Lesson for the New Year

 

Once I  locked myself

in a broken-down blue refrigerator we had stored in the cellar:

clasp hinges rust-crusted,

wobbly ineffectual handle, chrome on blue enamel.

I crowded myself

between tiny tin icebox and tiny crisper

after taking out both tiny shelves

and stacking them neatly against the fridge’s empty back,

and I slammed the door shut on me

by shoving it open hard

so that it bounced back, sealed,

when it hit its hinge-limit.

Then it had nothing in it but me and dead air

and I played by myself in the dark with its echoes

till my backside started to ache

and, trying to move,

I realized there was no getting out.

Then I quit singing and pretending to hide.

When I shoved on the door in my panic

one of the hinges broke;

though the latch was still caught

one corner of the door hung apart

and I put my mouth to the hole

and yelled for my mother till I was hoarse.

So I didn’t suffocate after all.

How foolish we are—

we, playing in the dark—

to think there are two second chances.

By Julie Juchau, Ensign, Jan. 1975, inside front cover

Awash

I have the grace of a wave—

I’m constantly tumbling over myself

Dotty Drake

Himno Cotidiano (A Daily Hymn) Gabriela Mistral

On this new day                                     

Thou givest me,

Oh Lord                  

Give me my portion of happiness               

And help me to improve.

Give me the gifts of health,              

faith, ardour and audacity;                

the companions of youth;                          

and the harvest of truth,           

reflection and wisdom;                        

the companions of old age.

Happy am I, if at the end of the day,       

I carry with me one enmity less.           

If my steps are guided by one light more,

and I have overcome one more error in my ways.

And if, for my rudeness,                                

no one has shed a tear,                                   

and if, someone was happy          

because of a kindness I showed them.

(segment) by Gabriela Mistral,  Chilean poet.

(my translation)

En este nuevo día
que me concedes, ¡oh, Señor!
dame mi parte de alegría
y haz que consiga ser mejor.

Dame tú el don de la salud,
la fe, el ardor, la intrepidez,
séquito de la juventud;
y la cosecha de verdad,
la reflexión, la sensatez,
séquito de la ancianidad.

Dichoso yo, si al fin del día,
un odio menos llevo en mí;
si una luz más mis pasos guía
y si un error más yo extinguí.

Y si por la rudeza mía
nadie sus lágrimas vertió,
y si alguien tuvo la alegría
que mi ternura le ofreció.

(segmento) por Gabriela Mistral, poeta chilena

It ought to plain

How little you gain

By getting excited and vexed

You’ll always be late

For the previous train

And always in time for the next

My Gift

What can I give him

Poor as I am;

If I were a shepherd,

I would give Him a lamb.

If I were a wise man

I would do my part.

But what can I give Him

I  will give Him my heart

Christina Rossetti

The Meaning of Christmas

Christmas, like the Bible,

Means varied things to man—

To some a reawakening

Of God’s momentous plan.

To some a day of gladness,

A special time and place,

To give a gift, to greet a friend

Or wear a smiling face

But some there are, who seem to me,

Forever set apart;

Who through the years serenely walk

With Christmas in their heart

Evelyn R. Liddell

Extracts From "Journey of the Magi"

"A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter."
.....
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
....
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
....
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
....
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

.....All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This: were we lead all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I have seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different;

....

We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.
T.S.Eliot

painting "The Magi" by James Tissot, 1894

A Christmas Tree

Star,

if you are

a love compassionate

you will walk with us this year.

we face a glacial distance, who are here

huddled

at your feet.

