A Memory In Savannah
Salt taffy strung out,
the cobblestone street,
and the river where a girl
waves at incoming boats.
Another day lonely
and Adrian with his dimes,
lips wet and waiting
outside the sweet shop.
This is the one thing
he wants, here, riverside
where the streets end
in steep stairs to the water.
The stairs, what cliffs
we once descended
to shop this old street
and smell the salt water.
And I’m in this memory
like a brother beside him
saying, watch the boats.
Wave while you can.
I am the stones smoothed
round by his crossing
without fear for cars,
stumbling, but walking
past statues and history.
Even children know
all rivers run into the sea,
yet the sea is not full.
The ships come home.
Adrian, turn around
and see what daily returns
from the oceans between us.
--------------------------------------------
Here's another poem out of my September poetry challenge. My friend and I got together and decided to write a poem using the other's common theme. Mine is "placelessness", while his is "change in perspective between adulthood and childhood. Hence, this poem is a take on the latter topic.
To anyone who has spent time in the main parts of Savannah, bits of this scene should stick out as coming from River Street there where they have a cobblestone street, a special sweet shop, and the statue of a girl waving to the boats coming off the intracoastal waterway.
In this poem, I try to insert myself into my own memory. I have several poems already involving Adrian and in each of them he represents my childhood self with past understanding. So in this poem I am both Adrian, the child, and I am also myself looking back on this memory. What I see as important now is different from what was important then. The cobbled stones represent to me the way that time shapes us from our rough selves into more polished products. The boats, the statues, the rivers, all have a connection with time and memory – some elements come and go, others stay, but are often overlooked, and still others keep on moving endlessly onwards. Time is like an ocean between me and my former self, and yet I am constantly reminded of the past and I try to learn from it now, whereas once I took it for granted.
That is only my interpretation of this poem; as with many poems of mine, I'm not always sure of the meaning, only the feeling. When I write poetry, usually I try to recreate a feeling first, only afterwards to I begin to go back and analyze the specifics of what I actually mean by each line. If you had a different interpretation while reading this, please let me know; I'm curious what your thoughts are.
Either way, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Friday, September 13, 2013
Poetry: Walking the Dog & Paris. September, 1993 & Barefoot I Go Walking In Late Summer
Walking The Dog
He leads from our house down a tired road
trotting like the master of a thousand men.
He rushes as usual behind a crowd of maples
to sniff out canine neighbors and fowl presence.
Immediately bursting off the ground, already
the geese are in place: a perfect V formation
flying away. It is always at this hour, passing by,
when a day of my past breaks away with them:
a moment from childhood looks back at me
to the time we hid ourselves beside a lake of geese,
or last week’s pardon, as needed as cool water,
evaporates and joins the cloud of forgotten days.
I believe my dog knows it, faithful lord that he is,
and brings me back day after day to wave goodbye.
He knows which roads twist to where peace is,
and he discerns the right pace to pad on home.
And who am I to argue with intelligence?
-------------------------------------------------------
Paris. September, 1993
I remember the the hotel room as black,
except for one white bed in the corner
illuminated by a large window, the sheets
barely wrinkled where I had left them.
I was five and the others were sleeping
somewhere in their own memory.
The window, like an ivory roman pillar,
reached from ceiling to ground, set apart
from the vast blackness of the carpet
and into the wall enough for a child to hide
and press his face against the outside.
I watched lights shift green, orange, then red.
Small cars stopped and the walkers walked.
I became rapt with rumbles of engines waiting
and the vision of strangers of the world
crossing the street towards a lighted balustrade.
The city’s buildings glowed against the black
and white that shaped our hotel room.
And I was larger than them all. At that moment,
I knew peace within that tall window, insomnia
driven by wonder, and transcendence behind glass.
I witnessed motion, seeing lights change green.
I felt my body and spirit grow inches in the dark
as my eyes became older, awake and aware.
-------------------------------------------------------
Barefoot, I Go Walking In Late Summer
Out of the door, I enter the dust of day.
