e. e. cummings o’clock (kisskiss)

March 19, 2021March 19, 2021 ~ jama ~ 42 Comments

“A clock is a little machine that shuts us out from the wonder of time.” ~ Susan Glaspell

“The sunlight claps the earth, and the moonbeams kiss the sea: what are all these kissings worth, if thou kiss not me?” ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley

Spring is practically here and love is in the air. Why not count the minutes with kisses? 🙂

9.

there are so many tictoc
clocks everywhere telling people
what toctic time it is for
tictic instance five toc minutes toc
past six tic

Spring is not regulated and does
not get out of order nor do
its hands a little jerking move
over numbers slowly

                                      we do not
wind it up it has no weights
springs wheels inside of
its slender self no indeed dear
nothing of the kind.

(So,when kiss Spring comes
we'll kiss each kiss other on kiss the kiss
lips because tic clocks toc don't make
a toctic difference
to kisskiss you and to
kiss me)

~ from erotic poems by E.E. Cummings (W.W. Norton & Co., 2010)

How’s that for sweet seduction? 🙂

Indeed, Cummings makes a great case for unbridled passion — no regulated constraints, no measured monotony. Just bring on the sensuous delights, surprising, even sudden. For something this delicious, toss your clocks out the window. After all, love has a way of making time stand still.

As you probably know, Cummings wrote many poems celebrating spring and love, often defining one in terms of the other. I think of “O sweet spontaneous earth . . . thou answerst them only with spring,” “we’re alive,dear:it’s(kiss me now)spring!,” “springtime is lovetime and viva sweet love,” or stanzas like this one:

spring!may--
everywhere's here
(with a low high low
and the bird on the bough)
how?why
--we never we know
(so kiss me) shy sweet eagerly
my
most dear

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[review + chat + giveaway] Aram Kim on Sunday Funday in Koreatown

March 16, 2021October 23, 2022 ~ jama ~ 20 Comments

We’re so happy to welcome NYC author, illustrator and book designer Aram Kim back to Alphabet Soup today!

You may remember when she visited to celebrate the publication of her second picture book, No Kimchi for Me! (Holiday House, 2017), where little Yoomi learns to like “stinky, spicy kimchi.” Last spring, Aram published a companion picture book called, Let’s Go to Taekwondo! (Holiday House, 2020), where Yoomi and her grandma encourage and inspire each other when challenged to learn new skills.

Today’s release of Sunday Funday in Koreatown (Holiday House, 2021) is especially exciting, because it means we now officially have the Yoomi, Friends, and Family picture book series!

In this heartwarming story, Yoomi’s Sunday just isn’t turning out to be the “Funday” she had planned. That morning, her favorite TV show was cancelled and because they were out of rice, she and her dad couldn’t make kimbap for breakfast together.

Not only did she have to settle for eating cereal, she couldn’t wear her favorite Funday shirt because it was in the wash.

But perhaps her luck would change. Yoomi was excited to ride the bus with Dad to Koreatown. They first stopped at the library bookmobile where Yoomi discovered the book she wanted had already been checked out. Then at the Korean grocery store somebody beat her to the last hot dog twist!

Dad suggested a different treat, which Yoomi liked. Things were starting to look up until she spilled her brothers’ favorite treat all over her second favorite shirt. Oh no!

Yoomi was convinced Sunday was totally ruined. But Dad reassured her all was not lost since they were still going to visit Grandma. Could she help turn things around and make it a Funday after all?

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Billy Collins: poet, bard, rhymer, versifier, sonnetist, parodist, lyricist, rhapsodist

March 12, 2021March 12, 2021 ~ jama ~ 39 Comments

“I am bravery. I am courage. I am valor. I am daring. I am holding a thesaurus.” ~ Demetri Martin

THESAURUS
by Billy Collins

It could be the name of a prehistoric beast
that roamed the Paleozoic earth, rising up
on its hind legs to show off its large vocabulary,
or some lover in a myth who is metamorphosed into a book.

It means treasury, but it is just a place
where words congregate with their relatives,
a big park where hundreds of family reunions
are always being held,
house, home, abode, dwelling, lodgings, and digs,
all sharing the same picnic basket and thermos;
hairy, hirsute, woolly, furry, fleecy, and shaggy
all running a sack race or throwing horseshoes,
inert, static, motionless, fixed and immobile
standing and kneeling in rows for a group
photograph.

Here father is next to sire and brother close
to sibling, separated only by fine shades of meaning.
And every group has its odd cousin, the one
who traveled the farthest to be here:
astereognosis, polydipsia, or some eleven
syllable, unpronounceable substitute for the word
tool.
Even their own relatives have to squint at their name tags.

I can see my own copy up on a high shelf.
I rarely open it, because I know there is no
such thing as a synonym and because I get nervous
around people who always assemble with their own 
kind,
forming clubs and nailing signs to closed front doors
while others huddle alone in the dark streets.

I would rather see words out on their own, away
from their families and the warehouse of Roget,
wandering the world where they sometimes fall
in love with a completely different word.
Surely, you have seen pairs of them standing forever
next to each other on the same line inside a poem,
a small chapel where weddings like these,
between perfect strangers, can take place. 

~ from The Art of Drowning (University of Pittsburgh 
Press, 1995)

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[tasty review+ giveaway] Let’s Pop, Pop, Popcorn! by Cynthia Schumerth and Mary Reaves Uhles

March 9, 2021March 7, 2021 ~ jama ~ 19 Comments

So glad you popped in — you’re just in time for some hot, lightly salted (with a little bit o’ butter) popcorn!

America’s favorite snack — so friendly, affordable, and accommodating — is pure magic. All it needs is a little heat and it’s more than happy to make itself. 🙂

Ever wonder how those hard little kernels manage to turn themselves into a mountain of fluffy, flavorful bites?

In Let’s Pop, Pop, Popcorn!, a brand new picture book by Cynthia Schumerth and Mary Reaves Uhles (Sleeping Bear Press, 2021), we get a “seed to snack” peek at the process of growing, harvesting, and finally popping tasty, lick-the-salt-off-your-fingers popcorn. Mmmmmm!

In jaunty rhyming verse, half a dozen enthusiastic kids tell us about each step of their special project.

Dig the ground up with a hoe.
Plant the seeds and hope they grow.
Sunshine warms them in the earth.
Raindrops fall to quench their thirst.

They work together, sharing tasks such as hoeing, planting, watering, weeding, and of course, waiting.

How excited they are to see the first shoots come up, as they work diligently to protect their tender green plants, which grow from knee high to waist high, and finally, “past our heads.”

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a touch of yellow

March 5, 2021July 24, 2023 ~ jama ~ 43 Comments

“Yellow is capable of charming God.” ~ Vincent Van Gogh

YELLOW BUTTERFLIES BRING HAPPINESS
by Sharon Lask Munson

When she relocated to her new home
I gave my darling niece a teapot,
bestowed lifelong advice --
every home needs a touch of yellow.

Days later, a friend wrote
she was wearing the butter-yellow sweater
I gave her on a blustery day.

There have been other yellows --
first daffodils of spring,
summer sunflowers,
my citron slicker,
daisies -- he loves me, he loves me not,
the gold ring on my finger.

I slice fresh lemon for tea,
spread local honey on toast,
sing "My Only Sunshine."
I admire the canary a friend
keeps in her kitchen,
the melody of his song.

I remember Dagwood and Blondie
in the Sunday funnies,
snap up Atlantic Avenue
and Marvin Gardens playing Monopoly,
watch out for children
as yellow school buses pull up to the curb.

I bake lemon meringue pies,
buy butter to spread on sweet corn,
make goldenrod toast
for Sunday night suppers,
center the table with beeswax candles,
keep curtains open as the moon rises.

Just a touch of yellow, even a tiny bit, brings joy, sunshine, radiance, optimism, vitality, freshness, hope.

It’s almost impossible to be sad once yellow flutters in.

One Christmas when I was 10 or 11, I received a yellow cardigan — it had pretty scalloped trim around the collar, sleeves, and hem — and yarn covered buttons! How I loved it, even though it was usually too warm to wear it. The important thing is that it came from a favorite aunt who had excellent taste in all things. Her gift made such an impression on me that I’m still thinking about it over 50 years later.

Like Munson, I, too, rejoice at those first spring daffodils (the only flowers we have that are deer proof), and I love all things butter, baking delectable treats with it, melting it over popcorn, spreading it on warm biscuits or toast. It simply makes everything taste better. Hello, beautiful butter, my lifelong friend. You can make me ecstatic with a single pat.

This poem also made me think of my parents. My dad’s favorite pie was lemon meringue, and though there were no sunflowers in our yard, we had cheery oncidium orchids and an abundance of yellow plumeria thanks to my mom’s green thumb. Yellow plumeria lei for May Day and Aloha Week — such good memories!