William Burford

In 1976, in grade 11 Office Practice class, your mom learned to manually center typed work on an old typewriter with this poem

The Shepherd Left Behind

"The hour is late," the shepherds said,

   "And the miles are long to wind;
Do you stay here with the sheep, instead!"
   And they left the lad behind.
He heard their feet in the dark ravine,
   The drop of the sheepfold bars,
And then blue stillness flowed between
   The huddled sheep and stars.
He sat him down to wait for dawn,
    His crook across his knees,
And thought of the shepherds moving on
   Under the olive trees.
Herding his flocks in Palestine
   He thought, that lad of old,
How some must follow the Angel's sign
   And some must tend the fold.
And as he mused he took his pipe
   'Twas a shepherd's pipe he had
And there, while the frosty stars grew ripe
   And shone on the shepherd lad,
The first sweet Christmas carol twined
   From the willow's slender stem-
Blown by the shepherd left behind
   To a Babe in Bethlehem.

Mildred Plew Meigs 

picture is part of the painting "Procession of the Magi"
by Benozzo Gossoli
in the Capella dei Maggi

for a panoramic (but small) view http://www.wikipaintings.org/en/benozzo-gozzoli/procession-of-the-magi-1461

From "Definition of Poetry"

Once

I took a course in aesthetics:

Three hours credit

If I could learn

What a poem was.

A poem was

“the record of the best and happiest moments of the best and happiest minds”;

“The best words in the best order”;

“A criticism of life.”

But what was “best”?

....

A poem was metered, rhythmic, regular—

Except free verse.

A poem rhymed—

But not blank verse.

A poem had consonance, assonance, alliteration, onomatopoeia—

Or none of these.   

a poem used a “higher concentration of imagery” than prose.

“But how high is high?

.....

Finally we were told, “A poem should not mean, but be.”

Be what?

To answer the question for myself

I wrote a term paper

“A Definition of Poetry.”

The instructor gave it an “A”

But I never wrote

A poem.

Lynn Z. Bloom

Butler University,  Indianapolis

Why is There So Much Swearing on the Internet?

It's like this, says Katie

"Swearing is like salt in a salt shaker; a little bit adds flavour.
But you're unscrewing the lid and dumping the whole thing all over the place!"

You Speak a Little Nahuatl Every Day

chipotl = chipotle
ahuacatl = avocado
coyotl = coyote
tomatl = tomato
xocolatl = chocolate (remember x is pronounced "ch")
plus all the place names in Mexico like Popocapetl and Tlaxcala
(Holy Toluca!)

These words came from the language of the Aztecs (Nahuatl) to Spanish as the
Conquistadores used their words for the things they found in  New Spain.
and then from Spanish to English.

I also find it hilarious that they had their own expressions and memes,
(according to this great website on words borrowed from Nahuatl
http://www.kith.org/logos/words/lower2/qquetzal.html

"ayoppa in piltihua, ayoppa in tlacatihua" means precisely: YOLO (you live only once)

that's a laughing Aztec

blackguard = blaggard = blagger

The word is blackguard (pronounced blaggard) and means rogue, villain, or dodgy character.
The term seems to date from the 1500s but became used more frequently in literature in the 1800s.

Sometimes spelled as it sounds blaggard
or just blagger, both of which are non-standard spellings.

Most likely originating in the "brigade" of scullions, kitchen knaves and shoe shine boys who roved
the streets making a little money on the side in unscrupulous ways. The term blackguard was eventually applied to the criminal class.

Simile vs Metaphor

"I drew in great lungfuls of biting air, blowing it out again in little silver trumpets of condensation."
(metaphor)

"Tendrils of raw fog floated up from the ice like agonized spirits departing their bodies"
(simile)

"The cold air was a hazy writhing mist."
(metaphor)

"Up and down the long gallery I flew, the silver blades of my skates making the sad scraping sound of a butcher's knife being sharpened energetically on stone."
(that's  imagery, --except with sound)

from I Am Half-Sick of Shadows  by Alan Bradley

2nd photo from tuckamoredew dot wordpress

Extracts from "archy interviews a pharaoh"

yes i am sad
says the majestic mackerel
i am as sad
as the song
of a soudanese jackal
who is wailing for the blood red
moon he cannot reach and rip
.......

on what are you brooding
with such a wistful
wishfulness
there in the silences
confide in me
my imperial pretzel
says i
............

my little pest
says he
you must be respectful
in the presence
of a mighty desolation
little archy
forty centuries of thirst
look down upon you

i am as dry as the heart
of a sand storm
at high noon in hell
i have been lying here
and there
for four thousand years
with silicon in my esophagus
as gravel in my gizzard
thinking
thinking
thinking
of beer

By Don Marquis, in "archy and mehitabel," 1927.   
When you remember this was written during Prohibition in the US, the references to lack of drink become funnier.  Don Marquis said “Drinking used to be a mighty commonplace matter; but Prohibition has brought a smack of adventure into it that makes it really enjoyable.”

