#60 in an ongoing series of posts celebrating the alphabet
Any poet who so jubilantly sings the praises of the letter A is a poet after my own heart.
from Alphabet by Paul Thurlby (2011)
THE LETTER A
by Darren Sardelli
The letter A is awesome!
It's arguably the best.
Without an A, you could not get
an A+ on a test.
You’d never see an acrobat
or eat an apple pie.
You couldn’t be an astronaut
or kiss your aunt goodbye.
An antelope would not exist.
An ape would be unknown.
You’d never hear a person
say “Afraid” or “All Alone”.
The A’s in avocado
would completely disappear
and certain words would be forgot
like “ankle”, “arm”, and “ear”.
Without the A, you couldn’t aim
an arrow in the air.
You wouldn’t ask for apricots
or almonds at a fair.
Aruba and Australia
would be missing from a map.
You’d never use an ATM,
an apron, or an app.
The arctic fox and aardvark
would be absent from the zoo,
and vowels, as you know them,
would be E, I, O, and U.
There wouldn’t be an A chord
on the instruments you play.
Let’s appreciate, admire,
and applaud the letter A!
~ Reprinted from Blast Off! (The School Magazine, 2016), posted by permissionof the author.
How fun to consider some of the marvelous things we’d miss in the absence of A!
Please help yourself to a friendly cup of hot chocolate and a yummy cookie. If you’ve been extra good this week, take two. 🙂
I think many of you would agree that October is the best autumn month. September can be a little too warm, the vestiges of summer dragging its feet, while November can have its grey, gloomy moments, inviting melancholy. Once we’re past Thanksgiving and rushing headlong into December, we’ve switched into holiday shopping mode, which doesn’t feel autumnal at all.
But October? Peak color, chipper mornings, deep blue skies, the anticipation of Halloween. Kids are happy in October dunking for apples, carving pumpkins, and fulfilling their wishes to dress up as anyone or any thing as they go trick-or-treating.
This month I was happy to discover Jeffrey Bean, a new-to-me Michigan poet who’s written a series of direct address poems beginning with “Kid, this is . . . “
Try this one on for size.
*
“Autumn’s Window” by Loré Pemberton
KID, THIS IS OCTOBER,
you can make the maples blaze
just by stopping to look,
you can set your clock to the barks
of geese. Somewhere the grandfathers
who own this town lean down to iron
crisp blue shirts, their faces bathing
in steam, and blackbirds
clamor in packs,
make plans behind corn.
You know this,
you were born whistling
at crackling stars, you snap
your fingers and big turtles
slide out of rivers to answer.
You can swim one more time
in the puddle of sun
in your water glass, taste icicles
already in the white crunch
of your lunch apple. Go
to sleep. I’ll put on my silver suit
and chase the sky into the moon.
~ from The Missouri Review, February 2016
via Madison Safer
About this poem, Jeffrey says:
One thing I love about being a parent is the way it wakes me up to the sensory details of the world. As a father of a five-year-old, I find myself trying to see through my daughter’s eyes, and in doing so I pay even more attention than usual to corn, turtles, flocks of blackbirds, maples, apples, water, etc., noticing the beauty as well as the strangeness in these things. In the series of “kid” poems from which “Kid, this is October” comes, I like the way the mode of direct address allows the father-speaker to catalog many such details in the form of advice, encouragement, pseudo-fables, or, in the case of this poem, as a kind of lullaby. He wants the kid to open up to the world as much as possible and he also wants the kid to go to sleep, which pretty much sums up my experiences with parenthood so far. What has been most interesting to me in writing these poems is the way it puts me in touch with my own childhood. It has made me realize how crucial imagination has been in my life as a kid and how crucial it continues to be in my life as a father.
It’s the same world, but we all see, hear, and feel it differently thanks to the mind’s eye. That’s our human super power, but often we need children to remind us of it.
And now, Kid, This is Mr. Linky. Feed him your poetic goodness. 🙂
*
*
Enjoy your meanderings around the blogosphere, engage in a little fall folderol this weekend, and have a Happy Halloween next Sunday.
Help yourself to a treat.Caramel, anyone?Thanks for joining us!
Have you ever received a cryptic message, only to spend the next few minutes trying to figure out what it actually means?
