Vikram Seth

For anyone not using Mozilla Firefox as a web browser, let me just take a moment to point you to where you can download it for free: Firefox. Once you have installed Firefox you can then download add-ons like Stumble Upon which will randomly take you to web pages based on the preferences you set up. I have wasted more time "Stumbling" on the web than I care to admit. The reason I enjoy doing it so much is because of the very many opportunities to run into things that are awesome. Maybe it's just me. If I find something I like, I learn more about it and often find I like it even more. Here is a very good example of this: Vikram Seth

I stumbled here and found this poem that spoke to me in a way that those of you who know me understand.

All You who Sleep Tonight

All you who sleep tonight
Far from the ones you love,
No hand to left or right
And emptiness above -

Know that you aren't alone
The whole world shares your tears,
Some for two nights or one,
And some for all their years.

~Vikram Seth


The poem lead me to learn more about Vikram Seth and, on the Wikipedia page about him, I found this gem. How can I NOT love him?!

Some men like Jack and some like Jill
I'm glad I like them both but still
I wonder if this freewheeling
Really is an enlightened thing,
Or is its greater scope a sign
Of deviance from some party line?
In the strict ranks of Gay and Straight
What is my status: Stray? Or Great?


My vote? GREAT!

Seriously, ya'll need to upgrade to Mozilla Firefox, add Stumble Upon and see where the serendipitous binary Fates lead you.

Steven Tyler & Carly Simon

No one can accuse me of being a snob about music. The sad truth is I don't think about music very much at all. Don't get me wrong, I love music. It stirs the emotions. It's meaningful, playful, inspiring, all that crap. What's not to love? Well, I can think of one thing: music award shows. I normally don't watch music award shows, but having accidentally taped The American Music Awards Show Sunday night when 'Desperate Housewives' and 'Brothers & Sisters' were preempted (and having only three channels), I decided to see what was happening in American Music. I was not impressed. I'll spare everyone the rant about the stupid (dare I say ludicrous?) rap star names. I'll even forgo dissing on the pop women in barely-there clothes ('cause seriously, who doesn't love looking at hot, leggy women?) What shocked me the most was Steven Tyler. Yes, the frontman for Aerosmith, father to Liv, THAT Steven Tyler. Now, I like Aerosmith as much as the next person who grew up in the eighties, but when did he turn into Carly Simon? Did I miss something? Am I so out of touch with the music scene that I never saw this happening? Did everybody know about this but me?

Oh, and I noticed that Carly Simon wasn't at the show. Coincidence?

The Lame Quotes Blog

I know this is a bit like cheating, like your favorite TV show claiming to air a new episode after a bunch of re-runs only to find that it is a clip show; but I am a huge fan of quotes whether they are funny, make you think, or (if they are really good) do both. Some of these quotes I pulled from this site, but most of them are ones I have collected over the years. So, in no particular order, here they are:


Beware the lollipop of mediocrity. Lick it once and you suck forever.
-unknown

A layman knows he has to kick it. An amateur knows where to kick it. A professional knows how hard.
-unknown

I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reason, and intellect has intended us to forgo their use.
-Galileo Galilei

I read somewhere that 77 percent of all the mentally ill live in poverty. Actually, I'm more intrigued by the 23 percent who are apparently doing quite well for themselves.
-Jerry Garcia

Ever notice how they have to distinguish between Truth, Justice, and *then* the American Way?
-Richard Darwin

Either the United States will destroy ignorance or ignorance will destroy the United States.
-W. E. B. Dubois

The Buddha, the Godhead, resides quite as comfortably in the circuits of a digital computer or the gears of a cycle transmission as he does at the top of a mountain or in the petals of a flower. To think otherwise is to demean the Buddha -- which is to demean oneself.
-Robert Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Technology will definitely solve all our problems, but in the process it will create brand-new ones. But that's OK because the most you can expect from life is to get to solve better and better problems.
-Scott Adams

Once you make a decision the Universe conspires to make it happen.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

I try to take one day at a time, but sometimes several days attack me at once.
-Ashleigh Brilliant

Not one shred of evidence supports the notion that life is serious.
-unknown

If you're going through hell, keep going.
-Winston Churchill

I've had a perfectly wonderful evening, but this wasn't it.
-Groucho Marx

Life is a continual process of getting used to things we never expected.
-unknown

