Poets talk about poetry

Poets talk about poetry

…no fractured, disjoint,

       inchoate grab-bags

               of words…

 

 

“A poem…begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong,

                                 a homesickness, a lovesickness…” 

 

Robert Lee Frost  (1874-1963)

in his 1916 letter to Louis Untermeyer (1885-1977)

 

Frost and Untermeyer exchanged letters (imagine!) for almost 50 years. I’m pretty sure every single one of them involved more than 140 characters and spaces…think about it, when you’re actually scribbling, you don’t have to “write” a space…

There are, I guess, about a million or so ways, more or less, to define “poetry.” In 1827 Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834) offered his “homely definition” of poetry: “the best words in the best order.” Sometimes I think poetry is the manifestation of lust for the right words.

I have this lust in my heart.

I am a poet, a writer, a teacher, a moralist, a historian, and an unflinching student of human nature. Some things I’d rather not know, but I’m stuck with knowing them. I think a lot. I strive to express truth and give context—both rational and emotional—to reality.

I think words can be pictures, and lovely songs, and bodacious scents, and private flavors, and early morning caresses that wake each part of me, one at a time. I know some of those words, and, from time to time, I write some of them.

Here’s a final thought for consideration: Coleridge also advised (1832) that “…if every verse is not poetry, it [should be], at least, good sense.” That makes good sense to me. I have no tolerance for some poets’ work that is merely a fractured, disjoint, inchoate grab-bag of words. A largely random collection of words is not likely to be a poem. I like to read (and write) a beginning, and an end, and some really meaty sweetie stuff in the middle.

Coleridge’s 1827 definition of poetry is from Specimens of the Table Talk of the late Samuel Taylor Coleridge, written by Henry Nelson Coleridge and published in 1835.

Louis Untermeyer was an American poet, anthologist, critic, and editor. He was appointed the 14th Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress in 1961.

 

For example, read The Poetry of Robert Frost, available on Amazon

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A glimpse of the millennial dawn…

witness to the vital song of the sea…(a poem)

click here

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

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”

 

Book review: Shantung Compound

They didn’t care much

      about each other…

by Langdon Gilkey

click here

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A silent sea?

A silent sea?

…something more to say…

 

 

Listen

 

Surf sounds, chansons de mer,

the breaking rollers,

mellowed crunch of wave on wave,

the drumroll of eternal tides.                           

 

There is no silent sea, we think…

 

…consider a sheltered beach,

in the lee of a baffling sand bar,

sea-spawned shoal,

mediator for sea and shore,

muffler of the surf,

tamper of the bursting breakers,                           

damper of the singing of the sea,

guardian of truth about

   the vastly silent blue water.

 

September 16, 2015

Published:

February 2017 in my first book of poems, Writing Rainbows: Poems for Grown-Ups, available on Amazon

December 18, 2016, in The Australia Times Poetry

March 2, 2016, in Whispers

January 21, 2017, in Creative Inspirations

 

I felt the sounds of the modest surf wash up to me. I was sitting almost alone on First Encounter Beach in Eastham, Cape Cod. I happened to imagine that only the tiniest element of the ocean makes all this noise, and that nearly all of the blue water on our planet rises and falls in magnificent silence nearly all the time. I’ve been at sea only once. I don’t recall noticing this aspect of the bounding main—the social sounds of the cruise ship made it impossible to hear silence. I wasn’t thinking about the cruise as I sat on the high sand on the Cape. I was thinking that the sea may have more to say. I was listening.

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

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”

The Reader (Der Vorleser)

Not just a rehash of WWII…

by Bernhard Schlink

click here

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Rick Subber

Rick Subber

My first book of poems, Writing Rainbows, is available on Amazon.

I am a poet, a writer, an editor, a teacher, a moralist, a historian, a grandfather, and an unflinching student of human nature. I try to use the right words to create poems that have clarity and character. I do freelance editing and offer my services as a writing coach--I have repeat clients in the U.S., Australia and Italy. In my professional career I was a reporter/editor/research manager/strategic planning manager. I've been in love with my wife for 49 years.

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Puppy space

Puppy space

Some puppy space isn’t the best place…

 

A while ago I read a poem that put a golf ball in my throat.