Each morning, I go sweeping with the wind
and no footsteps are left from before,
the pavement rough as my father’s cheeks.
Each morning, I go sweeping with the wind:
toes warm against the sunburned concrete,
the pavement rough as my father’s cheeks,
I am one of many passing by, a cat, a leaf.
Toes warm against the sunburned concrete,
my soles press pine needles and gray pebbles.
I am one of many passing by, a cat, a leaf,
a king, a caveman; I do not know just what I am.
My soles press pine needles and gray pebbles.
The crepe myrtle’s blossoms are cast at my feet,
a king, a caveman; I do not know just what I am.
I go on walking and feel power in my steps.
The crepe myrtle’s blossoms are cast at my feet
like a victory blessing, given me by God.
I go on walking and feel power in my steps.
Wet grass brushes my skin. It washes me clean
like a victory blessing, given me by God.
I am a changed man. In the morning light
wet grass brushes my skin. It washes me clean.
I return through summer seeds scattering my path.
I am a changed man in the morning light
and no footsteps are left from before.
I return through summer seeds scattering my path
in through the door; I leave the dust of day.
He leads from our house down a tired road
trotting like the master of a thousand men.
He rushes as usual behind a crowd of maples
to sniff out canine neighbors and fowl presence.
Immediately bursting off the ground, already
the geese are in place: a perfect V formation
flying away. It is always at this hour, passing by,
when a day of my past breaks away with them:
a moment from childhood looks back at me
to the time we hid ourselves beside a lake of geese,
or last week’s pardon, as needed as cool water,
evaporates and joins the cloud of forgotten days.
I believe my dog knows it, faithful lord that he is,
and brings me back day after day to wave goodbye.
He knows which roads twist to where peace is,
and he discerns the right pace to pad on home.
And who am I to argue with intelligence?
-------------------------------------------------------
Paris. September, 1993
I remember the the hotel room as black,
except for one white bed in the corner
illuminated by a large window, the sheets
barely wrinkled where I had left them.
I was five and the others were sleeping
somewhere in their own memory.
The window, like an ivory roman pillar,
reached from ceiling to ground, set apart
from the vast blackness of the carpet
and into the wall enough for a child to hide
and press his face against the outside.
I watched lights shift green, orange, then red.
Small cars stopped and the walkers walked.
I became rapt with rumbles of engines waiting
and the vision of strangers of the world
crossing the street towards a lighted balustrade.
The city’s buildings glowed against the black
and white that shaped our hotel room.
And I was larger than them all. At that moment,
I knew peace within that tall window, insomnia
driven by wonder, and transcendence behind glass.
I witnessed motion, seeing lights change green.
I felt my body and spirit grow inches in the dark
as my eyes became older, awake and aware.
-------------------------------------------------------
Barefoot, I Go Walking In Late Summer
Out of the door, I enter the dust of day.
Each morning, I go sweeping with the wind
and no footsteps are left from before,
the pavement rough as my father’s cheeks.
Each morning, I go sweeping with the wind:
toes warm against the sunburned concrete,
the pavement rough as my father’s cheeks,
I am one of many passing by, a cat, a leaf.
Toes warm against the sunburned concrete,
my soles press pine needles and gray pebbles.
I am one of many passing by, a cat, a leaf,
a king, a caveman; I do not know just what I am.
My soles press pine needles and gray pebbles.
The crepe myrtle’s blossoms are cast at my feet,
a king, a caveman; I do not know just what I am.
I go on walking and feel power in my steps.
The crepe myrtle’s blossoms are cast at my feet
like a victory blessing, given me by God.
I go on walking and feel power in my steps.
Wet grass brushes my skin. It washes me clean
like a victory blessing, given me by God.
I am a changed man. In the morning light
wet grass brushes my skin. It washes me clean.
I return through summer seeds scattering my path.
I am a changed man in the morning light
and no footsteps are left from before.
I return through summer seeds scattering my path
in through the door; I leave the dust of day.
