May Swenson is a beloved poet claimed by Cache Valley, and is lauded as one of the most important poets of the 20th Century.
Kiwi by May Swenson
Fruit without a stone, its shiny
pulp is clear green. Inside, tiny
black microdot seeds. Skin
the color of khakiImagine
a shaggy brown-green pelt
that feels like felt.
It’s oval, full-rounded, kind
of egg-shaped. The rind
comes off in strips
when peeled with the lips.
If ripe, full of juice,
melon-sweet, yet tart as goose-
berry almost. A translucent ring
of seed dots looks something
like a coin-slice of banana. Grown
in the tropics, some stone
fruits, overlarge, are queerly
formed. A slablike pit nearly
fills the mango. I
scrape the fibrous pulp off with my
teeth. That slick round ball
in avocado (fruit without juice) we call
Plant this seedpit with care
on three toothpicks over a glass
of water. It can come to pass
in time, that you’ll see
an entire avocado tree.
Some fruits have stones, some seeds.
Papaya’s loaded with slimy black beads.
Some seem seedlesslike quince
(that makes your tastebuds wince.)
be sour, astringent ‘until
dead ripe,’ they say. Behind
pomegranate’s leathery rind,
is a sackful of moist rubies. Pear,
cantaloupe, grapefruit, guava keep their
seeds hidden, as do raspberry, strawberry,
pineapple. Plum, peach and cherry
we know as fruits with big
seedstones. And fig?
Its graininess is seed. Hard to believe
is prickly durian. It’s custard
sweetand smells nasty.
But there’s no fruit as tasty,
as odd, or as funny
as fresh-off-the-vine New Zea-
While straightening up the books the other night, I came across a book of poetry by Carol Lynn Pearson,Beginnings & Beyond. She is a marvelous poetess! Her lighthearted observations of life, death, love, and everything in between are so true that a couple of us were left standing around for awhile reading poem after poem. Here’s a funny one many of us can relate to from childhood:
Words by Carol Lynn Pearson
I wanted to know
What it felt like to swear.
So one day
Away out in the back pasture where
Two horses switched
For the big flies,
I stood on a little bridge
Took a deep breath
And said every bad word
I’d ever heard.
The horse tails switched on
And on ran the unpolluted stream.
It took about a week though
To wash and rinse
My mouth clean
And I’ve never said those words since–
Though now I’m counting
Many another word
I should have taken
To where only horses heard.
I love it when you can hear the accent of the poet through the poem. George Herbert was a Welsh-born English poet.
Easter Song by George Herbert
I Got me flowers to straw Thy way,
I got me boughs off many a tree;
But Thou wast up by break of day,
And brought’st Thy Sweets along with Thee.
The sunne arising in the East,
Though he givel ight, and the’ East perfume,
If they should offer to contest
With Thy arising, they presume.
Can there be any day but this,
Though many sunnes to shine endeavor?
We count three hundred, but we misse:
There is but one, and that one ever.
We’re a little behind on our poem posting for National Poetry Month, so here’s one to start us off by Claude McKay, a Jamaican-American writer and poet.
The Easter Flower by Claude McKay
Far from this foreign Easter damp and chilly
My soul steals to a pear-shaped plot of ground,
Where gleamed the lilac-tinted Easter lily
Soft-scented in the air for yards around;
Alone, without a hing of guardian leaf!
Just like a fragile bell of silver rime,
It burst the tomb for freedom sweet and brief
In the young pregnant year at Eastertime;
And many thought it was a sacred sign,
And some called it the resurrection flower;
And I, a pagan, worshiped at its shrine,
Yielding my heart unto its perfumed power.
Leave a Found Poetry Kit in a random place.
No kidding. This April is National Poetry Month, and The Found Poetry Review has conceived a way to get people more involved this year by dropping off poetry kits in random places (think the bus stop or the laundry mat) across the United States. The kits instruct you to write a poem using the piece of random literature in the kit, and then post it on FoundPoetryProject.com.
They gave away 500 kits for people to place, and now if you still have the hankering to leave a random kit somewhere, you need to put it together yourself. This shouldn’t be too difficult! Spread the love of creating verse in your community this month.
Go to the website below for instructions to build your kit:
And start placing! Good luck.
I Am Woman; Hear Me Snore
by Martha Sears West
I was wondering how I could douse
The snoring that came from my spouse.
The kids never slept,
Except when we kept
The doors closed all over the house.
So I thought I should stay up and try
To watch him all night, as a spy.
And when they reported,
“Last night no one snorted!”
I knew that the culprit was I.
Click here to read the Herald Journal article about Logan resident and author Martha Sears West.
The word “poetry” doesn’t have to bring the image of dusty old volumes written by long-dead Englishmen who said “thy” in every sentence to mind. Local author and poet Martha Sears West is a good example of fresh new rhymes you can share with your family as you celebrate National Poetry Month.
Her poems are fresh, fun, and simple, bringing childhood favorites like Shel Silverstein to mind. Her book, Rhymes and Doodles from a Wind-Up Toy, includes rhymes that are geared mainly for children but have a reminder of the innocence of youth, guaranteed to bring a smile to the face of anyone who reads them ages 2 to 92. It also doubles as a coloring book. ForeWord Clarion Reviews gave it five stars out of five.
Title: “Rhymes and Doodles from a Wind-Up Toy
Author: Martha Sears West