Category Archives: general

Disscussing line break up in the mezz-

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anine.

Joan George reads her poem “November at the John George Park” during the North Shore Poets’ Forum November meeting.

See what I did there? It was line break in a title. Cool right? Well, hardly. But we did enjoy ourselves during the November 17, NSPF meeting. It was held all the way at the top of the Beverly Public Library in the Mezzanine due to the library’s annual book sale. While the book sale (and all the different church holiday fairs going on) made it difficult to find parking, the sale did provide some of us bibliophiles with a little side shopping excursion. I, however, was too nervous about my presentation to the group to do any shopping. I was so nervous I got off the elevator on the wrong floor and had to ask the reference desk librarian how to find the NSPF-ers!

Luckily, the rest of you were not as discombobulated as I was and more than a dozen poets filled the conference room. I certainly wasn’t prepared for such a terrific turnout! I only made 10 copies of my presentation and the poems which went with them. So, as promised here are the links to the materials. You can download the presentation and the supporting materials. I have also included some links to the poems we reviewed today during the session.

For those of you who were unable to make it, you can also review the materials posted here. In my opinion, the important thing to remember is that rhythm, meter, rhyme, dropped lines, enjambment, caesuras, etc. represent tools poets can use to help elevate, to help enhance, the meaning or theme that the poet wants to convey. Every poem has its inspirational point, the genesis of what drew the poet to the blank page. Conveying that inspiration point, often requires quiet contemplation and employment of the tools of our artistic craft. Determining where to break the line is just one of those tools.

I also planned a couple of activities for us to do during the session today but we ran out of time so if you are feeling energized by the meeting and want play around here are those exercises.

  1. Take out the poem you brought to share with us today. On a blank piece of paper write out your poem in paragraph form. Now read it slowly to yourself. Does the change in structure highlight any internal rhythm? Look at the sentence structure and its syntax. Do all your sentences follow the same style and structure or did you alternate the sentence lengths or tones? Now read the poem one more time quietly to yourself and mark with a pencil the places where you naturally pause to breath or natural syntactical segments. Re-write the poem with these new line breaks and awareness. How can you employ line breaks to enhance the point of your poem?
  2. Take a random book down off your shelf. (We were in the library so I was going to have us go and borrow one from their shelves.) It can be a cookbook or a do-it-yourself manual or a collection of essays, anything as long as it isn’t a book of poems! Pull out a paragraph at random and lineate it. How does your lineation affect your understanding? Could you even make a poem from a science book?
  3. After preparing all night for the presentation (okay not “all” night but I was up until 1 a.m.) I took out my Martha Stuart “Living” magazine and flipped through the pages. I came across a Geico advertisement and actually thought about how they had applied line breaks to their message! Pull out your magazines and see if you can find any instances where the point or product of the ad is enhanced by how the words are placed on the page. Ask yourself how it was done and why it worked (or didn’t) on you.

Well that’s all I’ve got folks. I’m sure you’ve all got a ton of information and thoughts about you use line breaks in your own poems. I hope you’ll share them in the comments section below.

See you in December at the joint NSPF/Massachusetts State Poetry Society meeting.

Poetry plans made for upcoming year

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A small group met at the Beverly Public Library on Saturday, Sept. 15, and we’ve come up with a schedule and some of the programs for the year, which follow. However, we didn’t want to exclude anyone who wasn’t at the meeting from a chance to volunteer for a program. Therefore, we have a coupd of unplanned meetings for you!

There was some talk about presenting a program for the Massachusetts Poetry Festival, which is scheduled this year for Ma 3-5. It won’t conflict, as it did last year, with our Poetry Month Reading in April, which is good news. And, therefore, Mary Miceli suggested that we might want to find a few members of the Massachusetts State Poetry Society, of which our group is a chapter, to do a program for the festival. She suggested the topic be on Aging, although she had more of a transitions theme in mind, and aging in all its age groups.

As just one chapter, we didn’t feel we could make any definitive decisions and voted to bring the topic up at the Mass. State meeting coming up this Saturday, Oct. 6.

So, back to the NSPF schedule. We always meet at the Beverly Public Library, at 11 a.m. to about 1 p.m. Everyone is asked to bring a food item or beverage to share. The date is usually the third Saturday, but it can change. See below:

Oct 20: Melissa Varnavas will present a program on line breaks.
Nov. 17: Volunteer needed.