If Homosexuality is a disease, let's all call in queer to work. "Hello, can't work today. Still queer.'"
-Robin Tyler

Some people stay longer in an hour than others can in a week.
-William Howells

I'd love to stay but that would prevent me from leaving.
-Hawkeye Pierce, M*A*S*H

There is nothing so frightful as ignorance in action.
-Goethe

Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent. Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil? Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?
-Epicurus

I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.
-Edgar Allan Poe

Long after they forget the words, people will remember how you made them feel.
-unknown

FloPoSo Writing Group

According to our moderator, Rich Pulchalsky, Leslea Newman once commented that the Florence Poets Society had a penchant for raunchy poems. I do not doubt the comment (which I am paraphrasing) since I have heard quite a lot of poems from the members of the FloPoSo (as we affectionately call ourselves). That being said, our prompt for this month's writing group was "raunchy poetry". Due to a scheduling conflict we were ousted from our normally spacious room with real tables and chairs and instead relegated to what I think was referred to as a staff room that contained kid-sized chairs and a bookshelf of books for children (among other things). Anyway, in this very UNRAUNCHY room we were challenged to write either about raunchy poetry or to write a raunchy poem. I wrote the first poem in a lame attempt at humour, and while in context it seems funny, it is sort of creepy. I then worked on part three of chapter nine (which is going quite well). I got to a good stopping point with the novel, but others in the group were still writing and, since I hate waiting, I wrote the second poem.

Raunchy Poem Writing Prompt

I Googled raunchy poems
and found nothing more than slams
I went to face my writing group
to face that I'm a sham
I cannot write a dirty poem
with those come hither looks
instead I'll write some titles down
from all these children's books

Tickle Tickle
Wee Willie Winkie
Brown Bear, Brown Bear What Do You See?
Each Peach Pear Plum
Rusty's Bone
Touch and Feel clothes
Find the Duck
Goose on the Loose
The Princess and the Pig
The Going to Bed Book

ltv

PS If you really need to check the authenticity of the children's book titles, click here. And yes, I probably am going to hell.


how not to write an erotic poem

a sensuous poem
doesn't need to be hot
to allude to the beautiful
features one's got
mentioning parts whether
alone or in pairs
should neither be raunchy
nor take on false airs
a curve, a caress
or that moment that causes
neck hairs to tingle
and intimate pauses
moisture within the
confines of the body
can be glistening or musky
but need not be bawdy
words to your partner
in whispers or screams
are only as filthy
as the other one deems
so don't write a poem
filled with words that are cheap
write one your lover
will recognize and keep

ltv

Succumbing to Lamentations

A friend of mine expressed his disappointment in my not posting on a regular basis. And while I can't ever promise to do anything on a regular basis, I will attempt to post more frequently. Of course, this means my readers will have to suffer through the poetry or rants that slough off the top of my head in response to me watching emotional TV programs, reading the news, or whatever else happens to annoy or bring joy to me. Consider yourselves warned.


in the moment

there is no why
for abuse only
when and how
blows will come
regardless of past
traumas suffered
by either person
don't tell me
why you hit
tell me when
you will stop

ltv


Northampton Poet Laureate Leslea Newman has announced a new poetry prize and issued a challenge to poets (or anyone) to write poems on the topic of joy. Last night I attempted to write a threnody on joy, thinking of both the irony of the subject matter and possibly a play on the woman's name; however, this is what came out instead.


lamentation of a broken heart

in matters of
the mind or heart
it's better to
keep both apart

feelings held
within the chest
without a thought
are felt best

ideals thought
to be the way
will only lead
you to dismay

the one true path
to conscious love
is either felt
or not thought of

ltv

Word-a-Day Language Poem

A co-worker of mine has a word-a-day calendar that she complained she routinely forget to update. When I suggested I would make a poem with the words she tore off to bring the calendar up-to-date, I should have made note of the date it was on. It turns out it hadn't been updated in several days, well, okay weeks. Still, the poetic gauntlet had been thrown down (even if I was the one who threw it) and to preserve my poetic honor I had to make good on the poem. So, without further apologies for the content here is my word-a-day language poem.