"In other words...their fundamental design flaws are completely hidden by their superficial design flaws"

from "So Long and Thanks For All the Fish"
by Douglas Adams

Extract from "Paul Bunyan"

He rode through the woods on a big blue ox,
He had fists as hard as choppin' blocks,
Five hundred pounds and nine feet tall . . . that's Paul.

Talk about workin', when he swung his axe
You could hear it ring for a mile and half.
Then he'd yell "Timber!" and down she'd fall . . . for Paul

..................

But the next time you hear a "Timber!" yell
That sound like it's comin' from the pits of hell,
Then a weird and devilish ghostly wail
Like somebody choppin' on the devil's tail,
Then a shout, a call, a crash, a fall--
That ain't no mortal man at all . . . that's Paul!

by Shel Silverstein

Extracts from "A Legend of Paul Bunyan" Paul S Bourinot

He came,
striding
over the mountain,
the moon slung on  his back,
like a pack,
a great pine
stuck on his shoulder
swayed as he walked,
as he talked
to his blue ox
Babe;
.....
with one step
he was in the next valley
dragging the moon after,
the stars
tangled,
spangled
in the branches of the great pine.

And as he left,
he whistled in the dark
like a far-off train
....
and then, the sounds
fading,
dying,
were lost
in the churn of night, --
and all was still.

by Paul S. Bourinot

Canadian Poet 1893-1969 Best known for children’s verse

image:  Paul Bunyan strapped slabs of bacon to his feet to grease the cookhouse griddle for hungry lumberjacks

"They were regarded as 'right-thinking people' 

who are largely  recognizable as being right-thinking people 

by the mere fact that they hold this view"

from "So Long and Thanks for All the Fish" by Douglas Adams
photo from science daily

"It's a forgery so great it should be worshipped with prayers and gongs and incense"

from "A Bridge of Birds" by Barry Hughart

"If rudeness was not attributable to ignorance,
it could be taken as a sure sign
that one was speaking to a member of the aristocracy."

"It always surprises me after a family row to find that the world outdoors has remained the same..
Perhaps the wind blows anger away."

from "A Red Herring Without Mustard" by Alan Bradley

Cheers

The frogs and the serpents each had a football team,

And I heard their cheerleaders in my dream:

“Bilgewater, bilgewater,” called the frog,

“Bilgewater, bilgewater,

Sis, boom, bog!

Roll ‘em off the log,

Slog ‘em in the sog,

Swamp ‘em, swamp’em,

Muck mire quash!”

“Sisyphus, Sisyphus,” hissed the snake,

“Sibilant, syllabub,

Syllable-loo-ba-lay,

Scylla and Charybdis,

Sumac, asphodel,

How do you spell Success?

With an S-S-S!”

By Eve Merriam

photo from icanhazcheeseburger

"We always want to love the recipients of our charity...but it is not necessary.
Indeed, it is sometimes not possible."

from "A Red Herring Without Mustard" by Alan Bradley

"Many of the 'defects' people have where
people deviate from rational behaviour,
you can attribute to either
the complexity of the problem
or simple rules of thumb
which usually work,
but occasionally backfire"

Steve Leavitt from Freakonomics Podcast

"Those who are regular followers of the doings of Arthur Dent
may have received an impression of his character and habits which,

while it includes the truth,
and of course nothing but the truth,
falls somewhat short in its composition of
'the whole truth'
in all its glorious aspects."

from "So Long and Thanks for All the Fish" by Douglas Adams