UPDATE: one more poem added, from Marcia Molay.
The North Shore Poets’ Forum gathered at the Beverly Public Library on Saturday, Feb. 19, for its usual February meeting, but with a different plan than usual: we would spend part of the time remembering our dear friend Amy Dengler, who died the week before.
Some of our members had gone to the Celebration of her Life the prior Thursday morning in Gloucester, and were able to share the beauty of the service, which was planned entirely by Amy.
“I felt as though Amy was my hostess,” said Beverlee Barnes about the care and attention to detail evident throughout, which was typical of the graciousness intrinsic to Amy.
Claire Keyes had felt a tiny bit reconciled to Amy’s death when various people chosen by Amy read some of her poems. Keyes then led Forum members in reading from Amy’s book “Between Leap and Landing,” so that we all would know Amy is always with us — in our memories and in her poems. (See some excerpts from her book on this website under “Introducing Amy Dengler.”)
Amy had also put together another volume of poetry, which we are hoping to receive soon and share with some of you, if her family permits. In the meantime, here is one of Amy’s poems that was read at the celebration of Amy’s life, which Roberta Hung has forwarded.
Valentine
It was only a button, a device
to fasten one side to another yet
it kept reminding me that my winter coat
was missing its middle fastener. The coat,
still draped over the kitchen chair,
was one button short, brown thread trailing
from the empty space like a memo:
get to this soon. Instead
I wore the blue jacket with the zipper.
On Wednesday while I was out,
he found the sewing kit, brown thread, a needle,
and reattached the button, size of a quarter
and made of bone or horn or something durable
that didn’t mind fingers, didn’t mind the in and out
of its intention, didn’t mind the simple work
of holding things together.
February 2008
Amy Dengler
……………………..
Here is a poem by Roberta that she shared with Amy and the other Forum members at our annual summer outing in Gloucester:
Shelf Life
My bulging bookshelf threatens to mutiny
against the crowded conditions.
Some amigos will have to go
where expatriots get sent.
I hope they’ll be valued in their new homes.
…
A fellow poet recently humbled to Amy Dengler.
He’d paid a pittance at a resale
for her book, Between Leap and Landing.
His apologia suggested that he rescued it
from landing in the fire.
…
Personally, I think it leapt to a new shelf
to set more hearts aflame.
Good books are like the phoenix.
Amy, mon amie, my copy is a signed keepsake
of a lovely mentor and friend.
4/17/10
Roberta Hung
And, we also have the poem to which Roberta is referring, by Lee Eric Freedman:
(© 11/16/2009: Lee Eric Freedman, Tin Box Poets – Swampscott, MA)
Amy wrote poetry that made you smile.
There was a message but it never
hammered you; instead it made you aware
of daily tasks as you use simple kitchen tools…
a mixer, a chair, a spoon to lick.
…
She teased that she wrote about
the usual poet’s themes: crows, the moon,
utensils, family. Despite her persistent,
recurrent illness, she wrote poetry that
delighted and read them with a soft,
soothing voice that made us smile back at her.
…
Her generosity was legend. Encouraging
less experienced writers was part of her character.
No worry about who would shine,
she helped, based on her long experience with words
and her intuition about what the new poet
could absorb.
…
Thanks for the post and a memorable meeting Cathy.
Dear Amy—-I refuse to believe that you are gone, that I won’t be able to read and comment on your poems and listen as you comment on mine. I refuse to accept that your generous spirit and kind eyes will no longer make my life just a little more joyous. Once you gave me a cutting from your hydrangea, telling me that it needed no special care and would grow anywhere. My gardener’s skills didn’t help me that time and I deeply regret not having that small part of your life continuing in my garden. Last year, I purchased a hydrangea, planted it, and it prospers. As it blooms this spring, I think of you. Dear friend, I miss you.