--------------------------------------------------------
Although I'm not quite reaching the goal my friend and I have set to write 30 poems in 30 days (I've been a little too busy teaching school for that), I have enjoyed the poems that have come out of what I have done. I enjoy writing pantoums as of late because I find power in its form. Part of what inspired these poems in general is the poem "Pantoum of the Great Depression" which uses end-stopped lines to great effect. Each line seems to hold its own.
Normally, I have commentary about my poetry and what inspired them etc., but it all honesty, I feel these poems are pretty self explanatory. The first was inspired by someone walking a dog and geese flying by. The second is a revision of a poem about a real memory I have about Paris. And the third and final poem was inspired today as I took a walk outside barefoot. Perhaps the ideas are slightly more complex, but nor do I think these poems are that obtuse either.
I hope you enjoy the poems!
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Poetry: The Mythic Forest; An Announcement of War
Two poems to kick off the month of September. Enjoy!
----
The Mythic Forest
At night, when light snags
the underbelly of ancient trees, once dark
like shrouded giants and whales–
light that grasps at straight lines
from car lamps driving home
through familiar country,
light that pulses like lungs
from a lantern in the black forest
of a deep backyard–
when light nails the unexpected,
a vast wild field or a large shadow
like a dragon above us,
we must feel it catch and suddenly
it pulls us close together,
out of our vague dreams,
into a wilderness stirring with myths;
a world free of our petty fears, it entices us
closer to the mystery of a presence
brooding over us; each moment
new shadows above shake loose
as leaves become scales, glistening
in our memory – mute flames
like angels who on the pathway home
stand guardian, night after night.
----
An Announcement of War
Through one cloud, two,
like a satellite passing,
a missile flew
and I was flying
like a satellite passing
through cavernous thoughts.
And I was flying
and twisting knots.
Through cavernous thoughts,
the truth (so dark) was calling.
And twisting knots,
I kept from falling.
The truth (so dark) was calling
at this late hour from a friend.
I kept from falling
to pieces on my end.
At this late hour (from a friend),
I knew and did not wish it so
to pieces. On my end,
my mind went hollow.
I knew and did not wish it. So
I entrenched myself here;
my mind went hollow,
a soldier struck by fear.
I entrenched myself here
on the couch, pretending,
a soldier struck by fear.
What was I defending?
On the couch, pretending,
through one cloud, two,
(What was I defending?)
a missile flew.
----
The first of these poems deals with how an encounter with the seemingly supernatural or unexpected and draw us closer, not only to each other, but also to a belief in things not seen. It is when we are confronted by events we cannot explain, or that feel out of the ordinary, do we begin to forget our doubts and believe in ways we didn't before. The poem itself was inspired by something simple – noticing how the headlights of cars also light up, for a moment, the trees directly above them. From that, I got to thinking about the giant shadows watching over us, so often unnoticed, but there nonetheless.
The second poem is a pantoum – a type of poem that is marked by it's repetition that changes slightly in meaning over time. Like the villanelle, it evokes a moment stuck in time. This moment of the poem never happened to me; I started writing with two questions in mind – How does war affect people? How do I view war? I'm not sure I arrived at the answer to either of those questions here, but I felt like I ended up recreating, in part, the thoughts of someone confused and detached from war. Few people desire war and bloodshed, but few also have any idea what to do about it. The "war" in this poem may be a real war, and it may be instead an argument between two people unresolved. Either way, such confrontations can leave us dumbfounded and unable to articulate our thoughts. That being said, I hope the poem itself wasn't confusing, but it is a first draft.
Any and all comments are much appreciated. Thanks for reading.
Monday, September 2, 2013
Review: Speaker for the Dead (And Why It May Never Be A Movie)
Speaker for the Dead
Orson Scott Card
A couple weeks ago I reread and reviewed Ender's Game, suddenly popular again due to the forthcoming movie. When it came out, it received both the Hugo Award and the Nebula Award (high praise for sci-fi novels). The following year, Speaker for the Dead, the sequel to Ender's Game achieved the same thing. Many top 100 sci-fi lists have Speaker for the Dead listed around 27th, not as impressive as Ender's Game, but still very impressive nonetheless. Ender's Game, whether it's great or barely mediocre is sure to make a lot of money, so why shouldn't they turn around and turn Speaker for the Dead into a movie too? First I'll review the book and then, if it isn't clear already, I'll spell out why this would never make a great movie in today's society.
