A Poem in Your Pocket Day


Poets.org sponsors Poem in You Pocket Day (which was celebrated today) and which offers a wide variety of poems to use for the celebration of the day. Someone surprised me today with a beautiful poem she had written about the latest acts violence and terror  that caused chaos in the city of Boston. She did want me to post it but the truth is that the poem was written with her heart. To those of you who read a poem to someone today I applaud you. Here is a poem I wrote:

A muse lives in the silence of a busy mind

where dreams connect to each other

and daffodils dance

a centipede relaxes and kicks off its shoes

to listen to the hummingbird  who seemed amused

A muse lives in the silence of a busy mind

and eavesdrops in on a conversation with itself

where there is talk of rebellion

just because.

and it decides instead to go to bed.

Melba Christie

A Poem A Day – Maya Angelou


Alone

Lying, thinking

Last night

How to find my soul a home

Where water is not thirsty

And bread loaf is not stone

I came up with one thing

And I don’t believe I’m wrong

That nobody,

But nobody

can make it out here alone.

 

Alone, all alone

Nobody, but nobody

can make it out here alone.

 

There are some millionaires

with money they can’t use

their wives run round like banshees

their children sing the blues

they’ve got expensive doctors

to cure their hearts of stone.

 

Alone, all alone

Nobody, but nobody

can make it out here alone.

 

 

Maya Angelou, author of the best selling I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings and Gather in My Name, also published many poetry collections.

Dr. Angelou received several honorary degrees throughout her life. She wrote television screenplays and appeared in several movies. Her unforgettable voice is always inspiring and makes one sit up in attention.

 

 

A poem inspired by inspirational titles of poems that inspired my life


Happy Poetry Month. Do not Forget Poem in your Pccket Day on April 18th.

Melba Christie at Poemattic

Inspiring blogger LOgo

I have continued to ponder about what inspires me and what inspires my writing. Sometimes what inspires me is a simple line in a poem or narrative. Sometimes it’s the title of a poem. Some poems stay with us forever. You may have read them just at the most proper moment in your life. Maybe a teacher read it in a way you would never forget it. The poem that follows is a poem inspired by inspirational titles. (At least to me they were inspirational.)  There are hundreds of others I can cite. The titles have been italicized. You may recognize some of the poets. Do not forget I love your comments. Please let me know what inspires you to write.

It’s all I have to bring today

can you tell what it is?

it’s …

The Look 

you say,

well by the way you’re right.

I could not…

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The Layers


I have walked through many lives,

some of them my own,

and i am not who I was,

though some principle of being

abides, from which I struggle

not to stray.

When I look behind,

as I am compelled to look

before i can gather strength

to proceed on my journey,

I see the milestones dwindling

toward the horizon

and the slow fires trailing

from abandoned camp-sites,

over which scavenger angels

wheel on heavy wings…

Stanley Kunitz

 

Stanley Kunitz is one of America’s greatest poets. He is a recipient of both the Pulitzer and Bolllinger prizes. President Clinton presented Mr. Kunitz with the National Medal of the Arts in 1993.

 

A Poem A Day #5


What is your Love Philosophy? I will share my poem later this month.

Love’s Philosophy

The fountains mingle with the river

And the rivers with the Ocean,

The winds of Heaven mix for ever

With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single;

All things by a law divine

In one spirit meet and mingle,

Why not I with thine?-

 

See the mountains kiss high Heaven

and the waves clasp one another;

No sister-flower would be forgiven

If it disdained its brother;

And the sunlight clasps the earth

and the moonbeams kiss the sea:

What is all this sweet work worth

if thou kiss not me?

 

Persey Bysshe Shelley, Romantic Poet

 

Percy Bysshe Shelley was born 4 August 1792 at Field Place, near Horsham, Sussex, England. The eldest son of Timothy and Elizabeth Shelley, he stood in line to inherit his grandfather’s considerable estate and a seat in Parilament. He attended Eton College, where he began writing poetry, and went on to Oxford University. His first publication was a Gothic novel, Zastrozzi (1810), in which he voiced his own heretical and atheistic opinions through the villain Zastrozzi. After less than a year at Oxford, he was expelled for writing and circulating a pamphlet promoting atheism.

“In the slightly more than four years before his death in a boat accident, Shelley published seven further volumes of poetry: Rosalind and Helen (which included “Julian and Maddalo” and “Lines Written among the Euganean Hills“) (1819); The CenciPrometheus Unbound; with Other Poems (which included “The Cloud” and his “Ode to the West Wind”); and Oedipus Tyrannus; or, Swellfoot the Tyrant, a satirical drama on the trial for adultery of Queen Caroline which was quickly suppressed (1820); Epipsychidion and Adonais: subtitled “An Elegy on the Death of John Keats” (1821); and Hellas (1822). Many other poems were left in notebooks, some (like the “Letter to Maria Gisborne” and “The Witch of Atlas,” both dating from 1820, and “The Triumph of Life,” left unfinished in 1822, were published among the Posthumous Poems put together by Mary in 1824. Still others (like the satire on Wordsworth, Peter Bell the Third) were held back, only to appear in her full-scale edition of her husband’s poetry published in 1839. His numerous prose works, such as the “Defence of Poetry” and his translation of Plato’s Symposium were brought out a year later, in 1840.

Shelley drowned in the Mediterranean Sea on 8 July 1822. After his body washed ashore near Viareggio, it was cremated according to the dictates of Italian law. His ashes were buried in the Protestant Cemetery (actually, Cimitero Acattolico or non-Catholic Cemetery) in Rome. In 1854, three years after Mary’s death a monument was erected in memory of both the Shelleys.”

*http://knarf.english.upenn.edu/PShelley/bio.html

 

Haiku – Poets


 

Poets

Poets gather here

under the tree of life

ONOMATOPOEIAS!

 

Here is an example of an onomatopoeia poem. I invite you to write one for Poem In Your Pocket Day.

Running Water

water plops into pond

splish-splash downhill

warbling magpies in tree

trilling, melodic thrill

 

whoosh, passing breeze

flags flutter and flap

frog croaks, bird whistles

babbling bubbles from tap

*This poem is by Lee Emmett from Australia

 

 

A Poem A Day –


Another very favorite poet is Mary Oliver. I have many of her poetry books and feel peace and calmness when I read her poems. Mary Oliver, winner of the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry and the National Book Award, is one of the most celebrated and best-selling poets in America. Some of her books include What Do we Know, The Leaf and the Cloud, Winter Hours and Blue Iris among others.

This is an excerpt of one of my favorites:

Some Questions You Might Ask

“Is the soul solid, like iron?

Or is it tender and breakable, like

the wings of a moth in the beak of an owl?

Who has it, and who doesn’t? ”

 

I love questions. I think I have mentioned before I was always asking questions which made my mother crazy sometimes. Ms. Oliver’s poems in general make you ponder and ask many questions, especially about nature and life in general.

 

The Flower of My Town


Gardening and my mother are on my mind today. So once again I would like to share this poem.

Melba Christie at Poemattic

The flower of my Town

There is a song my mother sang

about the flower of her town

apparently it sprung up all around,

All you had to do was look at it

and it would make you smile.

The claim is no one who lived there

ever carried a frown.

Old wives told her that the reason

why hummingbirds loved to hover over

was because as legend had it

the flower was a long lost lover.

The magical bird and the beautiful red flower

had been human at some point in time

but the wrath of one mythical god

changed them forever

for no reason and no rhyme.

The bird destined to find its beloved

hovers over every red flower it sees

hoping one day it may recover

the love it lost and could never get over.

My mother the romantic believed that a love so true

had to end in happiness like in…

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