Donne's Annunciation

ANNUNCIATION


That All, which always is All everywhere,
Which cannot sin, and yet all sins must bear,
Which cannot die, yet cannot choose but die,
Loe, faithful Virgin, yields himself to lie
In prison, in thy womb; and though he there
Can take no sin, nor thou give, yet he will wear
Taken from thence, flesh,
which death's force may try.
Ere by the spheres time was created, thou
Wast in his mind, who is thy Son, and Brother,
Whom thou conceiv'st, conceiv'd;
yea thou art now
Thy maker's maker, and thy Father's mother,
Thou hast light in dark; and shutst in little room,
Immensity, cloistered in thy dear womb.


- John Donne (1572-1631)

April is National Poetry Month

Margaret Bolit

An invitation to get involved:

Margaret Bolit

April is National Poetry Month, and somehow, terrifyingly, April is also little more than a week away. I really like poetry, love that it has a month devoted to celebrating it, and last year I really enjoyed collecting favorite poems from people I love to post here. This year I want to do something to mark the month as well, but I’m going to try something a little different. Something which may not work at all. Though actually, its success is far more up to you than me.

I don’t think I’ve ever read as much poetry as I have over the past year. Part of this is probably that I’ve been working in a book store where I shelve the poetry section, so the sheer number of books of poetry that I touch on a daily basis has risen exponentially compared with every other period of my life. But part of this is also that I’ve felt really mentally raw and sensitive for large portions of the past twelve months, and this has made my mind open and attuned to the nuances of poetry in a way I’ve never experienced with any kind of longevity before. Also, I’ve had trouble reading anything long. And a lot of poems are short.

I love poetry. Something else I love is getting mail. And for some reason it feels like a really good idea to combine these two things I really like in celebration of National Poetry Month 2011, so what I’m going to do is this: I will mail you poems. That is, I will mail you poems if you’d like me too. I will mail out one poem a week, to the address of your choice, postage on me, for the entire month of April.

I realize this entails giving me your address…but I kind of assume that everyone who reads this blog I actually know, and likely know well enough to know where they live. And if we’ve never met, you should still feel welcome to take me up on this offer. I’d love to send you poetry too. And if you’re uncomfortable giving out your address, or you don’t want actual, real, made-out-of-paper mail, I’m willing to send the poems that I choose to an email address as well. And–within reason–if there’s someone you know who would really like to receive a poem in the mail every week of April, but who (for some strange reason) doesn’t read my blog, you can either let them know about this post and have them contact me themselves, or you can give me an address and I’ll add them to the list.

So, that’s what I’d like to do…whether any of this actually happens is kind of up to you. I really will do pretty much all the work here: I’ll choose the poems, put them on paper, put the paper into envelopes, stamp those envelopes and mail them. I will do this at least four times throughout April. Maybe more if I get really into it (and I’m obviously already pretty into it). All I need from you is a response to this post, either as a comment or as an email to mpbostrom@gmail.com, telling me that you’re interested, and indicating how you’d like to receive your poem (real mail, email) and to what address you’d like me to send them. And I need this response as soon as possible, and definitely before April 1. So! Let’s begin. Happy Almost National Poetry Month!

The First Day of Spring

When Spring Dons Her Flowers


Soon winter will be over,
And flowers will bloom in bright array.
Sweet lilacs, roses anointed with dew, and lilies in their finery
Each dressed in the colors of God’s design.

I will sit in the fields and praise the LORD,
And by the brooks I will not be silent.

Thank you LORD for this season,
Which surpasses Winter’s snow,
And Autumn’s bounty of leaves.
Spring’s flowers and fragrances
Add to Summer’s joys.

 
-- Chandler Hamby

CENTER for CREATIVITY

Check out Hannah Millikin's wonderful new blog Center for Creativity.

This is a place where students can share what they create or design. Hannah is seeking poems, art work, photos of Lego creations, robots, or crafts executed by young people. She hopes that her new blog will be a place where others can show off their God-given talents.

