Archive for September, 2013

Prize Poem

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I can announce my prize winning poem now because it’s been posted at http://sfpoetry.com/contests/13contest.html.

It won third place in the Science Fiction Poetry Association’s Dwarf Poem category.  Dwarf poems are fewer than ten lines.

You have to scroll to the very end to see it or you can read it here.

A Butterfly in Costa Rica

He is reading Wing Systems Theory
when a fly lands on the page.
Paper turns to liquid,
flows over his palms
and evaporates
in the space above his knees.

That was my favorite among the poems I submitted.  Here’s another one I submitted that I like a lot.

The Lawn Care Man Comes Today

Frog-filled lawn vibrates.

Colors shift.

Rainbows strike

like lightening bolts.

Frog-filled lawn vibrates.

 

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Friday the 13th

Seasonal flowers

Seasonal flowers

Before 9 a.m. today I received two rejection notices.  That made three for the week.  Enough already, I thought.  It’s hard not to be stung by rejection.  I know I am not alone in this.  One of the members of my poetry group talked this week about how she used to paper her walls with rejection letters.  Looking on the bright side, I thought, well, that just frees up some poems that I can send somewhere else.

It’s a beautiful September day, albeit Friday the 13th.  My husband and I headed out to a garden we had not visited before and it turned out to be a delight.  We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves and the weather.  It was lovely not to think about the “business” of poetry.  However, when I checked emails upon our return home, I discovered I had won a contest with a little poem I’d submitted … cannot say more until they publish it, but I have to say, I got really, really excited.  Yea!

Here is a rejected poem that was written for a very specific call for poems and I really cannot place it elsewhere.  But I like it.  It’s a tribute to my friend Marian who died several years ago but whom I still miss.  She was about twenty years older than me, and she was prickly and opinionated, but I enjoyed her company a great deal.  I think we each learned a lot from one another.

The title, Little Things, comes from the last line of Kahil Gibran’s poem, On Friendship:  “For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.”  The last line of Little Things comes from these lines:  “For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill? / Seek him always with hours to live.”

Little Things

You, prickly, talked in asides, critical of the speakers.

Look at the art, you said.  What do you see?  Now, look again.

You, grudging, allowed me to follow you, sticking like chewed gum.

You, rolling your eyes.  So impatient.  Never tip on the tax, you said.

You told me I was stuck up.  I told you I am reserved.

Together:

plane watching at O’Hare
making tea according to your directions
shopping for a leather foot stool
slow art at the Biedermeier exhibit.

You made me attend a party I wanted to avoid.

I taught you how to join a Yahoo Group.

Why did you think I could save your violet?

A present from you:  homemade salsa.

A present to you:  a Christmas ornament that said, “Naughty.”

We had plans for the coming week, lunch or just visiting.

I sought you always with hours to live.  I did not know how few there were.

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What’s in a Name?

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The gal who cuts my hair and I are giving one another new names.  Her name, Tia, is actually perfect for her, but mine is boring beyond belief, so I am very happy to be considering new possibilities.  When I mentioned this to my poetry group, one of the women said she changed her first name when she re-married and her “new” husband of now 25 years still calls her by the new name.  Others in the group admitted they had changed their names, too:  a little, a lot, previously, now.

My last name changed, twice, because I changed it both times I married.  I kept my married name from my first marriage until I re-married.  So from age 26 when I got divorced to age 39 I was using someone else’s name.  When I married my current husband I changed my name to his, which was kind of a joke because he was adopted and the name didn’t really belong to him, either.  We were a good match!

I didn’t change my name in part because I did not like my maiden name.  My married name was nothing special at all, but I had used it at work for ten years and people called me by my last name.  I don’t recall why…I was a supervisor and I guess my “subordinates” found it more appealing than using Ms. or Mrs., which would have been bogus anyway.  I was happy to get rid of it especially after I learned that there was another woman by the same first and last name who had unpaid bills, unreturned library books and various run-ins with the police and ex-boyfriends, which explained some very weird and nasty phone calls late at night.

Then three years ago, my husband and I went for flu shots and the gal checking us in had us at two different addresses.  Well, not yet, I said.  So I learned there is another Mary R. with a very similar birth date.  Now  I always double check the address whenever I deal with that clinic.

My husband’s initials are RLR, our cat is Rio and when we married, I thought I should change my first name to an R as well:  Renata, perhaps, or Rita.  Actually, I kind of like my current initials:  MCR.  Like McR, the Irish poet.  Ha.

So, I named Tia “Sidney Louisa.”  I like how that sounds, but when I told my husband, he said, you mean like Sid?  Isn’t that a guy’s name?

Tia named me “Claudette Amalie.”  Very French; very pretty.  She said that Claudette sounds sophisticated.   Or mature.

I going to see Tia next week and I am working on an Italian name for her.  Here are some names I picked that I like and what they mean:

Chiara – clear, bright

Elena – from Greek H elena, meaning torch

Felisa – happy, lucky

Luisa  – famous warrior

Natale – Italian form of Latin Natalia, meaning birthday

Noemi – my delight, my pleasantness

Milana/Maria Elena

Simona – harkening

Violetta – violet

My choice:  Chiara Elena.  The Ch is pronounced like K.  It sounds sexy to me and a little musical, almost poetic.   H’mmm…maybe it should be mine.

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