Happy Haiga Day!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.

Poetry Friday--A Few Figs from Thistles

Last week I posted a little political poem about a fig. In the comments section Mary Lee mentioned Edna St. Vincent Millay's figs--her P. F. post was about Millay's collection titled A Few Figs from Thistles. The most famous poem from that collection is undoubtedly this one, which made for some lively discussion amongst Mary Lee's commentors:

First Fig

My candle burns at both ends;
   It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends--
   It gives a lovely light!

Being as I'm currently obsessed with political shananigans, I think this ditty is a perfect description of the freshman senator who has recently made a name for himself!

After reading Mary Lee's post, I sought out Millay's collection and I was struck by this poem:

Portrait by a Neighbor

Before she has her floor swept
   Or her dishes done,
Any day you'll find her
   A-sunning in the sun!

It's long after midnight
   Her key's in the lock,
And you never see her chimney smoke
   Till past ten o'clock!

She digs in her garden
   With a shovel and a spoon,
She weeds her lazy lettuce
   By the light of the moon,

She walks up the walk
   Like a woman in a dream,
She forgets she borrowed butter
   And pays you back cream!

Her lawn looks like a meadow,
   And if she mows the place
She leaves the clover standing
   And the Queen Anne's lace!

From A Few Figs from Thistles

Look closely at the title, it's Portrait BY a Neighbor, not OF a Neighbor. So, are we to assume that Millay is the neighbor being written about? If so, then I think Millay is rather proud of being painted as a free spirit. I don't know about you, but this poem fills me with happiness!

Irene is hosting this week's P. F. Round-Up at Live Your Poem. Without a doubt she will have plenty there to add to my happy mood.

Photo by BlueRidgeKitties.

Haiku Sticky #224

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.

I entered this haiku in October's Caribbean Kigo Kukai, and then, in my rush to leave the house on Saturday to drive down to Boston for the Boston Book Festival, I completely forgot to send in my votes. I apologize to Gillena and all the CKK participants.

Imagine "instructions" as part of the second line. The restrictions of the sticky note program, with its inability to allow one to change the font size, often makes it difficult to format the poems. Generally, I don't use the poems that won't fit, but I make exceptions on occasion.

I originally wrote it with "daylight savings" as the final line, but, the assigned kigo was "early darkness." I think it works either way, but the switchover to daylight savings time adds an extra urgency to the search for the instructions!

Happy Haiga Day!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.

Poetry Friday--Our Times

These are truly strange times. Some even say we are in the end times. Last weekend, I heard a story on NPR in which A. J. Jacobs, a editor at Esquire magazine, related stories of physical confrontations by members of Congress. Listen to the story here:



Jacobs told of Henry Clay's being referred to as "like a rotten mackerel in the moonlight." That phrase jumped out at me. Then, mere minutes later, I read about a congresswoman's claim that we are in the end times. [Read the article here.] That idea, and the mackerel quote, tangled themselves in my head. A quick search online revealed that the quote is even more revealing when read in its more complete form, "like a rotten mackerel in the moonlight, he both shines and stinks." Ouch!

Photo by Axel Rouvin.
After many fits and starts, I ended up with this:

In the Moonlight

...the leaf is on the fig tree and we are to understand the signs of the times, which is your ministry, we are to understand where we are in God’s end times history.

--Michele Bachmann


It is claimed a leaf
sprouts on the fig,
but,

in the darkness
in the moonlight

fruit concealed by
the slick new shoot
remains unseen.

There it may grow
there it may wither

we do not know
until the stench of
rot is indisputable.

So please, trust your
primal animal sense;

periodically stick
your nose in the air
to sniff.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.

Do any of you write poems in response to political goings-on? I sometimes question why I do, when, in all likelihood, a year from now, this poem will make no sense! Or perhaps it will make perfect sense? I wonder if, when Kipling wrote "Dane-Geld: A.D. 980-1016" 100 years ago, he ever would have imagined its relevancy in 2013?

I'm sure there are plenty of sensible and relevant poems being rounded-up today at Merely Day By Day--be sure to stop by!

Haiku Sticky #223

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.

I'll bet you didn't realize that this haiku is about zoochory! I would say that 99% of my mail is junk. A waste of time (mine), money (the vendor's), and the life of a tree. I now only check my mailbox two or three times a week. In walking to the mailbox in the fall, I always end up covered in hooked seeds. I'm an animal agent of seed dispersal, which is called zoochory.

Happy Haiga Day!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.