“Sara from South Dakota”

“Sara from South Dakota”

I knew it was you…

 

 

“Sara from South Dakota”

 

You’re the kid who yelled “I love the ocean!” the first time you saw it.

You’re the little kid who didn’t want to go back to the house for supper.

 

You’re the kind of kid who won’t stand still while Mom puts the lotion on.

You’re the kind of kid who won’t cry when the sunburn hurts.

 

You’re the little girl who wanted to help that baby fill up her little blue bucket.

You would NOT let your brother help you build your castles.

 

You’re the kid who doesn’t want to go home to South Dakota “ ‘cause it’s too far from the ocean, which is really fun.”

 

You’re the little kid who wasn’t afraid to ask me “What’s on the other side of the ocean?”…

and you listened to my explanation, even though it was too long,

about other countries and other people,

because you suddenly realized there are lots of places you haven’t been to,

and you’re pretty sure you want to go there, but it does seem a little scary…

You said “Thank you,” and I guessed that I had taught you something.

 

You’re young enough to be my granddaughter…

maybe I’ll have a granddaughter like you some day.

 

Later, at sundown, I saw that a child had written her name in the wet sand just below the high tide mark:

 

                “Sara from South Dakota”

                            ∼∼∼∼∼∼∼

with a squiggly line underneath.

 

I knew it was you.

You’re the kind of kid who would do it.

You’re the kind of kid who would say goodbye to the ocean.

That’s a pretty big thing for a kid to do.

 

September 11, 2010

I was on the Outer Banks, Avon, NC.

You can’t not see and hear kids on the beach. Some just dig in the sand, endlessly, without looking up. Some of them won’t let go of the boogie board. A few of the kids make a statement, you see, they live a little lifetime at the line that the surf just manages to reach, they face the ocean and they don’t look away…Sara was one of those kids.

My poem “Sara from South Dakota” was published in my first chapbook, Writing Rainbows: Poems for Grown-Ups. You can buy it on Amazon (paperback and Kindle), or get it free in Kindle Unlimited, search for “Richard Carl Subber”

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My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2019 All rights reserved.

 –

Above all: Poems of dawn and more with 73 free verse 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”

“A man’s job”         

a boy with his dad’s axe…

(my poem)

click here

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Book review: Saint Joan

Book review: Saint Joan

Shaw’s calm dissection

      of the myths…

 

 

Book review:

Saint Joan

 

by George Bernard Shaw

Baltimore, MD: Penguin Books, 1964

159 pages, with extended Preface by Shaw and Epilogue

 

I read Saint Joan as a high school kid in 1964. I don’t remember much about that reading, except that I never forgot these words that Shaw wrote for his Joan: “I cannot bear to be hurt.”

It always seemed to me that Jehanne d’Arc (c1412-1431) could be the symbol of an innocent, profoundly driven young woman who was victimized by events that made a sweep in history, yet had only personal inspiration for her.

Joan of arc drawing wikimedia 1429 Contemporaine_afb_jeanne_d_arc

Sketch of Joan from life, 1429

In France, Joan is familiar as “the maid.” Did “la pucelle d’Orléans” (the maid of Orleans) really see and hear the Archangel Michael, St. Margaret, and St. Catherine? Who knows? Was Jehanne a religious nutcase who made confession every day and liked to play soldier? Who knows? Did she inspire great and not-so-great men to do mighty and courageous things in the service of their masters and for the glory of France? She did.

 

 

 

Shaw’s lengthy Preface to his play is a calm dissection of the myths and reality of this young woman, a noble and pitiable mover-and-shaker who led French armies to victory and who was burned at the stake for heresy and for cross-dressing. In Saint Joan, Shaw has few kind words for the men who resisted, accepted, honored, used, betrayed, burned, and finally beatified a peasant girl from Domrémy-la-Pucelle in northeastern France.

The folks in her home town finally named the village for her in 1578. You could say it was the least they could do while they were waiting for the Catholic church to make her a saint in 1920.

