amidst it all, remembering

September 11, 2020

remembering: other Septembers

September 1, 1939 ~ September 11, 2001
poem W.H. Auden ~ collage j.i. kleinberg

 

on poetry

June 13, 2018

“As I walk, I construct perfect sentences that I cannot remember later at home. I don’t know if the ineffable poetry of those sentences derived from what they were or from their never having been (written).”
Fernando Pessoa
(June 13, 1888 – November 30, 1935)
. . . . .
quote: The Book of Disquiet
photo

on poetry

May 18, 2018


“But the fact is that writing is the only way in which I am able to cope with the memories which overwhelm me so frequently and so unexpectedly.”
W.G. Sebald
(May 18, 1944 – December 14, 2001)

. . . . .
photo
quote: The Rings of Saturn

Used To Be*

August 13, 2017


2017 Merit Award
By Gary Wade

Used to be
there in that field
a barn half ruined
but still it stood in beauty.

It’s gone now,
shadows of its foundation
erased by plows.

Vacant now, that field,
from it only
a ragged cloud of
blackbirds wheeling, rising.

. . . . .
Gary Wade has been a Bellinghamster since 2005. He is fascinated by farm barns and has photographed many of them. His poem “Used To Be” was inspired by a barn he drove past for many years, then one recent autumn it was gone. There was nothing there but blackbirds gleaning a cornfield.

. . . . .
*Copyright 2017 by Gary Wade. Broadside illustrated by Kim Wulfestieg .

The Spelling Bee*

October 16, 2016

The Spelling Bee by Marlene Chasson
2016 Walk Award
By Marlene Chasson

I walk down the hall to her room.
She is in her chair, eyes closed, hands folded,
her afghan across her knees.
But she is not really there.
She is back in her sixth grade classroom
standing in front of the blackboard
waiting for her teacher to pronounce the next word.
She spells c-a-t-e-g-o-r-i-c-a-l-l-y correctly
and is almost back to her seat
when I say, “Hello there, how are you today?”
She slowly opens her eyes, remembers where she is
And tries not to show her disappointment
when she sees me standing there
with a vase of flowers in my hand.

. . . . .
*Copyright 2016 by Marlene Chasson. Broadside illustrated by Kim Wulfestieg.

Shadow and Light*

September 25, 2016

Shadow and Light -  Susan Chase-Foster
2016 Walk Award
By Susan Chase-Foster

On the anniversary of your death
I amble along our trail
above the bay where even in rain
we poked stones with our sticks
until one speckled specimen
indistinguishable
from the galaxies of granite
you collected in your lifetime
called to you
and you sniffed its earthiness
touched its coolness to your lips
dropped it into your pocket.

Today sun casts my shadow
upon our trail and flickers
light through bordering cedars
like a cèilidh of Irish angels darting
and dancing and singing and stirring
up such wild wisps of wind
that in the confusion I trip over
the golden heartstone
you’ve embedded
in the earth for me
hold it to my ear
hear it beating.

. . . . .
*Copyright 2016 by Susan Chase-Foster. Broadside illustrated by Christian Smith.

on memory

January 27, 2016

Lewis Carroll“It’s a poor sort of memory that only works backwards.”
Lewis Carroll
(Charles Lutwidge Dodgson)
(January 27, 1832 – January 14, 1898)
. . . . .
photo

memory aid

June 9, 2014

Finding Poems

This post has nothing to do with found poetry but instead highlights a resource for those times when poems come to mind in windblown fragments.

Whether you recall a string of words or merely a metaphor, the Library of Congress offers an extensive list of suggestions beyond (and including) your friendly search engine. Each of the links on Lost Titles, Forgotten Rhymes leads to expanded articles and more resources. This might be worth adding to your bookmarks.

One Last Time*

June 16, 2013

Kayla Donovan ~ One Last Time
2013 Walk Award
By Kayla Donovan, 11th grade

Memories of you cross my mind.
I remember all the torturous things
You let me do to you.
All the fun we had playing dress-up
And watching NASCAR all day.
Hiding in your bed hoping Dad
Wouldn’t find me, so I didn’t
Have to go to school and I could
Just be with you all day.

Grandpa, you’re everywhere.
Never forgotten.
I feel you watching over me.
There’s not a day that passes
That I don’t think about you
And wish you were here.
You’re everywhere to me,
Even though you’re ash inside
A small brown box.
I wish I could tell you, in person,
One last time,
How much I love you.

*Copyright 2013 by Kayla Donovan. Placard design by Egress Studio.

Forgetfulness*

June 9, 2013

Andrew Shattuck McBride ~ Forgetfulness
2013 Merit Award
By Andrew Shattuck McBride

Morning fog swaddles like forgetfulness
as I walk through downtown streets toward
the water, always the water. From the top
of the bluff visibility is low; sailboats
at anchor are ghostly, half-remembered.
Noise from the graving dock and shipyard
thrums the stillness. The over-water walkway
arcs out through gauze of sea fog, is barely
visible at its north end. On the water two
goldeneyes push toward shore; their wakes
create a large W. Why is the statue Grace
gone? I’ve forgotten why I’m here—until
I see a great blue heron on a rib of sandstone
outcrop nearby. I put aside my discomfort
over losing something. There’s still time.

*Copyright 2013 by Andrew Shattuck McBride. Placard design by Egress Studio.

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