Poetry Friday--"The Seed Shop"

In an old poetry anthology, An Inheritance of Poetry, collected and arranged by Gladys L. Adshead and Annis Duff (Houghton Mifflin, 1948), I came across this poem by Muriel Stuart:

The Seed Shop

Here in a quiet and dusty room they lie,
Faded as crumbled stone or shifting sand,
Forlorn as ashes, shrivelled, scentless, dry--
Meadows and gardens running through my hand.

In this brown husk a dale of hawthorn dreams;
A cedar in this narrow cell is thrust
That will drink deeply of a century's streams;
These lilies shall make summer on my dust.

Here in their safe and simple house of death,
Sealed in their shells, a million roses leap;
Here I can blow a garden with my breath,
And in my hand a forest lies asleep.

This is quite simple and lovely, don't you think? These lilies shall make summer on my dust is a line to die for!

Who was Muriel Stuart? Muriel Stuart was born in England in 1885 and died 82 years later. Her poetry was, according to a brief entry in Wikipedia, "particularly concerned with the topic of sexual politics." That bit intrigued me, so I went looking for "her most famous poem," "In the Orchard." If you want to read a poem that deals with matters that are still relevant today, take a look at "In the Orchard." The more things change, the more they stay the same--at least as far as young love is concerned.

Visit Kelly Polark for this week's Poetry Friday Round-Up.

--Diane

Photo by chicks57

Women of Wednesday--Accomplished Failure

There are some women in the world who are highly accomplished in a particular field, but who completely fail at being admirable human beings. In selecting women for the "Notable Women" series, we've come across a few.

I want to briefly mention one today, Henrietta (Hetty) Green (1834-1916).



Here's how Time magazine described Hetty, in an obituary of her son, Edward (Ned):

the penny-pinching "Witch of Wall Street" who used to shuttle between Brooklyn and Hoboken to avoid establishing residence and paying taxes while she was making millions in the stockmarket.

When she died, Hetty's fortune was estimated at $20,000,000 to $100,000,000. In today's money that would be a astronomical figure (if you want to figure it out, click here.)

There are many stories about Hetty that are practically unbelievable, and yet...

1. Already a multi-millionaire, she contested her aunt's will in court (money was to have gone to charity). It was alleged, and experts testified, that Hetty had forged her aunt's signature on documents.

2. After suffering from a knee injury for two years, she finally took her son to a charity hospital. There, upon recognition, he was refused treatment without payment. Hetty left without having him treated. The result? Ned lost his leg.

3. She chose to live in boarding houses and use public transportation to save money.

4. She only owned one black skirt which she wore until it became tattered enough to require replacement, only then did she purchase another one. (There are also stories of her sitting around in her underwear while her one-and-only skirt was being cleaned.)

Here's quote from Hetty herself when she was questioned about why she needed a firearm, "Mostly to protect myself against lawyers. I'm not much afraid of burglars or highwaymen." Whether she said this in jest, or not, is another question.

On the basis of her wealth and her shrewdness in investing, Hetty was definitely "notable," but, should a woman like Hetty be included in a collection of "notable women" for children? What do you think?

--Diane

Mentor Monday--Be More Creative!

If you're a writer you probably think that butt-in-chair and putting down words on paper or screen is all the creativity you need--WRONG! Your brain and soul need more. Start thinking in terms of art, music, or dance. Think of flower arranging or planning a garden. Think of selecting color combinations for a scarf you'll knit. Think of designing a birdhouse. Think of attending a sing-along program. Think of do-si-doing, pirouetting, grape-vining, or chugging.

Give plot twists, word choices, revision techniques a rest and feed your soul.

In these difficult economic times, many school systems are considering the elimination of arts in the schools! This thought horrifies me, as it should you. A good education includes a big dose of soul food (I don't mean candied yams and ham hocks). [For a little information on education and the arts, click here.] I'm going to borrow from the educators who support the arts and show you what a creative activity can do for you:

1. strengthens problem-solving and critical thinking skills.
2. develops a sense of craftsmanship, quality task performance, and goal-setting.
3. provides an alternative to destructive behavior (okay, ladies, I'm talking to you--if you're busy with art, you won't be hitting the bag of chips).
4. develops more appreciation and understanding of the world.
5. develops a positive work ethic and pride in a job well done.

