Cat graph

I have two cats, and as anyone who is owned by a cat knows, this chart is right on the money!


Courtesy of GraphJam

Poetry Friday--9/11

I was speaking with someone the other day who mentioned that her mother's birthday is September 11, and ever since 2001, the family has celebrated the birthday on another day.

9/11 was a powerful event in every American's life, and it still has its consequences.

Perhaps, the only good that came out of the 9/11 event was that it inspired many people to pick up a pen and to write. In many cases, what came out was poetry.

In 2001 I had been writing haiku for years, but, I never wrote Poetry (with a capital "P" as opposed to verse with a small "v"). For me, too, 9/11 was indelibly printed in my memory, and I was compelled to write about one of the haunting visuals from Manhattan.

ACROSS TO BROOKLYN

Snow came early that year
even though the calendar
had yet to mark autumn.
On a Tuesday morning
the sun rose into
a vivid crayola sky,
the clouds puffy as if
drawn by a child.
No one could have known
how quickly summer would pass.

A thunderclap,
then another,
signaled the start
of a new winter.
A terrific wind
released the flurry.
The sky filled with
snowflakes floating,
twirling, almost dancing
across to Brooklyn.

There was no ice
in these flakes,
yet the chill was tangible.
No crystalline patterns—
just the names of strangers,
facts and figures,
corporate logos,
and private matters,
on 8 1/2 by 11 inch
pieces of paper.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved

After writing my 9/11 poem, I continued to write, a little poem here, another there. I hope that others, too, continued to write.

About.com maintains a page, "Poems After the Attack," which they republish every September. If you can bear the memory, read a few of the poems.

Check out the Poetry Friday Round-Up at Wild Rose Reader.

Haiku Sticky #8

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved

Happy Labor Day!

I thought I'd share some photos of Labor Day, and other labor parades from the past. The images are courtesy of the Library of Congress.

Several are of the spectators. I love to see how people dressed!

One hundred years ago, in New York. Child labor was still rampant. Children probably were treated as slaves as the sign indicates.




1913 at an unspecified location. If I had to guess, I would say New York City. Someone captioned the photo as "suffragettes," but the banner, as far as I can make out says, "English Speaking Union Whitegoods Workers Local (the rest I can't make out)"




Washington, D.C. in 1929.




This one is from Colorado in 1930. Love the kids' body language!




1940 Pennsylvania.




Detroit in 1942, one year into the Second World War. Look around, there are signs of war every where.

Oh My!

I'm not going to say much, just going to direct you to two articles that have stuck a stake in my heart as both a librarian and a writer.

From the Boston Globe, "Welcome to the library. Say goodbye to the books."

Instead of a library, the academy is spending nearly $500,000 to create a "learning center," though that is only one of the names in contention for the new space. In place of the stacks, they are spending $42,000 on three large flat-screen TVs that will project data from the Internet and $20,000 on special laptop-friendly study carrels. Where the reference desk was, they are building a $50,000 coffee shop that will include a $12,000 cappuccino machine.

And this from CNN, "The Future of Libraries, With or Without Books."

In the United States, libraries are largely funded by local governments, many of which have been hit hard by the recession.

That means some libraries may not get to take part in technological advances. It also could mean some of the nation's 16,000 public libraries could be shut down or privatized. Schultz, of the Berkeley Law School, said it would be easy for public officials to point to the growing amount of free information online as further reason to cut public funding for libraries.

One more thing--last year we had an ice storm that left us without electricity for several days. I was able to pull a book off the shelf and read it. What happens when there's no electricity AND no books?

Poetry Friday--September, 1918

Photo by sarae
What is it about September that brings on melancholy thoughts?

This poem by Amy Lowell, "September, 1918," struck me as being as valid today as it was 90 years ago. Lately, I've been having thoughts about the two wars we are mired in. I, too, am trying to "balance myself/Upon a broken world" and it makes me oh, so, sad, since I don't see the hopeful "Some day there will be no war" ever coming to pass.

September, 1918

This afternoon was the colour of water falling through sunlight;
The trees glittered with the tumbling of leaves;
The sidewalks shone like alleys of dropped maple leaves,
And the houses ran along them laughing out of square, open windows.
Under a tree in the park,
Two little boys, lying flat on their faces,
Were carefully gathering red berries
To put in a pasteboard box.
Some day there will be no war,
Then I shall take out this afternoon
And turn it in my fingers,
And remark the sweet taste of it upon my palate,
And note the crisp variety of its flights of leaves.
To-day I can only gather it
And put it into my lunch-box,
For I have time for nothing
But the endeavour to balance myself
Upon a broken world.

This week's Poetry Friday Round-Up is being hosted by Kelly at Crossover.

Haiku Sticky #7

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved