“Bounty” by Robyn Sarah

December 10, 2021December 10, 2021 ~ jama ~ 35 Comments

“Be present in all things and thankful for all things.” ~ Maya Angelou

BOUNTY
by Robyn Sarah

Make much of something small.
The pouring-out of tea,
a drying flower's shadow on the wall
from last week's sad bouquet.
A fact: it isn't summer any more.

Say that December sun
is pitiless, but crystalline
and strikes like a bell.
Say it plays colours like a glockenspiel.
It shows the dust as well,

the elemental sediment
your broom has missed,
and lights each grain of sugar spilled
upon the tabletop, beside
pistachio shells, peel of a clementine.

Slippers and morning papers on the floor,
and wafts of iron heat from rumbling rads,
can this be all? No, look — here comes the cat,
with one ear inside out.
Make much of something small.

~ from A Day's Grace (Porcupine's Quill, 2003)

This contemplative gem by Canadian poet Robyn Sarah is such a lovely meditation on gratitude.

What a beautiful reminder that despite lives often overwhelmed by rush and stress (especially during the holidays), we’re all blessed with a bounty of small miracles.

Focussing on the everyday, the ordinary, what often goes unnoticed — has been my default practice for many years. I enjoyed Robyn Sarah’s vivid images and sensory details (she began with “the pouring-out of tea”)! And how beautiful is that crystalline December sun that strikes like a bell?

Now, in the spirit of the season, make much of something adorable: “Merry Christmas, Happy New Year” by Ingrid Michaelson and Zoey Deschanel (amazing felt creations by Andrea Love, set and character design by Phoebe Wahl). Stop motion animation at its finest. The entire team did a great job with this. So charming — see if you don’t feel like hugging yourself from all the cuteness. 🙂

Cathy Mere is hosting the Roundup at Merely Day by Day . Skip on over to check out the full menu of poetic goodness being shared around the blogosphere this week. See you next Friday for a big Outlander holiday celebration! 🙂

[savory poem + recipe] sing a song of soup

November 26, 2021November 25, 2021 ~ jama ~ 25 Comments

“It is impossible to think of any good meal, no matter how plain or elegant, without soup or bread in it.” ~ M.F. K. Fisher

SOUP ALLURE
by Nancy Dymond

Combine the following and stir:
A fragrant powder of savory herbs
Tree nuts tossed and gently toasted
Vegetables oiled and slowly roasted
Broth of beef, honey of bee
Flake of parsley, salt of sea

In a great pot over a medium flame
Provoke rolling bubbles of rising steam
Turn to the lettuces; wash, chop, mix
Color with celery and carrot strips
Raisins? Almonds? Olives and cheese?
Tomatoes? Scallions? All of these?

Reduce the flame to a quiet simmer
Set the table for evening dinner
A scalloped knife beside the bread
Jam to sweeten and butter to spread
What more could a person want from life
Than a salad, a soup, and a loaf with a knife?


~ from Sleep Barn (Stockport Flats, 2015).

*“Salad Bowl” by Tjalf Sparnaay (oil on linen, 2006)*

It’s always nice when soup season returns each fall. There is something so comforting about having a pot of soup simmering on the stove with its promise of a satisfying meal later on. Making soup is calming and therapeutic — you can’t rush homemade soup.

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a rose by any other name may or may not smell as sweet

November 19, 2021November 19, 2021 ~ jama ~ 55 Comments

“I like my name pronounced by your lips in a grateful, happy accent.” ~ Charlotte Brontë

WHY I CHANGED MY NAME
by Phyllis Wax

My father-in-law calls me Lois,
his other son’s wife.

Mail comes addressed to
Phyllis R. or Phyllis M. Wax.
I don’t have a middle initial.

My daughters call me Mom,
my sons-in-law Mother.
To my grandchildren I’m Meme.

To the waitress at the diner
I’m Honey or Dear.

Some people confuse me
with my good friend. To them
I’m Helen.

Today the mailman brought 
some coupons for Yolanda Wax.  
I kind of like that.
Please call me Yolanda.

~ as posted at Your Daily Poem, October 2021

Had a good laugh reading ~~Phyllis’s~~ Yolanda’s poem. Talk about being able to relate!

Who hasn’t been called all kinds of different names? Maybe we’ve been given special nicknames by family or friends (Auntie Ella called me “Jade,” Lindsay called me “Eloise,” Tanita calls me “jama-j”). Perhaps our significant others use pet names or terms of endearment (Len calls me “Lulu,” “Curly Top,” “Cutie,” or “Shirley” — I call him “Digby”).

Of course many names are shortened for ease or familiarity: “Bob/Bobby” for Robert, “Dick” for Richard, “Liz/Betty/Betsy” for Elizabeth, “Sam” for Samantha. I’ll never understand “Jack” for John or “Harry” for Henry, though. Why not name him Jack to begin with?

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Lunching with Frank O’Hara

November 5, 2021November 4, 2021 ~ jama ~ 34 Comments

“I am the least difficult of men. All I want is boundless love.” ~ Frank O’Hara

Lunch hour! Let’s step into Frank O’Hara’s shoes as he scurries around Manhattan.

*Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers in “Swing Time” (1936)*

STEPS
by Frank O'Hara

How funny you are today New York
like Ginger Rogers in Swingtime
and St. Bridget’s steeple leaning a little to the left

here I have just jumped out of a bed full of V-days
(I got tired of D-days) and blue you there still
accepts me foolish and free
all I want is a room up there
and you in it
and even the traffic halt so thick is a way
for people to rub up against each other
and when their surgical appliances lock
they stay together
for the rest of the day (what a day)
I go by to check a slide and I say
that painting’s not so blue

where’s Lana Turner
she’s out eating
and Garbo’s backstage at the Met
everyone’s taking their coat off
so they can show a rib-cage to the rib-watchers
and the park’s full of dancers with their tights and shoes
in little bags
who are often mistaken for worker-outers at the West Side Y
why not
the Pittsburgh Pirates shout because they won
and in a sense we’re all winning
we’re alive

the apartment was vacated by a gay couple
who moved to the country for fun
they moved a day too soon
even the stabbings are helping the population explosion
though in the wrong country
and all those liars have left the UN
the Seagram Building’s no longer rivalled in interest
not that we need liquor (we just like it)

and the little box is out on the sidewalk
next to the delicatessen
so the old man can sit on it and drink beer
and get knocked off it by his wife later in the day
while the sun is still shining

oh god it’s wonderful
to get out of bed
and drink too much coffee
and smoke too many cigarettes
and love you so much

~ from Lunch Poems (City Lights Books, 1964)