A new poem about the right thing…

A new poem about the right thing…

Think again

about doing the right thing

(a new poem)

 

 

Vanity

 

Is it too hard to do the right thing?

Is it right to do the hard thing?

 

We feel old passion to stand up

and stand fast,

   in our crystal rectitude,

      for the right thing.

We know it, we love it,

   it is a thriving joy,

      manifest in our minds

      and in our hearts.

 

 

 

 

 

The mighty do not marvel.

The minions are not moved.

Other multitudes will not make

a murmur to urge us

to dream of good works,

   they do not encourage yearning

   to do the public good that slights no man.

 

Our prospect is more vain striving,

   or the meaner choice:

   endorse a pale type of the right thing.

 

The hard work—

the imperative reach for some right portion—

is to make our halloo to a lesser incarnation

of this dream that will not live in other hearts.

 

March 11, 2016

You might think that desperate convulsions in the Republican presidential primary in the spring of 2016 could have been the wellspring of this poem. In fact, I wrote it reflectively, as a reminder to my idealistic self that commitment to the right thing is of paramount importance, and that acknowledgement of the realistic possibilities is an imperative precondition for effective action.

Striving for the unreachable is a vanity.

A wise person said: pick battles you can win.

*   *   *   *   *   *

For a change of pace,

read this book review

of one woman’s desperate childhood,

The Homeplace by Marilyn Nelson

click here

 

My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2017 All rights reserved.

My first name was rain: A dreamery of poems with 53 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

 

It’s easy to remember the sauce

(my nature poem)

“Debut”

click here

 

 

 

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The Homeplace (book review)

The Homeplace (book review)

Book review:

The Homeplace

 

by Marilyn Nelson Waniek (b.1946)

Prize-winning American poet

Baton Rouge, LA: Louisiana State University Press, 1990

 

Thinking about writing this review of The Homeplace re-boots the cold explosion in my self.

Honestly, there was turmoil in this reading.

Marilyn Nelson Waniek is a respected black poet. I’m an old white guy who writes and cares about poetry.

I don’t read much poetry by other writers that appeals to me. I know this doesn’t make me special. I think it’s an ordinary experience.

When I say much of Marilyn Nelson’s work doesn’t appeal to me, that doesn’t signify much of anything out of the ordinary.

When I say that some of poems wrap their hands around my throat and squeeze directly through to my soul, I mean exactly what those words mean.

It’s not “black poetry,” let’s get that straight. That term necessarily implies that there is “white poetry.” I think there are ways to characterize poetry, but the demeaning simplicity of “black poetry” or “white poetry” isn’t acceptable. I think it’s not possible. Poetry is personal, and it doesn’t have a skin color.

Here’s an excerpt from The Homeplace: these are words from “Chosen,” an understated account of a white Southern master and Diverne, a young black woman who is his slave, and Pomp, their son.

 

“Diverne wanted to die, that August night

his face hung over hers, a sweating moon.

She wished so hard, she killed part of her heart

…And the man who came

out of a twelve-room house and ran to her

close shack across three yards that night, to leap

onto her cornshuck pallet. Pomp was their

share of the future. And it wasn’t rape.

In spite of her raw terror. And his whip.”

 

I’d like to say I think I want to walk a mile in Marilyn Nelson’s shoes.

Maybe I was able to trudge a few steps when I read her poems.

*   *   *   *

Walking on the beach is so personal

Do you remember?…”Take your time,” my poem

click here

 

Book review. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2017 All rights reserved.

My first name was rain: A dreamery of poems with 53 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

 

 

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Book review: Shawshank Redemption

Book review: Shawshank Redemption

Book review:

 

Rita Hayworth

     and the Shawshank Redemption

by Stephen King (b.1947)

 

This irrepressible, inscrutable short story by Stephen King is about bad people who are sort of really good people, and sort of good people who refuse to let really bad things become their way of life.

Red is a murderer, but we get past that in the first pages. Red is the philosopher-king of Shawshank Prison. For my money, Red is the point of the story. He repents his crime, he does the time, he comes to understand Andy Dufresne’s untouchable devotion to regaining his rightful freedom, and Red finally, doggedly, walks the line of rock walls in hayfields in Buxton until he unearths the final proof of a friendship, and hope.

Andy remains a mysterious character, all the way to the end. We know he’s innocent, we know he is cruelly and unjustly entombed and forgotten in hell, we know what he does in Shawshank, we admire his motivation, and yet we know the man only as Red knows him. Red is a passive observer, attentive to be sure, and responsive to Andy’s intellect and his bulldog determination, but Red never penetrates Andy’s mind, never really understands Andy’s private self.

For me, as for Red, the man Dufresne has a full-length poster picture of himself taped to the top of his head, and we never are able to get behind the poster and get in to the real Andy.

 

Enfin, I cheered Andy’s escape, and I was happy that Red finally got on the bus to McNary, Texas, and I think the two will enjoy a decent life in Zihuatanejo…and I think they live in a different world that I do not know, and do not want to know.

 

p.s. the movie is as good as the book.

 

Book review. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2017 All rights reserved.

 

Book review: Lord of the Flies

Never more relevant…

by William Golding

click here

 

Poets talk about poetry

…a red hot bucket of love…

click here

Book review: An Empire on the Edge

by Nick Bunker

The British wanted to win

                       the Revolutionary War,

         but they had good reasons

               for not trying too hard…

click here

As with another eye: Poems of exactitude with 55 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

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Impedimenta

Impedimenta

Impedimenta

 

I open my mind to poetic whimsies,

   but the clatter of the TV voices

   makes it hard to listen to

   the other spirits who fill the ether,

      who strive to call, each to each,

         and to me.

 

I open my eyes to new vistas

beyond my familiar view,

   but the dervish clutter of dancing logos

   and streaming headlines

   and indulgently obscure commercial images

   makes it hard to clearly see

   the protean scenes

   that may ripen my life.

 

The beguiling screen fades to dark.

 

I breathe in, deeply….

I’m wide open.

 

August 23, 2016

Published February 2017 in my first collection, Writing Rainbows: Poems for Grown-Ups

(I was trying to write in a waiting room, where I couldn’t find a seat that wasn’t facing a TV screen. Dante Alighieri never imagined this particular hell…)

 

My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2017 All rights reserved.

A poem about the right thing

…and the lesser incarnation…

“Vanity”

click here

Writing Rainbows: Poems for Grown-Ups with 59 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

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Thoughtful book reviews by Rick Subber

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