Poetry Postcard Exchange

The Poetry Postcard Xchange has been so much fun for me. Thank you, Jone, for coordinating it all! Throughout this month, I anticipated those small word surprises in my mailbox and each one was a delight. Besides the gift of  poems, I got to meet Poetry Friday poets from across the country -well, I only exchanged five poems, but received poem postcards from  Hawaii, Louisiana, Alabama, Colorado, and NY. They're a wonderful array of art, photography and creative handcrafted cards. I treasure them all!

Here is my fan of poems from Linda Bie, Irene Latham, Carol Varsalona, Joy Acey and Margaret Simon. Several poems expressed HOPE, which many feel the need for in this new year. Others encouraged me to be OPEN and to SAVOR life's moments. Each one fed my soul.

This newbie to the Xchange may not have followed the spirit of the exchange with my own poems, however. I chose five post cards from my collection and wrote poems using the image as inspiration. So most were not New Year wishes.

One did express hope, however, and I'm sharing that one today since I believe (hope) the recipient has received it. Hi, Linda Mitchell!



The former year has dropped away
like acorns and
golden
oak.
Be still, listen
for new
notes.
Strength will come and
with it,
hope. 


This woodblock postcard by artist Holly Meade of Sedgwick, Maine inspired the poem.  

Holly, a talented woodblock artist, author and children's book illustrator, lost a battle with breast cancer three years ago at age 56. 

A collection of Holly's prints may be viewed at She- Bear Gallery.

Violet has the Round-up at Violet Nesdoly/poems. Thanks for hosting, Violet!

POETRY FRIDAY

MUSEUM HAIKU

 

Welcome to Poetry Friday. I'm sharing one haiku today. Click over to  Diane, Queen of Haiku, at Random Noodling for lots more poetry and inspiration.

This fall we took in the Bernard Langlais retrospective exhibit at the Colby College Museum of Art in Waterville, Maine. My husband took lots of photos.

 Langlais dotted his Maine property with fantastic animals created from any kind of wood he could find. The animal sculptures delighted me and inspired this haiku.

 

lions, tigers, bears

a wooden menagerie

barnyard fun - oh my!

I love writing from museum experiences. Though I wouldn’t exactly call this an ekphrastic haiku! Fun, though.

Langlais’ sculptures are placed throughout Maine on an art trail, and a preserve is being created on his property in Cushing.

ASHLEY BRYAN - NATIONAL TREASURE

Welcome to Poetry Friday and the many poems Amy is rounding up over at The Poem Farm.

Today I want to share a wondrous day filled with generosity and poetry on Little Cranberry Island, also known as Islesford, off the coast of Bar Harbor, Maine.

The sky was clear blue and the ocean sparkled in the sunlight as the mail boat ferried us past lobstermen hauling traps on a late August day. My husband and I were on our way to the new Ashley Bryan Center to pay homage to the 91 year-old storyteller, poet, artist and illustrator I had met thirteen years ago at my MFA program. We also were meeting a relative who lives on this special little island.

Because angels and perhaps muses were leading the way, we met Ashley at the Center, and he invited us to his home. Now you have to understand that Ashley is the most gracious, kind soul on the planet. He travels far and wide to inspire others, supports literacy and well building projects in African countries, and dearly loves the children in the island school named for him. He is the best performance poet, performing files of poems from his spacious memory. And he was part of the Normandy Invasion!



At the small Center, we followed the timeline of his life, discovered his stained glass windows, and marveled at the puppets he has created from flotsam and jetsam found on the island's beaches. His new book gives each puppet its own poem, like the one for Kwesi the elephant.

Later, Jeri, our lunch host, brought us to Ashley's home. The creative energy in that space is astounding. Paintings, puppets, mobiles, African carvings, statues, shells, stones cover every inch of space on walls, surfaces and ceiling. He welcomed us upstairs in his studio where illustrations for his new book are on one work surface, stained glass on another, and large, new paintings stand on the floor. He told us how his long ago introduction to the cellist Pablo Casals changed his approach to painting. Ashley began to follow the rhythm of his hand to paint the interaction in a scene rather than try for realism.

Downstairs at his table, he recited Keats, Dickinson, Langston Hughes and Rilke in both English and German, all to illustrate points he had made about rhythm. He autographed the book I had purchased by the harbor, and acted like we had honored him by visiting on our wedding anniversary.

After saying goodbye, we walked a pebbled beach on Ashley's island. It was one of the most perfect days I can remember.

Poetry Friday

Last week I enjoyed a day at the Maine beach of my childhood with my granddaughter and niece. The sky was gorgeous, the sand hot and the waves crashed and thundered. I was surprised that the water was merely chilly instead of the numbing cold I remembered.

Here’s a poem inspired by watching the girls bob in the swells and body surf.

Water Sprite

You twirl and dip and sing
your song while the water
cradles your arms, your legs
like before your birth when
only you could hear your song–
Water Sprite.

Mermaids in Maine

It's July. It's Maine. The sun is shining and I can't wait to get to the ocean. "The Mermaid" is part of my collection of Maine poems celebrating a Maine summer.

Skate egg cases are known as mermaids’ purses. Horns and tendrils on each of the corners anchor the case to seaweed. Each case contains one egg, and skates lay multiple pairs throughout the breeding season.

In six to twelve months, the young skate slits the side of the case and slips out. Two skates common to the Gulf of Maine are smooth skate, Malacoraja senta, and thorny skate Amblyraja radiate.

The Mermaid

tosses her empty purse
on the sandbar and flips away.
She glides with skates to
egg them on in case
they let slip more
leather pouches
with tassels and tendrils-
cast off without notice.

maine state fair poems

Last week I imbibed white peony tea at the Dushanbe Tea House in Boulder. It was constructed in Kajikistan, Boulder's sister city, dismantled, shipped and reconstructed. Perfect atmosphere. I bet the Persian influence inspired me.

Later, I drafted some poems for my Maine collection. I had to write something after hauling my laptop through security! The poems recall the sights and sounds of Maine's State Fair in Skowhegan.

Midway Magic starts like this:

Carousel croons tinny tunes,
bumper cars spark ozone gas.
Barkers babble, “Step right up!
Hit the target. Three balls, a buck!”

I'm still scanning and trying to be true to the form. It's difficult, but it forces me to rethink word choice and I end up with crisper images. Thanks to Marilyn Nelson for shaking the form finger at me!