The story starts off on the world Lusitania 3000 years after Ender's Game. Ender and what he did has gone down in history and so, when a new race is discovered on this planet, the Starways Congress is quick to make sure that nothing bad can ever happen to them and that their study is severely limited. But then the new race, often referred to as the piggies for their porcine appearance, kills one of the xenologists who had been studying them. Ender, still alive on a planet not too far away, hears what has happened and takes the call to speak the man's life as a Speaker for the Dead, someone who tells the truth of a man's life, not just what he did, but what he hoped to do - the good and the bad, the whole story. But doing so will reveal many secrets that others don't want to be heard. In addition, understanding the man's death will cause him to break all the rules surrounding the piggies and set off a chain of events that could lead to the planet's destruction.
I hope that sounds complicated to you, because it is. Speaker for the Dead, unlike it's prequel, is high science fiction, meaning that it introduces terms and concepts that most people don't understand without reading it. It can make a book harder to get into, but it can also make it more thought provoking at the same time. Of the high science fiction novels I've read, Speaker for the Dead is relatively easy to read, but you still have to enjoy several non-blockbuster things first including science (duh), philosophy, ethics, history, language, psychology, politics, and imagination. I love, or at least don't mind, all of those and so I am willing, even happy, to read through the various chapters in order to reach all the amazing moments throughout the book. Card's ability to have created this story is incredible and I take joy in learning about what he has created and the implications for my own life that are a part of being an active reader of literature.
As with Ender's Game, Speaker for the Dead confronts us on many levels of out own thinking to consider new truths that we may be uncomfortable with. How do we realistically perceive others who do not seem to be like us? How does a family fall apart? How does true healing occur?
As with other books in the series, I have read this book around 7 times now and will continue to read it. There is a reason that is book is so beloved by many and I invite you to discover it for yourself. That being said, if you go into this book expecting Ender's Game, you will be surprised.
And speaking of Ender's Game, I thought I would do a follow up to my article about it where I give my prediction on the upcoming movie. The following are the reasons why I believe that, if a sequel is done to the Ender's Game movie, it will not be it's actual sequel, Speaker for the Dead (I do have an opinion on what they should do, but I will explain that at the same time as my review of that book):
1. High Science Fiction Rarely Sells Well To A Popular Crowd
As previously explained, High Science Fiction is very technical – part of the reason that they are popular is that they have discovered a niche audience of nerds who love science, philosophy, ethics, history, language, psychology, politics, imagination, etc. High Science Fiction was never meant to be mainstream. Usually the ideas are strange, if alluring in their oddity, and they often make use of technology to create uncomfortable situations and dilemmas. Often moral dilemmas can work in films, sometimes even a little new technology, but philosophical conversations are usually lost on the crowds.. Speaker for the Dead has too much of all three, I believe, for the standard audience. When we see a sequel to a movie, we are usually looking for the same type of movie and Speaker for the Dead would not fit.
(for the differences between what I consider High Science Fiction and Low Science Fiction, ask me)
2. There Are Too Many Inner Conversations and Thought Processes.
As with Ender's Game, it's not just what people do, but why they do them. This is shown by thoughts and thoughts with non-visible characters (read the book and that makes sense). Movies, for good reason, rarely opt to do those sorts of things.
3. The Series Goes On To Harder To Do Books
Speaker for the Dead ends in a major cliff-hanger which doesn't get resolved until two books later. For most movies, this is a good thing because it means more movies and more revenue. In this case it means delving into movies that are even more difficult to put in movie form - split narratives, more complicated science, philosophy, and politics. I've always known this ever since I read the series. Also, due to plot complications, it would require some crazy actor hiring and changing. Already in Speaker for the Dead it would be near impossible to hire any of the same actors and it would only get more difficult as the series continues.
