
© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved
THE LITTLE SHIPS.
"The small steamer...struck a mine
yesterday and sank. The crew perished."
Daily Paper.
Who to the deep in ships go down
Great marvels do behold,
But comes the day when some must drown
In the gray sea and cold.
For galleons lost great bells do toll,
But now must we implore
God's ear for sunken Little Ships
Who are not heard of more.
When ships of war put out to sea
They go with guns and mail,
That so the chance may equal be
Should foemen them assail;
But Little Ships men's errands run
And are not clad for strife;
God's mercy then on Little Ships
Who cannot fight for life.
To warm and cure, to clothe and feed
They stoutly put to sea,
And since that men of them had need
Made light of jeopardy;
Each in her hour her fate did meet
Nor flinched nor made outcry;
God's love be with these Little Ships
Who could not choose but die.
To friar and nun, and every one
Who lives to save and tend,
Sisters were these whose work is done
And cometh thus to end;
Full well they know what risk they ran
But still were strong to give;
God's grace for all the Little Ships
Who died that men might live.
Punch.
We think nowhere else in the world can the residents of a city publish their poems in a book the size of St. Paul. I encourage all St. Paulites to submit short poems and contribute compelling and beautiful thoughts to the everyday experience of walking our sidewalks.Good luck to all you St. Paulite poets!
cat's body alertHead over to A Wrung Sponge for the Poetry Friday Round-Up. Andi has some nice haiku on there that would look very nice on a sidewalk!
to the sounds through
the open window
...after the rain
breathing it all in
© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved
"One can foresee the day when phonographs and cinema will be the only recording technique, and poets will revel in a liberty hitherto unknown" (Apollinaire, 1917). In a speech he gave in Paris in 1917, Guillaume Apollinaire predicted that the writing of poetry would shift from the tangible printed page to a new audiovisual medium. In this poetry workshop, using the poet Apollinaire as a springboard, we will observe seven types of digital poetry: kinetic, video, interactive, programmed, audio, code, and hypertext. We will explore how traditional poetic techniques such as metaphor, symbolism, tone, meter, and juxtaposition can be used in this engaging new poetic form. You will plan an adaptation of one of your poems to digital media and discuss the challenges that emerge from your plan.If it seems all a bit overwhelming, believe me, it was! But, that doesn't mean I didn't enjoy it. I did, and I learned quite a bit, although most of it is beyond my abilities! I thought I was stretching my limits by dabbling in illustrated poems. Ha! That's child's play compared to some of what is being done. It was good to see that there is more than one way to approach poetry.
We Fly from Adlai Moss on Vimeo.
Keyed up as we are by the incessant din of causes, we have lost composure and the ability to think our own thoughts. With everyone consigned to one side or the other, we are confused and wooed by hate on one side and fear on the other. It becomes harder to know what is just or honest. Perhaps we need what normal children seem not to have lost--a faintly amused view of what is.It's as if Behn could see what America would be like in 2011--"confused and wooed by hate on one side and fear on the other." That's it in a nutshell. Just look at what's happening in Wisconsin.
I shall remember chuffs the trainStop by The Small Nouns and catch up on the Poetry Friday goings-on in the blogosphere.
Almost too far away to be heard,
Chuffing into darkness descending,
Puffing into distance unending,
Into silence barely stirred.
The train bell rings across the night,
Deep under stillness rings the bell,
A lonely, silvery, faraway ringing
Deep in a starry wilderness, bringing
Sounds of a dripping winter well.
No voice was ever more lost or lonely
Than the engine's echoing call
Chuffing on and on and still
Puffing farther away until
There is no sound, no sound at all.