I had some Wordsworth links open because I was writing a daffodil poem. Here's "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud" and I also looked up "The Preface to the Lyrical Ballads." I had a lot of fun writing that poem, and I like it, but it's not really for sharing.
I shared "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud" complete with daffodil pictures taken by me, in 2010, when I was in the US after the earthquake. This year I am far from daffodils, and when I asked my daughter to send me some daffodil pictures, she sent this photo instead:
My son told me on Monday that I should write a poem about Notre Dame. "Write about how nothing lasts forever," he said, and I replied that that's pretty much what poetry is about. Between those flames and the darkness of Good Friday, I feel this poem is more appropriate than Wordsworth for today:
Spring
Edna St. Vincent Millay
To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
Eventually I probably will write about Notre Dame. I'm not quite ready yet. Meanwhile, I wait for Sunday and resurrection; I do believe in it, even on the days when it seems least likely.
Here's what I posted this week for National Poetry Month:
On Saturday I shared an Issa haiku from Mary Lee, and then responded to it myself.
On Sunday I linked to Michelle H. Barnes' interview with Naomi Shihab Nye.
On Monday it was Jim Daniels Day.
On Tuesday I was thinking about sleeping and islands and sleeping on islands.
On Wednesday I shared some Yusuf Komunyakaa.
On Thursday it was Poem in Your Pocket Day, and I wrote a haibun about what was in my pocket.
Today's line for the Progressive Poem is here.
April
1 Matt @ Radio, Rhythm and Rhyme
2 Kat @ Kathryn Apel
3 Kimberly @ KimberlyHutmacherWrites
4 Jone @ DeoWriter
5 Linda @ TeacherDance
6 Tara @ Going to Walden
7 Ruth @ thereisnosuchthingasagodforsakentown
8 Mary Lee @ A Year of Reading
9 Rebecca @ Rebecca Herzog
10 Janet F. @ Live Your Poem
11 Dani @ Doing the Work that Matters
12 Margaret @ Reflections on the Teche
13 Doraine @ Dori Reads
14 Christie @ Wondering and Wandering
15 Robyn @ Life on the Deckle Edge
16 Carol @ Beyond LiteracyLink
17 Amy @ The Poem Farm
18 Linda @ A Word Edgewise
19 Heidi @ my juicy little universe
20 Buffy @ Buffy's Blog
21 Michelle @ Michelle Kogan
22 Catherine @ Reading to the Core
23 Penny @ a penny and her jots
24 Tabatha @ The Opposite of Indifference
25 Jan @ Bookseestudio
26 Linda @ Write Time
27 Sheila @ Sheila Renfro
28 Liz @ Elizabeth Steinglass
29 Irene @ Live Your Poem
10 comments:
Edna St Vincent Millay makes me smile with her "I know what I know" and uncarpeted stairs and "yearly, down this hill,/April/Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers." Such an unsentimental take, when usually we are all "look! spring!" I feel like I am usually April, babbling and strewing flowers. :-)
I'm not sure how anyone could be ready to write about Notre Dame yet. It's a tragedy still unprocessed. I have no doubt that you will write and it will be heartfelt.
Edna St. Vincent Millay's poem is so sturdy in its way. The question....the reasons for the question and the hints at understanding the answer anyway. Such sass in a poem. Those uncarpeted stairs. They are the mystery to me. I want to rip the carpet off of stairs I find...just to see if there are any answers around for me.
Wow! You have a had a busy poetic week! :) Thanks for sharing this spring poem.
Thank you for these words. I am thinking of Maggie Smith's "Good Bones" too. That your son would suggest you write a poem about Notre Dame reflects a beauty back. Sometimes I am the idiot, sometimes the cynic. I need the idiot days to keep me sane - both live within. Hugs. xxxx
I love the idiot April so much, even though I, too, know what I know. (This reminds me of the conversation I had this week with the child who was reading THE ORIGIN OF THE SPECIES as she walked through the hallway. We talked about holding both science and religion in our brains).
On Thursday, I wrote about Notre-Dame. April squeezed her way into that poem. (Oy. I just realized that one of the girls looking for four leaf clovers was the ORIGIN OF SPECIES girl. Wow.)
Nevertheless, I love idiot April, but respect that there are those who want to bring some reality to us, too. Hopefully, we will be "babbling and strewing flowers." soon, Ruth. Roots & shoots are late this year! Happy Easter! Thanks always for your thought-filled words.
Hadn't read the Millay poem in awhile. Perfect for this week!
Yep, I'm that April idiot, babbling and strewing flowers- even though, I know what I know :)
I'm familiar with Edna St. Vincent Millay's poem and always like reading it again. I loved the haiku at the end of your haibun, "Prayers in my Pocket: A haibun," what a wonderful way to find "comfort." I would love to visit Japan and see the Sakura trees when they are in bloom-I have two very close Japanese friends there. Thanks for your full poetry post Ruth!
Edna St Vincent Millay was the first poet I read for classes that I fell in love with on my own. Her April poem seems just right for this April where the daffodils bloom despite the tragedy and death that seem to erupt on every newscast.
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