Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast

A couple of weeks ago Nancy at Journey Woman shared the amazing poem “Love Song: I and Thou” for PF, and I fell deeply in love.  Somehow I’ve gone my whole life without ever hearing of Alan Dugan, and I set about to rectify that.  I checked out Poems Seven today, and after an hour of flipping around in it at random, I can’t understand how I ever lived without him.  What amazes me is how he’s able to create these incredibly potent images with such a direct and understated style.  No florid vocabulary, no theatrics, just pure hard poetry, as bracing and beautiful as standing on a rocky New England beach in the middle of winter.  Thank you, Nancy.

Here’s a bit of another new favorite poem, “Against a Sickness: To the Female Double Principle God.”

She said: “I’m god and all

of this and that world and love

garbage and slaughter all the time

and spring once a year. Once a year

I like to love. You can adjust

to the discipline or not,

and your sacrificial act

called ‘Fruitfulness in Decay’

would be pleasing to me

as long as you did it with joy.

Otherwise, the prayer ‘Decay,

Ripe in the Fruitfulness’

will do if you have to despair.”

Love it? Me too. Read the rest here.

{Note: Today’s Poetry Friday round-up is here at Big A, little a} . . .

Hi there. Happy Poetry Friday to all. We don’t have a proper entry for today, but we would like to humbly submit for today’s poetry entry the below interview with Haven Kimmel, over which we are still squealing in excitement, since she’s one of our favorite writers. Haven began her writing career as a poet and wrote poetry under the name Haven Koontz (visit this link and scroll down for a list of some of her published poetry. Also, here you will see an excerpt of one of her poems, “Heartland”). She’s made it clear in several interviews that poetry was her first love.

And head here at A Chair, A Fireplace & A Tea Cozy for this week’s Poetry Friday round-up.

Secondly, check out this beautiful cover art here. We give you a loud and resounding and heartfelt WOO HOO! when we say that not only did Random House debut this cover art yesterday for Jarrett J. Krocoszka’s October release of Punk Farm on Tour, but he also has agreed to let us grill him in an upcoming interview. He’s not only so impossibly nice that he’s agreed to answer our weird questions, but he also sent us that cover art (lest Random House think I just stole it from their site). We are big fans of Punk Farm as well as Jarrett’s other books, so we’re all agog over this news (yes, I said “agog.” I’m trying to use one word a day I’ve never used before).

Next, we would be terribly remiss if we did not steer you in the direction of readergirlz, a new “online book community celebrating gutsy girls in life & lit,” in the words of the four YA authors who gave birth to this iniative: Dia Calhoun, Janet Lee Carey, Lorie Ann Grover and Justina Chen Headley. Here’s what they have to say about readergirlz: Read the rest of this entry �

As we end Valentine’s week, in which we take the time to make a bit more demonstrative our love for our dearest ones (particularly those with whom we eat “dinner together at a table with silver candlesticks” — see poem below), I’m going to share something that a friend shared with me this week (madly mad props and thanks to Shannon). The poem, you see, is a lovely valentine to life itself. This is a new poem to me and a new poet, too — Jane Kenyon, who as you will read here, published four books of poetry in her lifetime and was married to Donald Hall, our current poet laureate. Kenyon died of leukemia in 1995, making this poem even more compelling.

I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.

Read the rest of the poem here at Poetry 180: A Poem a Day for American High Schools, which is a wonderful thing, no matter what you think of Billy Collins and his poem, “Introduction to Poetry” . . . oh my do I remember the long, heated discussion (always a good thing, though) at the Child_Lit listserv over that poem and what it has to say about the analysis of poetry.

Their image/logo here links straight to the Poetry 180 site itself. And here’s a list of all the poems and poets, if you’re inclined to go find yourself a new poet today, too.

Happy Poetry Friday to all.

Happy Valentine’s Day from Team 7ITBB! We’re celebrating early with one of the most excellent, unsentimental love poems ever, “Falling In Love is Like Owning a Dog” by Taylor Mali. Posing as muse is Gus, who belongs to Eisha’s sister. Who’s a good boy? Hmm? Is it Gus? YesHeIs! Ooh, SuchAGoodBoy!!! You’reSuchASweetie! OOF! Okay, Gus, that’s enough. No! NO!! Down, boy! Okay… okay. Good boy.

Anyway, the poem:

First of all, it’s a big responsibility,
especially in a city like New York.
So think long and hard before deciding on love.
On the other hand, love gives you a sense of security:
when you’re walking down the street late at night
and you have a leash on love
ain’t no one going to mess with you.
Because crooks and muggers think love is unpredictable.
Who knows what love could do in its own defense?

