“the exact day I became a poet was april 1, 1965,
the day I bought my first typewriter.”
in honor of poetry month.
mine was the day I learned to hold a pencil
and found a scrap of paper to scribble on.
image credit: daskeyboard
a poem begins with a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong,
a homesickness, a lovesickness.
happy birthday, robert frost – born march 1874
image credit: maurice shapiro – woodland sketch
“i simply do not distinguish between work and play.”
r.i.p. mary oliver, one of my favorite poets – i agree.
image credit: alice boughton,
Teachers and kindergarten students
Warm-toned Gelatin Silver Print unmounted 1910 USA
Everything on the earth bristled,
the bramble pricked
and the green thread nibbled away,
the petal fell,
falling until the only flower was the falling itself.
Water is another matter,
has no direction but its own bright grace,
runs through all imaginable colors,
takes limpid lessons from stone,
and in those functionings plays out
the unrealized ambitions of the foam.
of course it is a worm family birthday party.
“the poet makes silk dresses out of worms.”
and yet again, a movie i’ve never heard of, begged me to take it off the shelves of my local library, and into my living room.
‘the happy poet’ is an indie-comedy, a classic tale of the underdog, fighting the system, and trying to make the world a better place. (and hot-dog free, in this case.) written and directed by paul gordon, who also stars as the lead, ‘the happy poet’ was shot in austin, texas, on a small budget, and released on the film festival circuit. slow-moving, quiet, wryly funny, simply shot, with single piano notes as its only soundtrack, i was quickly drawn into this very human story.
when we meet the poet, he is struggling – in life, in trying to find his happiness, and with no idea about where to go for the answers. he is as dry, deadpan, and honest a character as you will ever meet, and one who has an understated passion for the things he believes in. it’s his sincerity and heart, that draws an eccentric bunch of people to him, each with their own heart of gold, who stay close, keep him motivated, look out for him, and prove their loyalty in interesting ways. I’m happy this poet quietly called out to me from the shelves.
When what we are is what we want to be, that’s happiness. – Malcolm Forbes
image credit: Cinema Libre