Dec. 1: Holiday Party, with the whole Mass State Poetry Society. NSPF sponsors the Most Apt Poem contest, which goes to the person who has a poem that best describes the present he/she brought for the Yankee Swap. Poems/presents are unsigned. The winner must fess up! And, it’s all in good fun!

Jan. 19: Need a volunteer.

Feb. 15: Mary Micelli will do a program, TBA.

March 16: Diane Giardi will do a program, TBA.

April 20: Celebration of National Poetry Month, with readings by the winners of the Naomi Cherkofsky Contest, followed by Open Mic.

May 18: Volunteer needed.

June 15: Annual Outing.

Happy Mother’s Day

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I’ve just finished reading one of the nicest Mother’s Day columns ever, and I found it on the second page of the Sports section of The Boston Globe.

Odd, one might think — that it would be on the Sports pages at all, and that I might be searching there. But, the columnist happens to be a Sports writer, and he happened to have a very wonderful mother. And I, tottering towards my dotage, have decided to take up an earlier infatuation with the Red Sox.

The team is so sad-awful this year. They bring back heart-breaking memories. In 1986, the year Bill Buckner let the ball roll between his legs instead of wrapping up the game with the final out and winning the World Series, my husband broke a chair, scaring our three little children. He was so ashamed and upset, he never watched the Red Sox play again. I snuck a peek at the final game of that series, which the Buckner error left tied, 3 games each. The Mets won. Then I stopped watching, too.

But, the children are grown. I am alone with all kinds of memories, including those of my now deceased husband. So, one needs something.

I was scurrying on to more coverage of a win (oh joy!) when I saw “Mom and her Stockings.” The writer is Kevin Paul Dupont, his tagline, “On Second Thought.” He writes beautifully about his own mother’s late infatuation with all things Red Sox – including one handsome, strong, Jose Canseco.

“Moms. Sometimes they surprise you,” Dupont writes. His mother continues: “What a good-looking man. Wow, look at those muscles.”

“Moms. Sometimes they embarrass you,” the writer admits.

He also writes of her lively mind, her interest in birds, knitting, gardening, and in poetry. She could recite many poems from memory. And, this was a gift she kept to the end.

When she was dying from cancer and not as sharp as she had been, she could still recite the following poem, “Ducks,” by Frank W. Harvey, the columnist tells us. I was so smitten by the column and this woman that I looked up the poem, which I share with you now. (The poet was English, so the spellings of some words are different.)

Ducks

by Frank W. Harvey

I
From troubles of the world I turn to ducks,
Beautiful comical things
Sleeping or curled
Their heads beneath white wings
By water cool,
Or finding curious things
To eat in various mucks
Beneath the pool,
Tails uppermost, or waddling
Sailor-like on the shores
Of ponds, or paddling
– Left!  Right! – with fanlike feet
Which are for steady oars
When they (white galleys) float
Each bird a boat
Rippling at will the sweet
Wide waterway…
When night is fallen you creep
Upstairs, but drakes and dillies
Nest with pale water-stars.
Moonbeams and shadow bars,
And water-lilies:
Fearful too much to sleep
Since they’ve no locks
To click against the teeth
Of weasel and fox.
And warm beneath
Are eggs of cloudy green
Whence hungry rats and lean
Would stealthily suck
New life, but for the mien
The hold ferocious mien
Of the mother-duck.

II

Yes, ducks are valiant things
On nests of twigs and straws,
And ducks are soothy things
And lovely on the lake
When that the sunlight draws
Thereon their pictures dim
In colours cool.
And when beneath the pool
They dabble, and when they swim
And make their rippling rings,
0 ducks are beautiful things!
But ducks are comical things:-
As comical as you.
Quack!
They waddle round, they do.
They eat all sorts of things,
And then they quack.
By barn and stable and stack
They wander at their will,
But if you go too near
They look at you through black
Small topaz-tinted eyes
And wish you ill.
Triangular and clear
They leave their curious track
In mud at the water’s edge,
And there amid the sedge
And slime they gobble and peer
Saying ‘Quack! quack!’

III

When God had finished the stars and whirl of coloured suns
He turned His mind from big things to fashion little ones;
Beautiful tiny things (like daisies) He made, and then
He made the comical ones in case the minds of men
Should stiffen and become
Dull, humourless and glum,
And so forgetful of their Maker be
As to take even themselves – quite seriously.
Caterpillars and cats are lively and excellent puns:
All God’s jokes are good – even the practical ones!
And as for the duck, I think God must have smiled a bit
Seeing those bright eyes blink on the day He fashioned it.
And he’s probably laughing still at the sound that came out of its bill!