Here are Hannah's poems at Students Publish Here:

Song of the Birds
A Star in the Lion Sky

John Nichols - The Silent Cold

The silent cold seeps through the seams

Of my taught, pale jacket,
The covering which holds my flame;
Yet the chill refuses to absolve its hold.
Its life-drinking kiss steals the breath;
Its wretched tendrils embrace the beating heart:
It draws us toward anger, hate, death, dying.
It tells us to cry, curse, rage, fear, cower, cringe.
And nothing can be done.

Who would stand against this cold? This chill?
This cold seeps through the senses.
It is black, unseen, yet all pervading.
Who could stand against this absolute?
This vast, vacant emptiness where nothing lives?
Can any fight it? Can any know when it strikes?
It tells us to shriek, to shirk, to sink, to sleep;
It wants us to shiver, to chatter, to huddle, to scream,
To sleep. To sleep. To sleep.

But we dare not dream.

Should we flee? Could we flee? Would we flee?
Will we consummate this unholy matrimony?
Will we consent to slip away into dreamless unrest
And submit to the frigid, killing bite of renunciation?
The hoarfrost wraps its withered hands about the heart,
Stifles its thumping rush, its vibrant vitality,
Slowly kills it, sucking, draining, choking, drowning,
Until a shriveled, barren husk hangs silent.
Not I, but we. Never I only we.

My shivering heart, now wrinkled, yet pale,
Is bruised, yet not broken, but lifeless.
The pallor of sable death has infected my
Jacket, my worn, warm covering. That chill
Has seeped into its fibers, diluting the warmth,
The heat, the fire, the life, the burning passion,
The all-consuming wrath, the rage, the revolution.
My insides rot and burn away, stirring new life
Within, yet without, the same.

But I am, at least, free.

Black, sable cold seeps through my jacket seams,
Burns away its passion, leaving it numb, senseless.
It calls us to cry, scream, despair, fragment.
It drives us to oneness, to tolerance, to crusade
Lady Hoarfrost bares her teeth in wanton pleasure,
Her wolf’s snarl malicious, seductive, chilling.
She beckons us to love, to fear, to protect, to kill,
To embrace the withered fingers of the cold,
To sleep. To sleep. TO SLEEP.
O, the horror of dreamless sleep!

Death.
Chill.
Frost.
Sleep.
We.


-- John Nichols

A Poem About Winning

The following poem was written by my MMI creative writing student, Curtis Surovy (grade 11). In this poem Curtis expresses different emotional dimensions to winning and how the most precious victories often are not won in public.


Trophy

Anger red pulses in his neck
as he channels into a single
glorious moment of recovery
all his losses.
Hoisting triumph,
he indulges success before
his enemy's gaping mind.
From anger to victory,
from glory to locker room
where coach rubs liniment
into his aching calves.
He hangs his head
not wanting the others to see
the tear.


Related reading: Curtis Surovy's letter to Wendell Berry; Finest Companions (poem about dog sledding)

Key Considerations in Fiction Writing

Point of view:  From whose perspective is the story being told? The main charcter?  The unseen all-knowing narrator (the author)? Will there be more than one point of view and if so, how willyou handle these?

Characterization:  Min characters are always better drawn when they have a foil – Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, etc.

Plotting: Know where you are going and how the story will end. What is the conflict and how will the character handle it? How will things get worse for him? How will you "thicken" the plot?

Dialog:  Use the correct format. Each conversational thread should be set in a new paragraph. Is the conversation natural?  Don't put sophisticated language in the mouths of simple country folk.

Symbol and Metaphor: Used to imply a deeper meaning to the story. Use lightly but effectively. A pair of gold earrings could symbolism the feminine principle, for example.

Word Economy: The best fiction writers edit their work after they have finished the story. This is when you shorten sentences and cut useless words. Think of how Ernest Hemingway used few words to maximum effect.

The Title: Let your title be the “working title” only. A better title will suggest itself by the time you get to the end of the story.