Friday, September 28, 2018

洞月亮 Cave Moon Press September 2018

FEATURED POET:  BETTY SCOTT'S poems are influenced by California, Oregon and Washington landscapes. She earned degrees from U.C.L.A., Central Washington University and Western Washington University and taught in community colleges before retiring into her daily writing life. She enjoys editing her daughter’s novels as well as poetry and essays by colleagues in Bellingham, WA. She is currently writing a third collection of poems and a book of essays.

BENEATH FEBRUARY'S SLIVERED MOON

I wake at dawn to sun and ice
roadway diamonds.

In my yard two deer, displaced-thin
nibble on clover.

I too am rail thin, a short path away
from a milestone birthday, and in

this quiet moment, this devoted stretch
of first-waking thoughts

electricity and love spark.

I listen kindly to circuits.


IN GOD HE TRUSTS; IN SLEEP HE TRYSTS WITH DEATH

A dark crow squawks outside his bay window
As I enter Dad’s house this lonely day.
He lies so still, his face a worn pillow.

In his silent home, belongings echo.
“I’m here, Dad,” I call from the entry way.
A dark crow squawks outside his bay window.

In his room, silence moans without sorrow.
I reach for his shoulder, call out his name.
He sleeps so still, his face a worn pillow.

I touch his lips and nose to see breath flow.
Must you be so blissful, I dare not say.
A dark crow squawks outside his bay window.

“I’m a great sleeper now,” he wakes and boasts
“Practicing for the big sleep … on its way.”
He lies so still, his face a worn pillow.

Yet I’ve seen inside the beak of a crow
Blood red and cawing love’s longings and pain.
A dark crow squawks outside his bay window.

He lies so still, his face a worn pillow.

WRITE YOUR POEM!
,,,his face a worn pillow.

The master stroke in Betty's poem, here is rhyme and repetition.
Since Whitman and Cummings, we have been averse to these elements in poetry.

So to evoke a picture of her father with this simple phrase, Betty has beautifully used rhyme for the modern ear with a metaphor.  The metaphor leaves us at the bedside of a loved one with love, grief and power.  Brilliant.

Try to re-write Betty's poem within the context of your own life.  Share your pain through rhyme and repetition.
Write the poem on a fast food wrapper from a restaurant you visited on the way to the hospital.  Keep it in your pocket for later.  Be present with the people you love.

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