 

Shaw’s sympathetic treatment of The Maid inspired me to write this poem:

 

la pucelle

 

Joan, Joan, Joan…

O, you trusted your dream,

you thought it was enough to heed your voices,

you thought that God was on your side

and nothing else mattered,

you risked your beautiful soul

to save France,

and you didn’t understand

that too many of the men wanted

to win something else,

you went to the fire believing

in an eternity of goodness,

and you never knew

how little of your dream was left

for the people who loved you.

 

October 22, 2018

Inspired by George Bernard Shaw’s Saint Joan

My poem “la pucelle” was published in my fourth collection of 55 poems, As with another eye: Poems of exactitude. You can buy it on Amazon (paperback and Kindle), or get it free in Kindle Unlimited (search for “Richard Carl Subber”)

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Book review. My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2018 All rights reserved.

 

The Black Canyon of the Gunnison

“…high above that wild width…”

(my poem)

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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A tempest in a prison

A tempest in a prison

Alas, Atwood didn’t use

   Shakespeare’s pen

 

 

Book review:

Hag-Seed

 

by Margaret Atwood, New York: Hogarth Shakespeare, Crown Publishing Group, 2016

 

I’m not a fan of writers who write books that are imitations or re-interpretations of other writers’ work. Hag-Seed is a case in point. Let’s be fair. Shakespeare’s plays are complex assemblages of characters, speeches and plots. Atwood’s work, nominally based on The Tempest, has the same characteristics.

Her prose and dialogue are ordinary, for my taste. Her story is about as far as one can get from magical. Of course a reader can figure out which of her characters is aligned with Shakespeare’s Prospero and Caliban and Miranda and so on. Of course a reader can see a transparent image of Shakespeare’s plot.

For my taste, Hag-Seed is an awkward, deliberately mean, and desperately inelegant version of The Tempest.

Cut loose from the Shakespeare connection, Hag-Seed is low-grade storytelling. IMNSHO.

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…and now for something completely different:

 

Hag-seed

 

Their hands are busy, rhythmic moves,

the three bend in to pace their work,

all hunched, with withered, trembling hands,

with eyes alert,

and silent lips that need not speak

the thoughts they share.

 

These crones engage each day to toil,

they do not keep a pot a-boil…

but a warming fire, as they need.

From different skeins

they draw their custom works in needled plait,

these hags intent on what’s in hand,

and hushed in awe of what’s at hand,

they huddle, each to each,

all cloaked in drab and drear,

their plainest miens

betray the luminous welling of their keenest joy,

and one of them, in blooming,

swells the hearts of all.

 

A spark of expectation lights and lightens

the artful labor of their crabbed fingers,

grasping small things of great portent—

a tiny cap, a shawl, a swaddling robe—

for the child to be born.

 

In waiting they are ladies

bound in common by certainty

and their exaltation

in believing that the babe will be a girl—

a budding rose without a thorn.

 

January 29, 2017

My poem “Hag-seed” was published January 23, 2018, in my second collection of 47 poems, Seeing far: Selected poems. You can buy it on Amazon (paperback and Kindle), or get it free in Kindle Unlimited, search for “Richard Carl Subber”

It’s easy to remember the sauce

(my nature poem)

“Debut”

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The Reader (Der Vorleser)

Not just a rehash of WWII…

by Bernhard Schlink

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I offer my kind of thoughtful book summary above. I write a serious review about almost every book I read. You can read other reviewers to get a detailed summary of what the book offers, and to learn specifics about the characters and plot. My reflective commentary is stimulated by the contents and the overall impact of the book, be it a love story or a history or a treatise or classic literature… Generally, I don’t have to post a spoiler alert. I’ll tell you about aspects of the book—the good, the bad, and the ugly—that make it exceptional. I’ll give you something to think about.

Your comments on my poems, book reviews and other posts are welcome.

Book review. My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2018 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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How does a poem end?