On cold winter nights, love is warm.
It lies between you and lives and breathes
and makes funny noises.
Love wakes you up all hours of the night with its needs.
It needs to be fed so it will grow and stay healthy.

Love doesn’t like being left alone for long.
But come home and love is always happy to see you.
It may break a few things accidentally in its passion for life,
but you can never be mad at love for long.

Is love good all the time? No! No!
Love can be bad. Bad, love, bad! Very bad love.

Read the rest here. You can also find an edited version in Caroline Kennedy’s anthology A Family of Poems: My Favorite Poetry for Children (Hyperon, 2005), illustrated by Jon J. Muth. Happy Valentine’s Day!

{And visit here at The Blue Rose Girls’ site for today’s Poetry Friday round-up} . . .

{Note: Head here at Big A Little a for today’s Poetry Friday round-up} . . .

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about Gail Gauthier’s recent post, “Why Blog Reviews Are Important,” in which she makes the case for reviewing older titles after discovering that her most recently published novel was reviewed — eight months after publication — on two different blogs. Blogs, she writes, can extend the season of a book. In today’s world, the season of a book (or movie or any number of other new events, for that matter) is pathetically short. I won’t go on and on about this, except to say that when Eisha and I created this blog, I never set out to review just new titles. But that’s exactly what I’ve done. Gail’s post is a nice reminder that reviewing older titles “remind{s} readers of books they’d been meaning to read but had forgotten about” (such as this review from this week at the excelsior file, one of my favorite blogs — and if it hadn’t been for Just One More Book’s review of the ’06 re-print of Margaret Shannon’s The Red Wolf, originally published in 2002, who knows how long it would have taken me to find this intriguing picture book).

On that note, here’s something else that’s been on my mind, and here’s where the poetry comes in: Mama Goose, which serves as a child’s introduction to poetry. I’ve been reading Chris Roberts’ entertaining Heavy Words Lightly Thrown: The Reason Behind the Rhyme (first published in 2004 by Granta Books). Read the rest of this entry �

{Note: Head here at Chicken Spaghetti for this week’s Poetry Friday round-up} . . .

Winter has finally come to Massachusetts.  Sort of.  We’re finished with that weird, wrong, lingering balminess that made Christmas seem more surreal than festive.  It’s really really really cold out there now.  There’s what David Foster Wallace called a “true, religious-type wind” blowing around.  But.  January is almost over, and we haven’t even had a single inch of snow.  Not one.  A couple of flurries – that’s it.

I moved up here for snow.  What the hell?  Is it really just El Nino, or is this global warming?  Have I seen the last of the serious, two-foot New England blizzards?  Do I have to move to Saskatchewan? What is the point of single-digit temperatures with you-don’t-even-wanna-know wind chill factors if there’s NO SNOW?

Anyway, here’s a bit from a poem that pretty much sums up the weirdness: “A Winter Without Snow” by J.D. McClatchy.

Read the rest of this entry �

{One more update: Round-up is here. Thanks, Elaine!} . . .

{Update: I don’t know who’s doing the ‘ol round-up today, but it doesn’t matter. I do, however, want to direct readers to Chicken Spaghetti’s Poetry Friday entry, which is here. She links to “No Nightmares, Please: Why is so much children’s poetry filled with sadism and doom?,” written by Jeff Gordinier at the Poetry Foundation’s site. It’s ever-so funny. Enjoy! And thanks for the link, Susan} . . .

I’ll be honest. Poetry Friday just snuck up on me and slapped me upside the head. The fact that it’s Friday just surprised me. What can I say? I’m still in holiday mode, and every day feels like Saturday.

So even though I admittedly scrounged for this, I still bring it to you with admiration. I read this recently in the introduction to either Liz Rosenberg’s edited anthology of Earth-Shattering Poems (1998) or 2000’s Light-Gathering Poems (both published by Henry Holt). I really should be able to tell you which one, but I didn’t make note. Nevertheless, it stuck with me:

If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is there any other way?

And those, my friends, are the words of Emily Dickinson. Happy Poetry Friday. As for me, I’m off to get coffee and try to settle into the day (which I now accept is Friday).

{Note: Head here to read this week’s Poetry Friday round-up at A Chair, A Fireplace & a Tea Cozy . . . in which Liz awards me a prize for the “longest introduction that has nothing to do with the actual book” and a “bonus link to a video of Choppin Broccoli”!} . . .