Poetry galore this weekend

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I do hope you will join us on Saturday, April 21, 11 a.m. to 1 p.m. at the Beverly Public Library for the annual National Poetry Day reading.

I can’t remember how many years the NSPF has been holding this event, during which we invite the winners of the Naomi Cherkofsky contest to read, followed by an Open Mic. In any case, it is always a great time! We serve a few goodies to complement the very good poetry and friends who attend. So, I hope you’ll make sure to stop by.

But, it is a big weekend for poetry! The Massachusetts Poetry Festival begins Friday and goes through Sunday afternoon, in Salem, at a number of venues. Check out the link on this page to see what you might like to attend — so long as you are sure to come to Beverly, too!

Next year we might coordinate with the Poetry Festival folk and become part of that event (what do our members think?), or we might make sure to hold our reading on another weekend so that we can help animate National Poetry Month with lots of verse all month long.

If you can’t wait to the weekend this year, however, the Tin Box Poets are having their celebration on Thursday night, April 19, 6:30 to 8 p.m., at the Swampscott Public Library, 61 Burrill St.  Doors open at 6 p.m. for open mic sign ups. You can even do music, if you prefer, but bring your own instrument.

In the meantime, you can see all kinds of poetry online. For instance, there’s the Borzoi Reader Poem-A-Day, distributed by Knopf Poetry right to your e-mail during this very special month (http://us.mg6.mail.yahoo.com/neo/launch?reason=ignore&rs=1.

And, I will share a little poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay for your reading pleasure.

 

Spring

To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death
But what does that signify?
Not only under the ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers. 

 

And, the winners are…..

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We are excited to announce the winners of the Naomi Cherkofsky Memorial Contest and invite them and you to our annual reading in celebration of National Poetry Month, on Saturday, April 21, 11 a.m., at the Beverly Public Library.

They are:

1st. “Poem for Hilda,” by Catherine Stavrakas

2nd. “A Night-Time Long Ago,” by Yamilee Craven

3rd. “Let My Soul Blossom Like the Night Blooming Jasmine,” by Richard Samuel Davis

Honorable Mentions, in no particular order, are:

“Jack’s Pumpkin,” as well as “Revelations,” both by Diane Giardi

“Walking in the Arboretum,” as well as “The Commuter,” by Mickey Coburn

“Azure,” by Lee Lewis

“On a Budget,” by Johanna Maria Donovan

“Aftertaste,” by Megan Ouellet

“Going,” as well as “Storm,” by Catherine Stavrakas

We will first hear our winning poets read and then open it up to others in attendance. This annual event is always a lot of fun. We have light refreshments, and we encourage socializing as well as good poetry!

Please join us at the library, and tell your friends and family, 11 a.m. to about 1 p.m. Let’s celebrate National Poetry Month!

Beware the Ides of March

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Today’s the day we should look for betrayal, as in poor old Julius Caesar’s story, since this is the anniversary of the day Brutus took a dagger from his cloak and joined his fellow Senators to stab his emperor – his friend – in the back.

But, we don’t have to as troubled by ancient fates as all that! It’s a not too shabby March day here in Massachusetts, with promises of better ones in the days ahead. So, we should celebrate the anticipation of Spring rather than cower with the fear of Spring’s betrayal….something that happens all too often in these parts. A late snow storm is not uncommon. Rain, chill, and gray days often accompany the forsythia and daffodils. Forget that! This year will be perfect!

So, to get you in the mood, I offer a lovely poem by Peter Davison (1928-2004), from his 2000 collection, “Breathing Room,” which won the Massachusetts Book Award. But first, I will clarify something in my last post. Our Poetry Reading celebrating the Naomi Cherkofsky contest winners and National Poetry Month will be Saturday, April 21, 11 a.m. to about 1 p.m., at the Beverly Public Library. (The April 14 date was just a mistake, and the library is already booked for some other event that day, so there’s no choice.)

