American Life in Poetry: Column 166

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006

Texas poet R. S. Gwynn is a master of the light touch.  
Here he picks up on Gerard Manley Hopkins' sonnet  "Pied Beauty,"
which many of you will remember from school, and offers us a picnic
instead of a sermon.  I hope you enjoy the feast!

Fried Beauty

Glory be to God for breaded things--
Catfish, steak finger, pork chop, chicken thigh,
 Sliced green tomatoes, pots full to the brim
With french fries, fritters, life-float onion rings,
Hushpuppies, okra golden to the eye,
 That in all oils, corn or canola, swim

Toward mastication's maw (O molared mouth!);
Whatever browns, is dumped to drain and dry
 On paper towels' sleek translucent scrim,
These greasy, battered bounties of the South:
                      Eat them.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by  The Poetry Foundation
(www.poetryfoundation.org),  publisher of Poetry magazine.
It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of 
Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright (c) 2005 by R. S. Gwynn,  
whose most recent book of poetry is "No Word of Farewell: 
Poems 1970-2000," Story Line Press, 2001. Poem reprinted from
"Light: A Quarterly of Light Verse," No. 50, Autumn,  2005, by permission
of R. S. Gwynn.  Introduction copyright  (c) 2008 by The Poetry Foundation.
The introduction's  author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet
Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004- 2006.
We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts. 
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American Life in Poetry: Column 165

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006

In "The Moose," a poem much too long to print here, the late Elizabeth
Bishop was able to show a community being created from a group of
strangers on a bus who come in contact with a moose on the highway.
They watch it together and become one. Here Robert Bly of Minnesota
assembles a similar community, around an eclipse. Notice how the experience
happens to "we," the group, not just to "me," the poet.

Seeing the Eclipse in Maine

It started about noon. On top of Mount Batte,
We were all exclaiming. Someone had a cardboard
And a pin, and we all cried out when the sun
Appeared in tiny form on the notebook cover.

It was hard to believe. The high school teacher
We'd met called it a pinhole camera,
People in the Renaissance loved to do that.
And when the moon had passed partly through

We saw on a rock underneath a fir tree,
Dozens of crescents—made the same way—
Thousands! Even our straw hats produced
A few as we moved them over the bare granite.

We shared chocolate, and one man from Maine
Told a joke. Suns were everywhere—at our feet.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also
supported by the Department of English at the University of
Nebraska-Lincoln. Copyright © 1997 by Robert Bly, whose most recent
book of poetry is "My Sentence Was a Thousand Years of Joy," Harper
Perennial, 2006. Poem reprinted from "Music, Pictures, and Stories,"
Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 2002, by permission of the writer. Introduction
copyright © 2006 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction's author,
Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry
to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited
manuscripts.

American Life in Poetry: Column 164
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006

How often have you wondered what might be going on inside a child's head?
They can be so much more free and playful with their imaginations than adults, and 
are so good at keeping those flights of fancy secret and mysterious, that even
if we were told what they were thinking we might not be able to make much sense of it.
Here  Ellen Bass, of Santa Cruz, California, tells us of one such experience.  

Dead Butterfly  

For months my daughter carried 
a dead monarch in a quart mason jar. 
To and from school in her backpack,
to her only friend's house. At the dinner table
it sat like a guest alongside the pot roast. 
She took it to bed, propped by her pillow. 

Was it the year her brother was born? 
Was this her own too-fragile baby 
that had lived--so briefly--in its glassed world? 
Or the year she refused to go to her father's house? 
Was this the holding-her-breath girl she became there?

This plump child in her rolled-down socks 
I sometimes wanted to haul back inside me
and carry safe again. What was her fierce
commitment? I never understood.
We just lived with the dead winged thing 
as part of her, as part of us,
weightless in its heavy jar.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation
(www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported
by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln.
Poem copyright (c) 2007 by Ellen Bass and reprinted from "The Human Line,"
2007, by permission of Copper Canyon Press, www.coppercanyonpress.org.
Introduction copyright (c) 2008 by The Poetry Foundation.  The introduction's
author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry
to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006.  We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts. 
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American Life in Poetry: Column 163
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006

I have always enjoyed poems that celebrate the small pleasures of
life. Here Max Mendelsohn, age 12, of Weston, Massachusetts,
tells us of the joy he finds in playing with marbles.

Ode to Marbles

I love the sound of marbles
scattered on the worn wooden floor,
like children running away in a game of hide-and-seek.
I love the sight of white marbles,
blue marbles,
green marbles, black,
new marbles, old marbles,
iridescent marbles,
with glass-ribboned swirls,
dancing round and round.
I love the feel of marbles,
cool, smooth,
rolling freely in my palm,
like smooth-sided stars
that light up the worn world.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry
Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of
Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department
of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem
copyright (c) 2004 by The Children's Art Foundation.
Reprinted from "Stone Soup", May/June, 2004, by permission
of the publisher, www.stonesoup.com. Introduction copyright
(c) 2008 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction's
author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate
Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006.
We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.