Bookish Mewsings from the Poetry Corner: A Poem a Day

I am linking up to the Sunday Post hosted by Kim of Caffeinated Book Reviewer, where participants recap our week, talk about what we are reading, share any new books that have come our way, and whatever else we want to talk about. I am also linking The Sunday Salon hosted by Deb Nance of Readerbuzz where participants discuss what they are reading and other bookish topics.   

Option one of the Poetry Reading Challenge hosted by Serena of Savvy Verse & Wit is to subscribe to a Poem-a-Day service through the Academy of American Poets, read a poem a day over the course of a week, select a favorite and share some of my thoughts and feelings about it.

While I am not officially taking on option one, I thought it would be fun to check out the service and see what I thought. Keeping up with a poem a day evidently is harder than it sounds. At least for me. I wanted to be in a position where I could give each one my full attention, which was not always at the moment I was checking through my e-mails. The poems generally are not that long and can easily be fit into most anyone’s schedule. I may not have read a poem every day, but I did read them intermittently throughout the month, often several back to back. Some did not speak to me much at all sadly, while there were many I enjoyed, with a few that really resonated with me.

One of my favorite poems I read this month is called "I do not remember my own name" by Valerie Wetlaufer (author of Call Me by My Other Name). The first excerpt I am sharing took me back to when I was pregnant with my daughter and the changes my body would undergo.

In the wind, my name sounds like a vowel.
            Everyone keeps asking what the baby will call me.

I find myself worrying about my nipples,
            how their textures will change.

I love the imagery in this second excerpt from Wetlaufer's poem--how often as of late do I stumble over words or forget things? It could be stress, lack of sleep, or part of the aging process. And then . . . When I was younger, how I had big dreams, and now I am older, more aware of my limitations and flaws.

I’m losing language in my sleep.
            I open my mouth, and words are plucked

from my tongue. Before I was broken,
            I planned to inherit the garden.

I have no idea if any of my own interpretations of the poem is what the author had in mind, but that is part of the beauty of poetry. It means something different to each reader. 

Another of the poems that I especially liked was "Remember the Boys" by Rachel McKibbens (author of blud), which was inspired by Christine Blasey Ford's testimony against Brett Kavanaugh. I think most women can relate to stories of boys being boys, where their behavior has been excused because they are, well, boys.

chucking rocks at the wasps’ nest,
their gathered hum then sudden sting
at the nape of my neck. Oh, how I paid—
still pay—for the recklessness
of boys. [...]

McKibbens then wonders what it would have been like if she had been born a boy, how much different her life might have been.

And then there is "Bird" by Niki Herd (author of The Language of Shedding Skin: Poems), which I found myself reading again and again. It opens with people stopping what they were doing while at a shopping center to see the many birds, the grackles, that seemed to be everywhere. From there, Herd takes us back to her childhood: her adoptive father standing, arms raised, two stories up, about to jump. He was a Vietnam War veteran, a hero, who also suffered from a mental illness and addiction. I always feel a bit of an affinity with other children of Vietnam War veterans, however different our lives and experiences may be. My own dad was a Vietnam War veteran, and his drug of choice was alcohol.

Let me tell you how a child learns the alphabet by counting,
how she learns only 2 letters separate the words hero and heroin,
how he stood high on the ledge of a porch the child never much
liked because there was a crack in its wooden center as if the world
was waiting to open its jaws to swallow her body whole.

I wish I could share the poem in its entirety so you can experience it more fully. I appreciated the feelings Herd's poem draws out of the reader, the story she has to tell, as well as the more technical aspects of the poem, including how she opens with the birds and ends her poem with them too, coming full circle.

[...] Eventually, lights
went dark in the shops and each watcher retraced their steps back         
     home
to find their families, to rejoice over food, to laugh and settle the night;
and the birds, steadfast they stood, not quite ready for flight—

A service like the Academy of American Poets' Poem-a-Day service a great way for poetry readers to get to know the names of contemporary poets and sample their work. I hope to check out all three of the above poets' work more closely, especially after visiting their websites and learning more about their work. These are three amazing women.

Each weekend, the poems that appear in my mailbox are by older long ago poets. I will close my sharing today's featured poem, "Souvenir" by Edna St. Vincent Millay, written in 1923:

Just a rainy day or two In a windy tower, That was all I had of you— Saving half an hour. Marred by greeting passing groups In a cinder walk, Near some naked blackberry hoops Dim with purple chalk. I remember three or four Things you said in spite, And an ugly coat you wore, Plaided black and white. Just a rainy day or two And a bitter word. Why do I remember you As a singing bird?

Have you read any poetry lately that you would recommend? Do any of these poems sound like ones you would further like to explore?

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