On with the poem, The Level Path, by Peter Davison

The Level Path

Descend here along a shower of
             shallow steps past the potting shed with
                           its half-rotted ironbound door

to reach the level path. It winds
             northward, high hat, girdling
                           the waist of a limestone cliff

beyond earshot of the clamorous village below. The
             squeezed access bears us vaguely along
                           shifting digressions of the compass, past

eye-level seductions of violet, periwinkle, primrose, and petals
             like lisping yellow butterflies. Naked limbs
                           of beech, haggard liftings of pine,

a hairy upthrust of cedar beside a
             curving stone bench, all hint at eruptions
                           into Eros. Yet another seat displays

a cushion of undisturbed luxuriant moss around its clefts and
             edges. Thick harsh leaves
                           of holly, ivy, even of palmetto

thrust up, pathside, between tender new petals,
             while other friendly shrubs reach down
                           from overhead to fondle our faces.

There is no escape from the dreadful beauty of
             this narrow path. It leads nowhere
                           except to itself and
                           the black water below.

It must be Spring!

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The weather is beyond belief, and Spring is in the air. We can now look forward to the pot of gold that the Leprachauns are hiding, as well as spring flowers and showers and blooming good days ahead.

Thanks to everyone who entered the Naomi Cherkofsky contest. As it turned out, and despite my worries, we have a good supply of poems. We will notify the winners by e-mail or phone or snail mail. Everyone else should look here for a listing.

Also, we hope everyone will come to the reading at the Beverly Public Library, 11 a.m., in celebration of National Poetry Month. It’s always a lovely time. I have it down in two different places — once as April 14 and another as April 21. Shall we take votes? (Crumb. I’ll check with the library. I’m thinking it should be the 14th because the Massachusetts Poetry Festival has many good offerings on the 21st.)

In the meantime, don’t forget our March meeting, on Saturday, March 17. Member Chris Coleman has promised us a program on Irish poetry.

Until then, bask in the sunshine!

Snow Day, from inside the library

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My husband Chris and I love Saturday mornings. To be honest, we love sleeping. So, when my kitten Hugo jumped on my chest at 10:30 a.m., causing me to jolt awake worried I’d missed the scheduled NSPF meeting.

“You’d better get going,” my hubby urged.

“Ugh,” I moaned. But got up, brushed my teeth, combed my hair, grabbed my laptop and bag and headed out the door. I decided to walk since it was snowing and (if you’ve had a chance to look at my blog,) I’m a walker.

I was late and walking would make me later and stopping to grab a coffee would make me later still but I justified my lateness to the snow. I figured you would all forgive me.

I got to the library at about 11:15 a.m., not bad timing, I thought. I looked around but only one person sat in our typical meeting space. I backed up, thinking maybe the meeting was being held in that conference room down the hall. But I knew my mistake. That’s what happens when you get up late and rush around and don’t double check things. I knew the meeting had been canceled.

But there was this gentleman there. So I introduced myself and he, himself. His name is/was Tom and I guess you’ve all met him before as he indicated that he came to a meeting in November. Well, we talked for a while and shared how we each got interested in writing and poetry and I again praised my mentor Cathy for bringing me back into the poetry fold so many years ago.

Then Tom shared of the poems he’d brought which were very good.

We also tried to work on a poetry exercise so I thought I’d share that exercise with you all, too.

Okay, so here goes… You have to play along in order for this work, so no reading through it and skipping ahead. You have spend the time and work through it.

Exercise: Mapping to a sense of place

1. Pick a time in your life. It could be now. It could be during your first job. It could be during your college, high school, or early childhood years. Which ever you pick let your mind go to the memories you’ve stored, the experiences you’ve had about that time.

2. Pick a place you lived during the time you’ve chosen. Visualize this place in your mind’s eye. Now take three minutes (it helps if you have a kitchen timer handy) and describe the physical building where you lived in as much detail as possible. What color was it? How many rooms did it have? Was there a fence? A garden? Did it have a basement or an attic?

3. Take a clean sheet of paper and draw the place you lived in the center of that piece of paper to best of your ability. You have 30 seconds.

4. Time’s up. Now draw the building next door.

5. Now continue this exercise for three minutes until you have a relatively good map of the street/surrounding area of the place where you lived.

6. Now for five minutes go back to your drawing and choose a place on your map that you have not thought about in a long time, imagine that place and the people who lived there in your writing.

Well, this isn’t a formula for a poem per se but a way to get the writing muscles exercised. I did this in a workshop with poet Patricia Smith author of “Blood Dazzler” during the 2011 Massachusetts Poetry Festival. I really enjoyed the workshop and I’m sure I’m not capturing it’s essence well enough here. But what the heck, something to keep us writing on a dreary (now not so snowy) day.