on him.


Spring

such commotion
it can only be
first love

I don't recall ever seeing
so fresh a green

~ William Marr

Originally published in Selected Poems of William Marr (The World Contemporary Poetry Series, The Milky Way Publishing Co., Hong Kong, 2003).


This poem, like the ones by Teasdale, Dunbar, and Harris, shows a love of spring. Marr is known for the succinctness of his poems. He says a lot in a few words.


The May Challenge:

The May Challenge is to submit a poem featuring a poem about spring or featuring a spring month. If you live south of the equator, of course, those spring months are different months than spring in Illinois—but you can write about spring where you live.

Your poem may be free verse or formal. If you use a form, please identify the form when you submit your poem.

Title your poem unless it is a form that does not use titles. Single-space and don’t use lines that are overly long (because the blog format doesn’t accommodate long lines). Read previous poems on the blog to see what line lengths can be accommodated.

You may submit a published poem if you retain copyright, but please include publication data. This applies to poems published in books, journals, newspapers, or on the Internet.

The deadline is May 15. Poems submitted after the deadline will not be considered. There is no charge to enter, so there are no monetary rewards; however winners are published on this blog. Please don’t stray too far from “family-friendly” language (some children read this blog). No simultaneous submissions, please. You should know by the end of the month whether or not your poem will be published on this blog. Decision of the judge or judges is final.

The poet retains copyright on each poem. If a previously unpublished poem wins and is published elsewhere later, please give credit to this blog.

How to Submit Your Poem:

Send one poem only to wildamorris[at]ameritech[dot]net (substitute the @ sign for “at” and a . for “dot”). Put “May Poetry Challenge Submission” in the subject line of your email. Include a brief bio that can be printed with your poem if you are a winner this month. Please put your name and bio under the poem in your email.

Submission of a poem gives permission for the poem to be posted on the blog if it is a winner, so be sure that you put your name (exactly as you would like it to appear if you do win) at the end of the poem.

Poems may be pasted into an email or sent as an attachment (no pdf files, please). Please do not indent the poem or center it on the page. It helps if you submit the poem in the format used on the blog (Title and poem left-justified; title in bold (not all in capital letters); your name at the bottom of the poem). Also, please do not use multiple spaces instead of commas in the middle of lines. I have no problem with poets using that technique (I sometimes do it myself). However I have difficulty getting the blog to accept and maintain extra spaces.

Poems shorter than 40 lines are generally preferred but longer poems will be considered.

Bios:

Alan Harris retired from a 22-year career with Commonwealth Edison, in which he had served as a computer programmer, systems analyst, computer trainer, and Web developer. Between 1982 and 1995 he privately print-published ten books of poems and aphorisms for friends and family. These books and all subsequent poetry collections are now on the Web at Noon Out of Nowhere. His books in PDF format are downloadable at PDF Books. Alan is a past president of the Illinois State Poetry Society and currently maintains the ISPS Web site while residing in Tucson, Arizona.

William Marr has published 23 volumes of poetry (two in English and the rest in his native Chinese language), 3 books of essays, and several books of translations. Chicago Serenade is a trilingual (Chinese/English/French) anthology of his poems published in Paris in 2015. Some of his poems are used in high school and college textbooks in Taiwan, China, England, and Germany. 

P.S.  If anyone knows why some of the print has a white background different  from the rest of the lines, and how to get rid of it, please email me!



© Wilda Morris