Many writers keep a journal. Some swear it gets their creative juices flowing. I'd like to offer additional way of journal-keeping--one which incorporates art. Add drawings and paintings (hey, there's nothing wrong with stick figures, but, you can always use museum postcards or pictures from magazines), paste on words torn from junk mailings, glue in a dried flower or leaf, etc. You could find a piece in your journal and then find a piece of music that provides a similar mood. Or, if you won't feel too dorky, try dancing an emotion from your journal (I know this won't work for you, Write Sister-who-shall-remain-nameless,--you wouldn't even pretend to be a winter sport participant in a workshop for preschool educators!)

Start simple. If craft-like additions to your journal activity provide you with creative satisfaction, then you might want to look into a book such as Journal Spilling: Mixed-Media Techniques for Free Expression by Diana Trout (North Light Books, 2009) or a book on collage or scrapbooking, to take you further.

I don't want you to be intimidated by what you see in the video below--it's waaaay beyond the capabilities of most of us, but listening to the journal-keeper will surely inspire.



In case you're thinking, I can't be creative, I want to leave you with this quote from Edward de Bono, "Creativity can be learned like basketball, which does not mean we will all be NBA stars." You may not be a Rembrandt, or a Norah Jones, either, but you will be a more complex human being, and, a better writer.

--Diane

Poetry Friday

"OUT, OUT--"

The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
And from there those that lifted eyes could count
Five mountain ranges one behind the other
Under the sunset far into Vermont.
And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,
As it ran light, or had to bear a load.

And nothing happened: day was all but done.
Call it a day, I wish they might have said
To please the boy by giving him the half hour
That a boy counts so much when saved from work.
His sister stood beside them in her apron
To tell them "Supper." At the word, the saw,
As if to prove that saws knew what supper meant,
Leaped out of the boy's hand, or seemed to leap--

He must have given the hand. However it was,
Neither refused the meeting. But the hand!
The boy's first outcry was a rueful laugh,
As he swung toward them holding up the hand
Half in appeal, but half as if to keep
The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all--
Since he was old enough to know, big boy
Doing a man's work, though a child at heart--

He saw all spoiled. "Don't let him cut my hand off--
The doctor when he comes. Don't let him, sister!"
So. But the hand was gone already.
The doctor put him into the dark of ether.
He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.
And then--the watcher at his pulse took fright.
No one believed. They listened at his heart.
Little--less--nothing!--and that ended it.

No more to build on there. And they, since they
Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.

--Robert Frost

This week's poetry roundup is at The Cazzy Files

The Knife of Never Letting Go

PRENTISS TOWN ISN’T LIKE OTHER TOWNS

Everyone can hear everyone else’s thoughts in an overwhelming, never-ending stream of Noise. Just a month away from the birthday that will make him a man, Todd and his dog, Manchee--whose thoughts Todd can hear too, whether he wants to or not--stumble upon an area of complete silence. They find that in a town where privacy is impossible, something terrible has been hidden--a secret so awful that Todd and Manchee must run for their lives. But how do you escape when your pursuers can hear your every thought? (jacket copy)

The Knife of Never Letting Go is the first book in the Chaos Walking trilogy by Patrick Ness. As soon as I finished it, I went out to buy the other two in the series, The Ask and the Answer, and Monsters of Men.

Todd Hewitt lives on another world very similar to earth. When the colony first arrives, they are like any other people. But after a war with the Spackle - the original creatures who live there - a strange thing happens All the women get sick and die, and the men begin to hear the thoughts of other men. Even other animals.

The story opens one month before Todd’s thirteenth birthday. Something special happens to a boy on the day he becomes a man, but Todd has no idea what it is. Tales and gossip don’t trickle down between men and boys, because once a boy becomes a man, he no longer associates with the boys. And Todd is the last boy. He’s been friendless for about a year.

Todd likes to hang out in the swamp with his dog, Manchee, whose thoughts are also audible. Men don’t often go to the swamp, and the Noise of other men isn’t so strong there. While there, Todd discovers a hole in all the Noise. A silence. A silence that leads him to a deadly secret.

And thus the adventure begins. Todd and Manchee run for their lives and discover more and more about the secret as they go, heading to a great climax and a killer ending. Although, it is book one, so not everything’s wrapped up neatly, and that may disappoint some people.

The Knife of Never Letting Go is more Speculative Fiction than Science Fiction, I think. For those who like plot driven novels, there is non-stop action and adventure. For those who like character-driven novels, there is growth, emotion, and thought provoking ideas and issues. It’s put out by Candlewick and written for ages 14+, but I think even 6th and 7th graders would enjoy it. It’s one of the best books I’ve read in a long while