#245: To be a gentle admirer of words ❤️
Dear reader,
I had a recent epiphany that this career/life path I’m on is abundant with words. These gardens of words, as lovely as they are, can get overwhelming sometimes, especially when I’m juggling projects and articles.
But showing up here every Monday, gently foraging for poems and words someone lovingly stitched together, is a sweet, sweet homecoming. Keeping this newsletter short as my tiny kitten is piercing her sharp little claws into my skin.
Poetry Corner
Poetry can be elusive yet distinctly simple sometimes, no?
Catch A Little Rhyme Poem by Eve Merriam
Once upon a time
I caught a little rhyme
I set it on the floor
but it ran right out the door
I chased it on my bicycle
but it melted to an icicle
I scooped it up in my hat
but it turned into a cat
I caught it by the tail
but it stretched into a whale
I followed it in a boat
but it changed into a goat
When I fed it tin and paper
it became a tall skyscraper
Then it grew into a kite
and flew far out of sight...
Yevtushenko, On A Rainy Day by Benilda S. Santos (Excerpt)
How I wish he would run right
into my room so he could see
my pen struggling across this piece
of white paper, writing as though
on soggy stationery
or on shreds of sandpaper.
What would he say
if he could see me thus?
Would he recite,
“I walk across life
Shirt collar open” or,
“I am cruel to the petals”?
Read the full poem here.
Notes On The Art Of Poetry by Dylan Thomas
I could never have dreamt that there were such goings-on
in the world between the covers of books,
such sandstorms and ice blasts of words,,,
such staggering peace, such enormous laughter,
such and so many blinding bright lights,, ,
splashing all over the pages
in a million bits and pieces
all of which were words, words, words,
and each of which were alive forever
in its own delight and glory and oddity and light.
Arrangement by Missy-Marie Montgomery
Put a few words together prettily and it’s possible
to fall in love.
Move your hand slightly and I’m yours. Or gone.
And think of what can be done with flowers
or paint. I take back
what I said in my message yesterday,
the one saying I had printed and folded each message from you
into a boat, and now had a fleet of origami ships on my desk,
all of them sinking, none of them, I said,
seaworthy. That was mean.
If I think of them differently—not as vessels,
not as anything that might save a life—
but as smooth stones or carved chess pieces,
something I might hold to comfort me,
something I might put in my mouth,
then perhaps I can continue to pass the time this way.
The way I want you
just a detail, just a thing that can be carried.
The Poem Cat by Erica Jong
Sometimes the poem
doesn't want to come;
it hides from the poet
like a playful cat
who has run
under the house
& lurks among slugs,
roots, spiders' eyes,
ledge so long out of the sun
that it is dank
with the breath of the Troll King.
Sometimes the poem
darts away
like a coy lover
who is afraid of being possessed,
of feeling too much,
of losing his essential
loneliness-which he calls
freedom.
Sometimes the poem
can't requite
the poet's passion.
The poem is a dance
between poet & poem,
but sometimes the poem
just won't dance
and lurks on the sidelines
tapping its feet-
iambs, trochees-
out of step with the music
of your mariachi band.
If the poem won't come,
I say: sneak up on it.
Pretend you don't care.
Sit in your chair
reading Shakespeare, Neruda,
immortal Emily
and let yourself flow
into their music.
Go to the kitchen
and start peeling onions
for homemade sugo.
Before you know it,
the poem will be crying
as your ripe tomatoes
bubble away
with inspiration.
When the whole house is filled
with the tender tomato aroma,
start kneading the pasta.
As you rock
over the damp sensuous dough,
making it bend to your will,
as you make love to this manna
of flour and water,
the poem will get hungry
and come
just like a cat
coming home
when you least
expect her.
Links of the Week
Un.Divided Identities is an immersive and interactive online experience by ReReeti Foundation that aims to capture the mass migration and personal stories of The 1947 Partition. Rooted in curatorial experimentation, the virtual exhibition allows anyone engaging with it to become a decision-maker and understand what it takes to leave your home in times of fear, chaos and uncertainty. A space for people to step into the lives of Partition survivors as it stood in and around 1947.
“While all my pursuits seemed like disparate chapters to me, in hindsight, a clear through line emerged—one that tied them all together. Through music, design, and photography, I was on a constant quest to discover and amplify stories that resonated with authenticity. I was drawn to the intricate details, the raw emotions, and the connections that breathe life into our experiences.”
-Finding My Purpose by Wesley Verhoeve“Take the body outside, and use it not as a tool but as a companion, a friend, to make thought more alive, more dynamic.”
-Simon Parcot in Why All Great Thoughts Are Conceived by WalkingMiyazaki’s Magical Food: An Ode to Anime’s Best Cooking Scenes
Learning to Love You More is a web site and series of non-web presentations comprised of work made by the general public in response to assignments given by artists Miranda July and Harrell Fletcher
Everything is alive, an unscripted interview show in which all the subjects are inanimate objects
Thank you for letting me into your heart and inbox, dear reader.
Until next week,
Rohini
Lovely note, thanks for including me!
Love all the poems! Thank you for this lovely curation.