Threnody with Flageolet*

though one may glower
at the controvertible
symposiums on
laissez-faire lycanthropy
there is a fealty
to finding a theriac
to this occasionally
lethargic condition
(which is not to be
confused, as some louts
do, with brain freeze)

one may consider it
a prehensile farce
with the gumption
to ideate vicariously
through uncouth
pariahs while ingratiating
itself with its audience
without jeopardy
of a sub rosa philippic
by condoning sentient
pleonasm from a
carceral redoubt

ltv


*I swear on my poetic license that I did not omit any words she gave me as being "too difficult to include" (as I'm sure you may have guessed from the words in the poem).

FloPoSo Tonight

Howdy Folks, Sorry I had to bail on the FloPoSo meeting tonight. As some of you know I was recently diagnosed with degenerative joint disease which is primarily presenting as pain in the low back and neck. I have good days and bad days and, unfortunately, today was a bad day. So, enough of all of that. On to the poetry...

Though I have been working on my novel (such as it is), I do still write poetry because, as I have mentioned before, it is like breathing to me. I simply can't stop doing it. I was inspired to write tonight (Poetry Whores) and have also included a poem I wrote earlier this week (the Hope of the Lost). Feel free to check out the links to the right. I have added Rich Puchalsky's blog . Rich is a fellow FloPoSo member and has also started a writing group (of which I am a member). (Also, ask him about adding your chapbook to the UMass Western MA Poetry Chapbook collection.)



the Hope of the Lost

in that place
where the other
dryer sock goes
where echoes
start and end
like identities
where matter
succumbs
to the over-powering
gravity of a
collapsing star
Nothing comes
from Nothing
except once
when Something did.

ltv


Poetry Whores

unassuming they
listen loudly
to poet johns
linger on a phrase
moaning appreciatively
with dulcet eyes
only a cynic
wouldn't believe
their lies of emotion
which they believe
are true responses
as do you when
its your turn to read

ltv

I am Kitteh! Hear me MEOW!

Here's an update on Mackenzie:
It's been two months since I dropped her off at the farm, a place I thought would be perfect for her. And it's been two months since anyone has seen her anywhere on the farm (although the farmer's father helpfully told me on one visit that they also hadn't found a body). It's been two months of me driving by the road that the farm is on and sometimes crying because I feel guilty at her apparent and immediate demise at the hands of the cold harsh reality of outdoor life. It's been two months and I am still trying to make peace within myself that I may never know for sure what happened to her.

Last night, I was card shopping for my uncle who turned 49 this year (ten years older than me). On the front cover of a card was an adorably cute grey kitten that reminded me of Mackenzie (and, yes, my heart panged a little). Inside the card read: "See, the more grey hair you have the cuter you look!" I had to buy it. Last night was also Samhain, the end of the Wiccan Year. I spent it, as I usually do, meditating at Emily Dickinson's gravesite in Amherst. Without going into too much detail into my reflections of the past year, the salient point is that the issue of Mackenzie came up. I reconciled the notion that she had probably succumbed to something in the wild but I also tried to believe that she is happy somewhere living off the land and just not wanting to be seen by all those scary people that aren't "Mom".

Jump forward eighteen hours to Saturday (today). I am with a friend checking out all the new stores in Thornes Marketplace when my cell phone rings. "It's R***." (No, not my boss. No, not my ex-husband. The farmer who just happened to have the same name!) He had spotted Mackenzie and it seems she is living around the hay barn. I was ecstatic! I drove to the farm later in the day and called to her. I think she spent the entire time I was there meowing. She was still very skittish, but she came to me. I checked her out, made sure eyes, ears, nose, paws and the rest were all okay. And, except for her thinness, she was looking great. The farmer gave me some cat food for her, which she ate right out of my hand. I got her to come out of her hiding space and sit in the open so that the farmer's niece could take a look at her. (Of course, the minute the girl turned her head to look, Little Big Mack took off to hide again.) I feel so much better knowing that she has made a home for herself at the farm. And, now that the farmer knows she's around he'll resume putting food and water out near where she is hanging out and hopefully she'll flesh out a little bit for winter. I expect I will be visiting from time to time since it was very clear that Mack wanted and needed some loving from her Mom.

What a wonderful way to start my new year! I can't express (without sounding like a Hallmark card that is) how relieved I am that she is alive and well. It validates my decision to bring her there. (I really did do a good thing for her and not sentence her to a horribly painful death.) It is times like these, when my heart is filled with hope and contentment and all is right in my world, that I am exceedingly grateful that I do not have children.