Visitors to this blog site know that I often use the title-lead, “Capturing the Moment.” I also use the title-lead, “Capturing the Word,” but have been neglectful in using this lead-in of late. Last July 9th, I posted, “Capturing the Word — Robert Hass.” For the most part, the “Capture the Word” series was my way of featuring writers presented at the “Writers In Performance” series, at Lone Star College – Montgomery, over the years. The series, started by my friend Dave Parsons (Texas State Poet Laureate, 2011) and under the guidance of the Montgomery County Literary Arts Council (MCLAC), has attracted many outstanding writers, including Poet Laureate of the United States, Robert Hass and his wife, Brenda Hillman. They appeared in the early days of the series, March 10, 1996, only three years after the series began. (The series is still going strong, with the next event being the 19th Annual Emily Dickinson Birthday Celebration with Nationally acclaimed Dickinson scholar, author and educator, Brenda Wineapple, who will discuss her book, White Heat: The Friendship of Emily Dickinson and Thomas Wentworth Higginson— and as always the “Gathering of Poets” at Conroe’s Corner Pub.)
Robert Hass is one of contemporary poetry’s most celebrated and widely-read voices, so I was surprised to read of his being clubbed recently during an Occupy Wall Street protest in Berkley, California. Hass and his wife had gone on campus to see what was happening and how the police and students behaved. “If there was trouble, we wanted to do what we could to protect the students,” Hass wrote in today’s New York Times — “Poet-Bashing Police.” Trying to protect Brenda, after a cop shoved her to the ground, Hass was clubbed. Click here to read the opinion piece.
“There are moments when the body is as numinous
as words, days that are the good flesh continuing.
Such tenderness, those afternoons and evenings,
saying blackberry, blackberry, blackberry.”
Our good friend, Kathy shared the following poem. “Thought I would send this to you as I am not a poetry person, but wrote this in an attempt at poetry many years ago regarding the loss of a dear pet (those things have been happening a lot around here…) did the illustration as well,” she wrote. I would say she is a poetry person — we all are! Poetry is open, allowing entrance into the inter feelings of others.
Kathy recently lost another pet friend, which caused her to resurrect this poem written some years ago. I find it to be a beautiful marriage of feelings and emotions that when expressed in words is poetry.
“But, the fence isn’t very high. There are open fields on the other side.”
An Irish Setter Puppy
She was red. She was fluffy. She was six weeks old. She was an Irish Setter puppy.
They were young. They were just married. And not quite ready for a red, fluffy, six-week-old Irish Setter puppy.
Everything was new. Everything was exciting. There were butterflies, and bugs, and lizards, and old shoes and new shoes. Just for an Irish Setter puppy.
But no one is home. There is nothing to do. Just wait until they get home. No fun for an Irish Setter puppy.
Until they get home there are plants, and newspapers and a pair of misplaced tennis shoes. What fun for an Irish Setter puppy!
The fence isn’t very high. There are open fields on the other side. There are birds, and kittens and other puppies for the Irish Setter puppy.
She was red. She was sleek. She was six years old. She was an Irish Setter.
They were older. They were married six years. And not quite ready for the baby. Interesting for an Irish Setter.
But what is a baby? It doesn’t do anything. Much. It lays there and they think it is cute. It doesn’t play. And it doesn’t want to be chewed on. Frustrating to an Irish Setter.
The fence isn’t very high. There are open fields on the other side. There are birds, and cats and other dogs for the Irish Setter.
She was red. She was mature. She was nine years old. She was an Irish Setter.
They were older. There were married nine years. And ready for another baby. It was comfortable for an Irish Setter.
Children are fun! They play with her. They pet her. They feed her. They love her.
But, the fence isn’t very high. There are open fields on the other side. There are birds, and cats and other dogs for the Irish Setter.
She was red with some gray. She was getting stiff. She coughed now and then. She was twelve years old. She was an Irish Setter.
They were mature. They were married twelve years. And not quite ready to say “good-bye” to an Irish Setter.
But the fence is too high. There are open fields on the other side. There are birds, and cats and other dogs, but it’s too hard for the Irish Setter.
She was red. She was soft. She was twelve years old. She was an Irish Setter.
They missed her. But somewhere she is red. She is fluffy and Irish Setter puppy.
The original photo was taken at the Corner Pub in Conroe, Texas during the Christmas season. It was a merry time, but this image of one of the band members out of Austin, on his cell phone gave a different image.
Christmas Eve Alone
In the shadows of street lights Outside the courthouse walls Mused as they access the night
Leaning against the door’s edge Not sure if I should go in Or stay out and take the pledge
Gazing into the dark pub Not penetrating the door Peppered with eyes in the club
My shadow touching each eye Knowing only my dark image Masked in a fear of reply
So, lonely are the shadows Confined by all nearby objects Blurring in with all that glows
After ten months in Tucson, I’m now better able to help out with the cooking. Joy and I both have missed not having a grill. Now we are even more ready for family and friends to visit!
Spoken Groove (Peter Nevland & Paul Finley) at The Wizard Academy, Nov., 2005 — Image by kenne
It’s now been over five years since we first saw Peter Nevland & Paul Finley at The Wizard Academy near Austin, Texas, Roy Williams amazing place. Part of the program included the very talented Peter & Paul. Since I’m on Peter’s email list, I have followed his adventures over the past five years. And as Roy Williams has said, “…hearing Peter perform is like … taking a running leap off the rim of the Grand Canyon with your hands tied behind your back so that the only way to pull the parachute’s ripcord is with your toes.”
kenne
This is not the first time I’ve shared by love of Peter’s talent.
Living at the edge of the mountains
Watching the clouds push up the slopes
Tangling with the peeks, leaving behind
The milk of its firm, but gentle strokes
So stimulating is the foreplay
The setting sun directs its light
Reflecting off nature’s dramatic act
Fondling each to a new height
I watch, as a distant voyeur
Yet trying to sneak a feel
In the role of a mountain man
Without going against her will
In a moment, the thrill is gone
With the setting sun’s brightness
The clouds losing its excitement
Hastened by the shadows of darkness
Now alone at the mountain’s edge
I dream of stroking the night’s way
Bringing on the demons of darkness
Desiring only to stimulate the play
Photo-Artistry by kenne