So, yes, it’s the last Poetry Friday of ’06. You’d think I’d have some poignant farewell or new beginnings-themed poem for you (anyone else remember the Dana Carvey-era Saturday Night Live and his amusing parody of the acutely untalented but pompous rock star? His name was Derek, and he had a passionate rendition of a really bad song, made up on the spot, called “Choppin’ Broccoli”? In one episode I remember, there’s a medley featuring the “Choppin’ Broccoli” wonder in which he bangs on the piano and randomly sings “new beginnings . . . new beginnings . . .” Alas, I cannot find it online anywhere. And, wow, that is my Best Digression Yet — not to mention I’ve really dated myself now).

Anyway, I feel like for our Poetry Fridays — when it’s my turn, that is — I only review rhyming picture books anymore, but allow me to do it one more time. I’ve been reading, reading, and reading some more for the committee work I’m doing for the Cybils Award (Fiction Picture Books committee), and there are several nominated titles that I’ve yet to discuss but want to tell you about. So, this week for Poetry Friday, I’ll tell you about one Cybil-nominated title that happens to be a rhyming text. It’s a ‘lil charmer, too . . .

The Prince’s Bedtime written by Joanne Oppenheim and illustrated by Miriam Latimer; published by Barefoot Books, September 2006 — It’s bedtime in a faraway kingdom, and one stubborn, little prince refuses to go to sleep. Looking for some sort of cure, the King goes so far as to send forth a royal request: “If anyone knows how to make the prince rest, please come at once to the royal address.” Having already rejected his mother’s silk quilt, the cook’s cookies, and the maid’s hot milk, he stays on his stubborn course and rejects the physician’s medicine; Read the rest of this entry �

*{Note: Head on over to A Chair, A Fireplace & A Tea Cozy for this week’s Poetry Friday round-up} . . .

Hello, strangers. Remember me? The OTHER Seven Impossible blogger? It’s been kind of a crazy couple of months for me, and I know I’ve been kinda scarce around here. But it’s my turn to do Poetry Friday and I told Julie earlier this week that, sure, no problem, I had it covered. Well… I’m supposed to embark on a two-day, 1000+ mile road trip to see the family (and Julie!) in about 12 hours, and I haven’t packed. Or wrapped my presents. Or even read the books I said I was going to review for PF today. That’s pretty much how I roll.

So… here’s what I’m doing instead. I’m sharing a poem – a sweet, short little poem, that seems like a nice way to commemorate a journey. It’s “Poem” by Thomas McGrath. It’s so short I’m just going to give you the whole thing, and hope that the copyright police have a little holiday spirit about it:

How could I have come so far?
(And always on such dark trails?)
I must have traveled by the light
Shining from the faces of all those I have loved.

For all the other holiday travelers, I wish you a safe and happy journey. To Julie – thank you so much for keeping this blog going with almost no help from me. And to Blaine, thanks for your expert tech support and general coolness. To everyone who reads, comments, and/or links to us on your own blogs – thank you, it is a pleasure and a privilege to be a part of such a dedicated and talented community. And Happy Holidays to all.

Jules here. I hope Eisha doesn’t mind me tacking something on here. Since she’ll be travelling (and coming to see me — woo hoo!) and we’ll all be busy with the holidays (hey, my oldest is almost three years old and she really “gets” the holidays now, so this year it’s more exciting than ever), we probably won’t be too busy on this here blawg. So, I just wanted to say a quick Happy Holidays to all, too. I’ll be celebrating and reading Tomie DePaola’s Christmas Remembered, which I’ve already started and am enjoying (and it’s not poetry, but I’m just tagging along for the ride here on Eisha’s Poetry Friday post). We will soon post a co-review we did of M.T. Anderson’s Octavian, and it’s long enough to tide you over during the holidays (when we co-review, we tend to get a bit chatty and informal and, well, just downright garrulous); I know you’re waiting with bated breath. Hee hee. Happy Holidays to all, especially the kidlitosphere community. — Jules

* {Read here at Big A little a for today’s Poetry Friday round-up} . . .

Let’s take a look for this week’s Poetry Friday at two amusing ’06 picture book titles, one of them nominated for a Cybil in the Fiction Picture Books category and both of them written in rhyming text — closed couplets, to be exact, for you Poetry Sticklers (and I say that fondly).

Ninety-Three in My Family by Erica S. Perl and illustrated by Mike Lester; published by Abrams Books for Young Readers — Know someone with a lot of pets? Bet they don’t have as many as the little tyke in this Cybil-nominated book; he lives with ninety-two humans and animals — and all in one home — as he tells his stunned teacher one morning during class. Oh my but this is a funny book (there’s one pygmy hippo named Bernice in the home if that gives you an idea of the book’s freakish funniness). Read the rest of this entry �