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Friday, November 21, 2014

Talking Turkey

Several folks asked me to let them know what I thought of the In the Kingdom of Ice. I blogged about it here earlier this week. 

Becky hosts the Poetry Friday Roundup today over at Tapestry of Words. Stop by for lots of pre-Thanksgiving lyricism. 

I'm looking toward Thanksgiving and lots of cooking and lots of eating and lots of hugs. But all that turkey talk can be stressful on the body. Here is one of my favorite, fast ways to recover, even in the middle of baking pumpkin pie. 

Take a simple ten-minute break and restore your mind, your body and your spirit! 

Lie on the floor, knees bent, feet in line with your hip sockets about 12-16 inches from your buttocks, hands on your front hips. There is no work here, no pressing, just letting your bones sink down into the floor. Ten minutes. That's all. Your spine will begin to relax. Your nervous system will calm.

Just be still. Be conscious of God's presence. Let gravity and stillness work to restore balance and peace. Be grateful, breathe, listen.
Liz Koch in the constructive rest position, for releasing and renewing the psoas muscle
Liz Koch in Constructive Rest Position

And now, poetry. This is the last stanza of John Greenleaf Whittier's "The Pumpkin." Read the entire poem here.

Then thanks for thy present! none sweeter or better
E’er smoked from an oven or circled a platter! 
Fairer hands never wrought at a pastry more fine, 
Brighter eyes never watched o’er its baking, than thine! 
And the prayer, which my mouth is too full to express, 
Swells my heart that thy shadow may never be less, 
That the days of thy lot may be lengthened below, 
And the fame of thy worth like a pumpkin-vine grow, 
And thy life be as sweet, and its last sunset sky 
Golden-tinted and fair as thy own Pumpkin pie!

Enjoy your week. Enjoy your family. Carry a grateful heart with you through every moment. 

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

In the Kingdom of Ice--Reprise

Reprise, because I talked about this book in my last post. But at that point, I had just picked up the book. Now that the reading is done, I must tell you about this adventure.
USS Jeanette in Le Havre, France
I began slowly, reading in my free moments, relishing the deftness of Hampton Sides as he introduced the remarkable characters behind the USS Jeanette expedition to the Arctic Circle. George Washington DeLong, our captain, and his wife Emma; James Gordon Bennett, Jr., owner of the New York Herald and financier of the expedition; John Muir, environmentalist; August Petermann, noted German mapmaker and geographer.

He sets us firmly in the culture of a nation only a decade out of the Civil War, bursting with new technology, giant steam engines, prototypes of Edison's arc lamps and Bell's telephone, delighted with new tastes like Heinz ketchup and the strange new fruit called a banana, filled with a generation of young men men longing to prove themselves like their fathers and brothers had in the war.

By the end of the first section, we have a clear understanding of the current knowledge, or lack thereof, concerning the north pole and the arctic sea. From the mind-boggling assumptions of Symmes Hole to the concept of a warm, open polar sea.

By the time the expedition begins, as a reader, I am fully invested in the cast of characters, and even though I know something of the outcome, I'm committed for the ride.

Then I began finding time to read that wasn't free. I read over meals, between yoga classes, carried the book with me in the car when I left the house in hopes of catching a few moments to follow this incredible sea journey. It's a remarkable telling. Without ever dipping into subjectivity, Sides manages to make me feel like I'm in the heads of these characters. And I read desperately to understand the end, the struggle for survival, the international search and rescue of the men who survived.

One of the blurbs on the back of the book from Ian Frazier says: Read this book in two ways--fast, for the hair-raising excitement of what happens to the brave men of the Jeanette, and then slowly, to take in the clarity of the writing and the unshowy elegance of the structure. He's right! I was aware of the structure throughout, aware of the finesse and elegance of this telling, but I was reading fast. Now it's time to go back and look a little more closely at the technique.

A beautiful book, beautifully written. Read it.

Drawing of the Jeannette cairn in Siberia




Friday, November 7, 2014

In the Kingdom of Ice

I picked up a copy of Booktalk in the library this week and found the blurb for Hampton Sides' new book, In the Kingdom of Ice: The Grand and Terrible Polar Voyage of the USS Jeannette. And, hooray, my library had a copy in, so I grabbed it off the shelf and tucked it under my arm, slightly surprised that everyone else in the library that day weren't flocking to read another gruesome story of icy death. I can't wait to sit down and read.




The front pages of the book include this poem, "The Sinking of the Jeannette" by Joachim Ringelnatz.

In the kingdom of ice, far from the world,
    lamentations rise from the ship,
As she battles the slabs and the growling swirls,
    and writhes in their throttling grip.
The crusted floes crack in fits and in sprees,
    and in fury flog her planked hide,
Spent sailors fall upon supplicant knees,
    yearning for kith and hearthside.
The hungry ice clutches more tightly,
    to check the flight of its prey,
The captain's command rings forthrightly,
    "All hands quit while ye may!"
See how the rough men pine and weep,
    as she falters and slips,
High in the masts, the haunted winds whine,
    a dirge to the truest of ships
That bore them so long, yet now in the murk,
    the proud boat twists to her bed,
And when the day hath ended its work,
    Northern Lights paint her grave purple-red.

Ringelnatz was the pen name for German writer, Hans Böttiche.

Here is a humorous poem written by Ringelnatz in German.


