Chipmunk talk…

Chipmunk talk…

he stares at me, no fear…

 

 

Busy

 

The chippie halts on the second step.

I’ve seen him there, he will not stay,

his hole is close, he will not stray,

he skips across my little yard

   but not too far.

 

I want to ask him, just this once,

if he’d like to scout a cozy place

   he’s never seen,

he stares at me, no fear,

I’d like a little chat, I think,

I’d like to hear his thoughts,

but I can see

   he has no time to talk.

 

October 23, 2019

Inspired by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer’s “Following Mr. Berry’s Instructions,”

published October 23, 2019, on her website, A Hundred Falling Veils

 

“You have to be able to imagine lives that aren’t yours.”

Wendell Berry

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My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2023 All rights reserved.

 

84, Charing Cross Road (book review)

Helene Hanff, on reading good books…

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”

 

Your comments are welcome—tell me what you’re thinking.

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“I forgot to get a card…”…a love poem

“I forgot to get a card…”…a love poem

a short time to be in love…

 

 

I forgot to get a card…

 

It’s not about the candles and the cake,

it’s not about singing

   the same old song anymore,

it’s not about the date anymore,

not an event,

not a stopping place—

it’s another reminder that a year

   is a long time to live,

and a short time to be in love,

it’s a marker on the trail,

and the trail is rising,

and the mountains are behind us,

and the oceans, yes, and many mysteries…

 

Just ahead, the path turns again, as always,

and we do not see much of the morrow,

and naught of the waiting tomorrows,

but we see the coming of our latter days,

and we can sing yesterday’s songs

   at each new dawn,

and sing them again and again and again,

and add new words at each new sunset…

 

May 8, 2017

I confess, I didn’t forget to get a card—I couldn’t find a card that I wanted to give. You can guess whose birthday I was celebrating. I decided to write a birthday poem that doesn’t actually mention “birthday” and skips all the smarmy stuff and doesn’t bother with the “you’re only as old as you feel” stuff and the “omigawd, how many candles are on your cake?” stuff. A birthday is a day in our lives. We celebrate our lives together. Every day.

My poem “I forgot to get a card…” was published in my fifth collection of 53 poems, My first name was rain: A dreamery of poems. You can buy it on Amazon (paperback and Kindle), or get it free in Kindle Unlimited (search for “Richard Carl Subber”).

*   *   *   *   *   *

My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2023 All rights reserved.

 

A poet is a “maker”

…and it doesn’t have to rhyme…

click here

many waters: more poems with 53 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”

 

Your comments are welcome—tell me what you’re thinking.

*   *   *   *   *   *

“…the frosted flowing stream…” (“The water way,” poem)

“…the frosted flowing stream…” (“The water way,” poem)

…makes the fairy filigrees…

 

 

The water way

 

The vaulted glen preserves the cold calm,

enwraps the stillness,

enfolds the shrouded bowers,

hushes the tiny creatures

   that do not sleep,

and graces the febrile stream

   that ice cannot subdue,

the frosted flowing stream

   that falls from freckled rock

      to ledge to pool,

and foams awhile,

and pauses, turns,

and makes the fairy filigrees

   that hang in air,

and finds its familiar course

   in channels that defy

      the glaze of winter.

 

September 7, 2019

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My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2022 All rights reserved.

 

Book review: Shawshank Redemption

This is a world I do not want to know…

by Stephen King

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”

 

Your comments are welcome—tell me what you’re thinking.

*   *   *   *   *   *

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”)

*   *   *   *   *   *

Book review. 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”

*   *   *   *   *   *

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Thoughtful book reviews by Rick 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.

*   *   *   *   *   *

…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”

click here

 

The Reader (Der Vorleser)

Not just a rehash of WWII…

by Bernhard Schlink

click here

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 52 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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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 really is not a tutorial on writing poems.

It’s just a story about writing poems.

*   *   *   *   *   *

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

 

My first name was rain: A dreamery of poems with 52 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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