How does a poem end?

“…such words, the richest fare…”

 

 

Finis

 

To make a race, I mind the end

   and where to start the race, and when.

To craft a plan, the goal is key,

the outcome must be clear to see

 

To make a poem is not a race,

and not a plan, but what I face

   is how to start—not how to end—

      and what some musing may portend…

 

Some will say it’s hard to know

   just what comes first and what fills in,

and what sings out, and what can spin,

and what must stay, and what can go.

 

The ending, though, is something rare,

a mystery while scribbles dare

   to frame the poem, with rhyming, O!

 

…and then, such words, the richest fare,

in rampant form that lets me know

   the poem is done—the end, just so—

      the marvel: how my pen gets there.

 

July 2, 2018

This is not a tutorial on writing poems.

It’s just my story about writing poems.

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My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2018 All rights reserved.

 

O. Henry’s “The Gift of the Magi”

“…two foolish children…”

click here

 

Seeing far: Selected poems with 47 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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“Whither,” a poem of wanton love…

“Whither,” a poem of wanton love…

“…yearning that has ever filled her…”

 

 

Whither

 

He the tempter, she the temptress.

 

Roles they never imagined in their separate worlds

   before they chanced to come together,

roles they accept without skill or will to play,

roles animated by the drab constraint of her clan,

and the drear, deadened danger of his career

   in thrall to loveless intrigue.

 

Quickly they see each other as woman and man,

quickly the heat is on them,

quickly they twirl in dance without dalliance,

quickly they know their plight,

awkward in their pauses,

denying the impulse to embrace.

 

At day’s end he faces her, silent,

his desire wantonly on offer,

his smile closed by fear that he will charm her

   into a love that must become a misery in his world.

She faces him and does not speak

   but offers herself with lust she cannot name

      and yearning that has ever filled her.

Her smile awaits his beckoning,

for long moments…

He lowers his eyes in despair, she turns away

   and accepts her failure with no whisper,

no waiting,

no wishing for another chance,

no words to claim him for a love

  that would wither in her world.

 

They give without taking.

They reach to each other

   across an unimagined gulf

      that sears their willing hearts,

they lean to the threshold of desire

   but they do not take the last step.

 

They part, to languish in the limits of their lives.

They learn that heart can be another way

   to spell hurt.

 

February 14, 2016

Inspired by the film Witness (1985)

My poem “Whither” was published January 23, 2018, in my second collection of 47 poems, Seeing far: Selected poems. You can buy it on Amazon (paperback and Kindle), or get it free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

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My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2018 All rights reserved.

 

We Were Soldiers Once…and Young

…too much death (book review)

Lt. Gen. Harold G. Moore (ret.)

         and Joseph L. Galloway

click here

In other words: Poems for your eyes and ears with 64 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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The moor, and more…

The moor, and more…

…a new learning…

 

 

A soft foot

 

As with another eye

   I see the moor,

its quiet folds

   that need no glance from me,

its hues of earth and sky

   so naturally disposed.

 

I step with care,

I stand long moments there

   to feel the reverence of being

      and the pleasure of my spirit

      stepping free of me

and leaving unfamiliar stillness

   in my heart

   and in my mind,

a new learning.

 

I will walk this moor again,

   and fill myself again with calming joys.

 

November 9, 2016

“A soft foot” was published January 23, 2018, in my second collection of 47 poems, Seeing far: Selected poems, now for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle), or free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

Inspired by “The Moor” by the Welsh poet R. S. Thomas (1913-2000). Thomas recounted his passage on the moor—“…I entered it on soft foot…”—when he felt a “…stillness of the heart’s passions…” I imagined a respectful conception of a quiet moor, and a quiet time of solitary exploration and a gift of harmonious perceptions. I was not disappointed. I walked the walk.

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My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2018 All rights reserved.

 
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”

The “dime novels” in the Civil War

Think “blood-and-thunder”…

click here

 

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