If ever in your life you have felt love, then you have your armor that may keep you safe when you read it.

Wesley McNair writes about a puppy on a chain who cries when he strains into the collar at the periphery of his circular, desolate space:

 

“…Soon,

 when there is no grass left in it

 and he understands it is all he has,

 he will snarl and bark whenever

 he senses a threat to it.

 Who would believe this small

 sorrow could lead to such fury

 no one would ever come near him?”

 

Do you have such a puppy space in your life? Can you stop barking?

Can you bring a friend inside the circle? Can you slip the collar?

 

Poem copyright ©2010 by Wesley McNair, “The Puppy,” from Lovers of the Lost: New & Selected Poems, (David R. Godine, 2010). Posted by permission on www.PoetryFoundation.org

…and another thing:

I can tell you that the “puppy space” theme recurs in poetry, as in:

 

“…a junkyard puppy learns quickly how to dream…”

From “Luke’s Junkyard Song” by Mary Oliver

 

Mary Oliver’s intuitive lines moved me to offer my own empathic intuition about the careless degradation of a dog’s world view from inside a forgotten fence:

 

One dog’s world

 

The fence is cruel, you understand,

it stops him short

   but does not bar his gaze,

it is the edge of his patrol,

each day he takes those last steps forward

   at a random spot,

and then, again, beyond that rusting truck,

and then, again, those last stiff steps

   to another well-worn station at the fence

      that makes his junkyard a prison.

 

The fence is cruel, you understand,

its wire links hide nothing

   of the lively concourse and the duck-filled river,

the shipping docks and the tandem rail lines

   outside his world.

 

The fence tempts his eye each day

   to see a new future a few steps away,

to see another world he cannot understand.

This fence is his faux frontier,

more harsh because so near,

a lure with no reward,

a circle with no end, no beginning,

no escape…

 

He learned too soon to dream of getting through…

 

November 10, 2016

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

A poet is a “maker”

…and it doesn’t have to rhyme…

click here

​-
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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Chanson de mer

Chanson de mer

The exuberant power

         of the natural world…

 

 

Chanson de mer

 

I am the rock.

I am the island.

I am the glistening boulder at the waterline.

I am the sharp-edged, flinty fragment,

   tossed by the blue-green surge,

      scattered by the stinging wind,

         collected once, and dropped, by a child.

I am the ancient stratum exposed to the faintly salty air.

I am the blunt face of the heaved-up, broken stone,

   I am the silent witness

   to the everlasting crash and song of the sea,

      I stand against the tumbling, roiling crests that

               dash to me,

         break on me,

               climb my height,

         die at my foot,

               and rise, vaulting, surging, crashing, singing,

         to grandly break on me again, again…

         the lyric, rhythms, chords the same

               as at the last or next millennial dawn.

I am the rock. The sea endlessly sings to me.

Good. Enough.

Tarry.

Listen.

 

September 15, 2011

“Chanson de mer” is about the ocean and the coast. It is a respectful imagination of the exuberant power of the natural world around us. I think that’s the best kind of description of a poem about nature. I wrote it on a cloudy afternoon on the massive rock formation that dominates the south coast of Conanicut Island in the Narragansett Bay, Rhode Island. Jamestown, at the southern tip of the island, is the home of Beavertail State Park. I’d love to go back.

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Book review: Shawshank Redemption

A world I do not want to know…

by Stephen King

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”

 

Take a few minutes on this website to read: my poetry in free verse and 5-7-5 format—nature poems, love poems, poems about grandchildren, and a spectrum of other topics—written in a way that, I hope,  makes it possible for you to know, as precisely as possible, what’s going on in my mind and in my imagination; thoughtful book reviews that offer an  exceptional critique of the book instead of a simple book summary; examinations of history that did and didn’t happen; examples of my love affair with words; reflections on the quotations, art, and wisdom of famous and not-so-famous people, and my occasional ingenuous comments on politics and human nature.

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

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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.

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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.

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”

 

It’s easy to remember the sauce

(my nature poem)

“Debut”

click here

 

 

 

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Thoughtful book reviews by Rick 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

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”

Follow Rick on Facebook

Thoughtful book reviews by Rick Subber

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