Die Ameisen

In Hamburg lebten zwei Ameisen
die wollten nach Australien reisen.
Bei Altona auf der Chaussee
Da taten ihnen die Beine weh.
Und da verzichteten sie weise
Dann auf den letzten Teil der Reise.


Translated as a limerick:

The Ants

There once were two ants in Westphalia
Who wanted to go to Australia.
But cursing their feet
In a Belgian street
They gave up the trip as a failya.


This one reminds me of "The Ant Explorer," posted here

Explore more Poetry Friday with Diane at Random Noodling.



Friday, October 31, 2014

Silliness

I'm feeling like a little silliness today. Something to lighten the darkness of the week and make us smile. Enjoy!

The ever-so-lovely Linda Baie hosts the round up today at TeacherDance.
Hopscotch to Oblivion by Andy Wright, Sheffield, UK

The Termite 
by Ogden Nash

Some primal termite knocked on wood
   And tasted it, and found it good,
And that is why your Cousin May
   Fell through the parlor floor today.


The Ceiling
by Theodore Roethke

Suppose the Ceiling went Outside
And then caught Col and Up and Died?
The only Thing we'd have for Proof
That he was Gone, would be the Roof;
I think it would be Most Revealing
To find out how the Ceiling's Feeling.

And one for Halloween:

Knitted Things
by Karla Kuskin

There was a witch who knitted things:
Elephants and playground swings.
She knitted rain,
She knitted night,
But nothing really came out right.
The elephants had just one tusk
And night looked more
Like dawn or dusk.
The rain was snow
And when she tried
To knit an egg
It came out fried.
She knitted birds
With buttonholes
And twenty rubber butter rolls.
She knitted blue angora trees.
She purl stitched countless purple fleas.
She knitted a palace in need of a darn.
She knitted a battle and ran out of yarn.
She drew out a strand
Of her gleaming, green hair
And knitted a lawn
Till she just wasn't there.




Thursday, October 23, 2014

Live the Questions





from Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke

You are so young, so before all beginning, and I want to beg you, as much as I can, dear sir, to be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.

Live the questions.
Live into the answers.


I Am Much Too Alone in This World, Yet Not Alone
by  Rainer Maria Rilke, 1875 - 1926
I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone
enough
to truly consecrate the hour.
I am much too small in this world, yet not small
enough
to be to you just object and thing,
dark and smart.
I want my free will and want it accompanying
the path which leads to action;
and want during times that beg questions,
where something is up,
to be among those in the know,
or else be alone.

I want to mirror your image to its fullest perfection,
never be blind or too old
to uphold your weighty wavering reflection.
I want to unfold.

Read the rest here.

And stop by Merely Day By Day for the Poetry Friday Roundup.

Friday, October 17, 2014

Georgia Project Wet

Michelle hosts the Poetry Friday Roundup today at My Little Ditty.

Flat Rock Park, Columbus, Georgia.  (Photo by Dr. Dorothy Jelagat Cheruiyot)


I walked into the library this week to pick up some easy readers for a project. At the back of the room, a display wall had been set up. I wandered over and discovered some wonderful artwork and poetry by Georgia students.

Each year the Georgia EPA sponsors a program for teachers and students in the state, Georgia River of Words: Connecting Kids to their Watershed. The website says, "The River of Words Project is designed to help youth explore the natural and cultural history of the place they live. After studying a watershed in their own environment, students express, through poetry and art what they discover." See the exhibit here.

One very creative student started her poem called "Fish" with these words: I dreamed/ I was a fern/

The national grand prize winner was a third grade student from Atlanta who wrote a beautiful haiku called "Dawn."

One of my favorites was "Tumble Down," in which the writer managed to describe her love/hate relationship to poetry with the image of falling water. She begins, " I'm the one who is writing this poem..."  In the stanza on stanzas, she says, "...they rush down like a waterfall,/ Like water droplets,/ My words fall like rain,/ Couplets gathering in a puddle below"

Such a great project. I hope you'll take a moment at the website. Especially if you're a teacher and haven't seen the project before.

Friday, October 10, 2014

It Tastes Like Dirt

Yes, that's what I said. Since I'm teaching five yoga classes each week, I'm expending lots of energy. My personal trainer daughter says I have to increase my calorie intake. I've been experimenting with different protein powder supplements. I like the healthier ones without additives, but most of them are sweetened with stevia. While it gives you sweetness without adding sugar, it leaves me with an aftertaste I don't care for. I'm not a big fan of sweet drinks anyway. I drink my coffee black and avoid soda altogether. This week my husband came home with a new one. Ugh! It tastes like dirt. Not sweet, which is nice, but it really does taste like dirt. So on with the search. I'm open to suggestions.

In the meantime, I came upon Alice Schertle's "Invitation from a Mole" as the perfect poem to go with my dirtful week.

Be sure to stop by the Poetry Friday Roundup at Miss Rumphius Effect where you can dig up lots more poetry today.

File:Close-up of mole.jpg

Invitation from a Mole

come on down

live among worms awhile
taste dirt
           on the tip of your tongue

smell
           the sweet damp feet of mushrooms
listen to roots
                            reaching
                                                  deeper
press your cheek against
the cold face of a stone

wear the earth like a glove
close     your     eyes
wrap yourself in darkness

            see

what you're missing


               ---from A Lucky Thing by Alice Schertle, c 1999, Harcourt Brace & Co.