D.C. area poet Kim Roberts received a text from her housemate that inspired her to write this witty, intriguing poem. So much depends on the sender . . . and what the receiver wants to hear. 🙂
“Still Life with Apple II” by Jos Van Riswick(oil on panel)
POMOLOGY
by Kim RobertsI will eat the apple
read Stephen’s note this morning.
He is volunteering to play Eve.
He wrote, I will eat the apple
—but there are no apples in the house.
We have no lascivious Honeycrisp,
no bonny Braeburn, no upright Baldwin.
We’re out of spry Granny Smiths,
the skulking Northern Spy,
or the mysterious Pink Lady.
Stephen does have an Adam’s apple
and I have an Apple computer,
but you can’t compare apples and oranges.
The note said, I will eat the apple.
Perhaps Stephen’s chasing out the doctors.
Perhaps he’s not falling far from the tree.
Or he’s already eaten from the tree of knowledge:
in Latin, malum means both apple
and evil. I think Stephen is sending a warning.
He means, I will protect you.
He writes, I will eat the apple.
~ Originally published in Poem-a-Day, August 2017 by the Academy of American Poets
“Adam and Eve” by Edvard Munch (1909)
*
“Apples in a Basket” by Levi Wells Prentice(oil on canvas)
This is just to say, I’m happy Kim figured out what Stephen was trying to tell her, but . . . what if the sender had been one of mypoet friends? What were they really trying to tell me?
I will eat the apple (we seem to be out of plums) ~ William Carlos Williams
I will eat the apple (I have had too much of apple-picking) ~ Robert Frost
I will eat the apple (peaches are too risky) ~ T.S. Eliot
I will eat the apple (that is all ye need to know) ~ John Keats
I will eat the apple (to peel or not to peel, that is the question) ~ Shakespeare
I will eat the apple (judge tenderly of me) ~ Emily Dickinson
I will eat the apple (a man and a woman and an apple are one) ~ Wallace Stevens
I will eat the apple (a strain of the Earth’s sweet being in the beginning in Eden’s garden) ~ Gerard Manley Hopkins
I will eat the apple (be astonished and tell about it) ~ Mary Oliver
I will eat the apple (to follow my inner moonlight) ~ Allen Ginsberg
I will eat the apple (like a complete unknown)~ Bob Dylan
I will (not only)eat (but hold in my heart) the apple – E. E. Cummings
Now, when Mr Cornelius writes, I will eat the apple,
I know he actually means, I will eat the apple galette.
1.October, October, how we love October! This week we’re basking in some of Loré Pemberton’s autumnal art.
We featured Loré on a Cool Things Roundup last year, but since we love her work so much, we couldn’t wait to share more. You may remember she’s based in Cold Hollow, Vermont, where she creates her warm and homey acrylic and gouache paintings in the northern woods.
I love the rich detail in her pieces and her earthy palette, just perfect for this time of year. Everything gold, brown, rustic and woodsy. Mr Cornelius would like to visit all the places and meet all the animals she features in her pictures.
“Why, yes, I could start my day without coffee. But I like being able to remember things like how to say words and put on pants.”~ Nanea Hoffman
Good Morning. Let’s wake up and smell the coffee!
Happy to see you’re wearing your spiffy pants and speaking in full sentences. Do you owe it all to coffee?
Yes, I thought so. Sip, sip. Ah, arabica!
I must confess to being an anomaly when it comes to jump-starting the day with high octane java. Don’t know why, but I’ve never actually had a cup of coffee in my entire life (all 29 years). 😀
I mean, I LOVE the smell of freshly brewed coffee — walking into the kitchen with that divine aroma greeting me — but I’ve never been tempted to pour myself a cup. Strange, no?
Guess I’m just a diehard teatotaler. English Breakfast, Darjeeling or Yorkshire Gold for me, if you please.
Still, I can appreciate coffee’s universal appeal and certainly enjoy seeing how it’s inspired poets and artists.
Today we’re serving up a little sampler of coffee poems paired with Karen Eland’s amazing coffee art (yes, she painted these pieces with just espresso and water). And, because I can’t imagine having any hot beverage without a little something to nibble on, please enjoy a croissant.
*
“Girl With a Pearl Earring” by Karen Eland (2006)
COFFEE FIRST
by Dory Hudspeth
The day begins with order
and quiet, broken
only by the small ringing
of the spoon against coffee mug.
If this small ritual goes well,
no spilling, no drips,
there is hope for the day.
Jama's Alphabet Soup 