I've been wanting to celebrate with Laura Shovan this month and not quite getting there, so our 2-hour "cold delay" (???) this morning seemed like a great opportunity to catch up and write in response to a couple of Laura's Sound Poem Project.
Sadly, my internet seems to be freezing in the pipes along with everything else, and I can't follow the sound links Laura has posted (and I have no idea what's going on with the formatting)...but I can listen to my house waking up and to the crazy creatures outside who don't appear to know that we are setting record low temperatures here in the DC area. It's currently 7* with a wind chill of...
Nine Below Zero
below below
the frozen mark
there's whish and sweep
of wind, and hark--
below below
the frozen sky
snow-winged birds
let fly their cry
below below
the frozen branches
blubbered squirrels
announce their antics
below below
the frozen ground
the bursting bulbs
murmur a sound
of sleeping green,
of hushed persistence...
below our listening:
spring's existence
HM 2015
all rights reserved
**********************
Well, that insta-poem turned into less sound and more my desperate hope of winter's end! Please join Linda--and Laura--over at TeacherDance for today's round-up.
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By: Heidi Mordhorst,
on 2/20/2015
Blog: my juicy little universe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Laura Shovan, snow poems, my own work, sound poems, Add a tag
By: Heidi Mordhorst,
on 1/9/2015
Blog: my juicy little universe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Poetry Friday, snow poems, my own work, British poets, Simon Armitage, Add a tag
My spouse hails from Manchester, England ("England, across the Atlantic Sea, and I'm a genius genius") and all her parents are language and literature specialists. It's become a tradition for me to receive from them gifts of poets less well known on these shores, and this Yuletide I received Paper Aeroplane by Simon Armitage.
The back cover of this Selected Poems 1989-2014 says he's "the first poet of serious artistic intent since Philip Larkin to have achieved popularity," and yet I'm guessing that once again few of us know his work, since mysteriously so little seems to cross the pond. I knew him only as a novelist, and finding out that he's published a ton of poetry collections makes me feel a little ignorant. Here's Simon at the Poetry Foundation, and here's a poem from his new book.
A Glory | Simon Armitage
Right here you made an angel of yourself,
free-fallng backwards into last night's snow,
indenting a straight, neat, cruicified shape,
then flapping your arms, one stroke, a great bird,
to leave the impression of wings. It worked.
Then you found your feet, sprang clear of the print
and the angel remained: fixed, countersunk,
open wide, hosting the whole the sky.
Losing sleep because of it, I backtrack
to the place, out of earshot of the streets,
above the fetch and reach of the town.
The scene of the crime. Five-eights of the moon.
On ground where snow has given up the ghost
it lies on its own, spread-eagled, embossed,
commending itself, star of its own cause.
Priceless thing--the facelesss hood of the head,
grass poking out through the scored spine, the wings
on the turn, becoming feathered, clipped.
Cattle would trample roughshod over it,
hikers might come with pebbles for the eyes,
a choice of fruit for the nose and the lips;
somebody's boy might try it on for size,
might lie down in its shroud, might suit, might fit. Angel,
from under the shade and shelter of trees
I keep watch, wait for the dawn to take you
raise you, imperceptibly, by degrees.
Now, no kidding--I hadn't spent much time with Simon yet--so I just opened my new 232-page volume randomly and found this poem. But, with snow on the ground here and this poem in my own Pumpkin Butterfly, why would I look any further?
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Enjoy the Poetry Friday Roundup today at The Opposite of Indifference with my my friend and local neighbor Tabatha.
By: Stacey,
on 2/10/2010
Blog: TWO WRITING TEACHERS (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: snow poems, poetry, observations, Add a tag
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By: Heidi Mordhorst,
on 2/20/2015
Blog: my juicy little universe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Laura Shovan, snow poems, my own work, sound poems, Add a tag
0 Comments on sound poem as of 2/20/2015 10:21:00 AM
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By: Heidi Mordhorst,
on 1/9/2015
Blog: my juicy little universe (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Poetry Friday, snow poems, my own work, British poets, Simon Armitage, Add a tag
The back cover of this Selected Poems 1989-2014 says he's "the first poet of serious artistic intent since Philip Larkin to have achieved popularity," and yet I'm guessing that once again few of us know his work, since mysteriously so little seems to cross the pond. I knew him only as a novelist, and finding out that he's published a ton of poetry collections makes me feel a little ignorant. Here's Simon at the Poetry Foundation, and here's a poem from his new book.
A Glory | Simon Armitage
Right here you made an angel of yourself,
free-fallng backwards into last night's snow,
indenting a straight, neat, cruicified shape,
then flapping your arms, one stroke, a great bird,
to leave the impression of wings. It worked.
Then you found your feet, sprang clear of the print
and the angel remained: fixed, countersunk,
open wide, hosting the whole the sky.
Losing sleep because of it, I backtrack
to the place, out of earshot of the streets,
above the fetch and reach of the town.
The scene of the crime. Five-eights of the moon.
On ground where snow has given up the ghost
it lies on its own, spread-eagled, embossed,
commending itself, star of its own cause.
Priceless thing--the facelesss hood of the head,
grass poking out through the scored spine, the wings
on the turn, becoming feathered, clipped.
Cattle would trample roughshod over it,
hikers might come with pebbles for the eyes,
a choice of fruit for the nose and the lips;
somebody's boy might try it on for size,
might lie down in its shroud, might suit, might fit. Angel,
from under the shade and shelter of trees
I keep watch, wait for the dawn to take you
raise you, imperceptibly, by degrees.
Now, no kidding--I hadn't spent much time with Simon yet--so I just opened my new 232-page volume randomly and found this poem. But, with snow on the ground here and this poem in my own Pumpkin Butterfly, why would I look any further?
<!--[if gte mso 9]>
Frozen Angels | Heidi Mordhorst
We line up and hold hands
knees locked,
then let go
Falling blindly, keen to feel
the crunch as we break the
perfect snow
Arms drag and legs plow
high and open
shut and low
Doing slowly jumping jacks
flat on our backs in
heavy snow
We sit up and bend knees
balance out
on booted toes
Stepping deeply, keen to see
the shapes we made in
crumpled snow
There they are: our angels frozen
on their backs
in a row
Where the cheerful field should lie
an angel graveyard
in the snow.
Enjoy the Poetry Friday Roundup today at The Opposite of Indifference with my my friend and local neighbor Tabatha.
0 Comments on biannual britpoet feature as of 1/9/2015 2:50:00 PM
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By: Stacey,
on 2/10/2010
Blog: TWO WRITING TEACHERS (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: snow poems, poetry, observations, Add a tag
Schools from Indiana to Pennsylvania (and beyond) are closed today. While I’m spending time working on the book we’re writing, I’ve also spent close to a half hour on Facebook. As a result, I’ve noticed a lot of people are feeling trapped indoors with their kids because the wind gusts are pretty strong. Sledding doesn’t [...]