4. Tough To Show On Screen
The death at the beginning of the book is pretty gruesome and a couple more happen. The piggies look a little grotesque as do the buggers. Abuse never looks pretty. Painful accidents are hard to watch. In addition to the visually unpleasant things to watch, there is little action to the movie – it is more of a drama with lots of philosophical and scientific discussions interspersed as I previously said. Within those philosophical and scientific, there are also touchy subjects talked about at length. A major plot point of the story is that Ender isn't wanted on the planet because he's an "unbeliever" and this is discussed at length. Most screenplays try to play it safe and avoid edgy topics, especially those trying to be blockbuster series.
In the end, although I might enjoy an honest attempt to make Speaker for the Dead into a movie, I can't see it happening as a follow up to the Ender's Game movie. It's not what people are expecting and it's not what major companies are likely to target as a moneymaker. But as I said before, the book is still amazing and I hope you read it, especially if you like science fiction.
Orson Scott Card
A couple weeks ago I reread and reviewed Ender's Game, suddenly popular again due to the forthcoming movie. When it came out, it received both the Hugo Award and the Nebula Award (high praise for sci-fi novels). The following year, Speaker for the Dead, the sequel to Ender's Game achieved the same thing. Many top 100 sci-fi lists have Speaker for the Dead listed around 27th, not as impressive as Ender's Game, but still very impressive nonetheless. Ender's Game, whether it's great or barely mediocre is sure to make a lot of money, so why shouldn't they turn around and turn Speaker for the Dead into a movie too? First I'll review the book and then, if it isn't clear already, I'll spell out why this would never make a great movie in today's society.
The story starts off on the world Lusitania 3000 years after Ender's Game. Ender and what he did has gone down in history and so, when a new race is discovered on this planet, the Starways Congress is quick to make sure that nothing bad can ever happen to them and that their study is severely limited. But then the new race, often referred to as the piggies for their porcine appearance, kills one of the xenologists who had been studying them. Ender, still alive on a planet not too far away, hears what has happened and takes the call to speak the man's life as a Speaker for the Dead, someone who tells the truth of a man's life, not just what he did, but what he hoped to do - the good and the bad, the whole story. But doing so will reveal many secrets that others don't want to be heard. In addition, understanding the man's death will cause him to break all the rules surrounding the piggies and set off a chain of events that could lead to the planet's destruction.
I hope that sounds complicated to you, because it is. Speaker for the Dead, unlike it's prequel, is high science fiction, meaning that it introduces terms and concepts that most people don't understand without reading it. It can make a book harder to get into, but it can also make it more thought provoking at the same time. Of the high science fiction novels I've read, Speaker for the Dead is relatively easy to read, but you still have to enjoy several non-blockbuster things first including science (duh), philosophy, ethics, history, language, psychology, politics, and imagination. I love, or at least don't mind, all of those and so I am willing, even happy, to read through the various chapters in order to reach all the amazing moments throughout the book. Card's ability to have created this story is incredible and I take joy in learning about what he has created and the implications for my own life that are a part of being an active reader of literature.
As with Ender's Game, Speaker for the Dead confronts us on many levels of out own thinking to consider new truths that we may be uncomfortable with. How do we realistically perceive others who do not seem to be like us? How does a family fall apart? How does true healing occur?
As with other books in the series, I have read this book around 7 times now and will continue to read it. There is a reason that is book is so beloved by many and I invite you to discover it for yourself. That being said, if you go into this book expecting Ender's Game, you will be surprised.
And speaking of Ender's Game, I thought I would do a follow up to my article about it where I give my prediction on the upcoming movie. The following are the reasons why I believe that, if a sequel is done to the Ender's Game movie, it will not be it's actual sequel, Speaker for the Dead (I do have an opinion on what they should do, but I will explain that at the same time as my review of that book):
1. High Science Fiction Rarely Sells Well To A Popular Crowd
As previously explained, High Science Fiction is very technical – part of the reason that they are popular is that they have discovered a niche audience of nerds who love science, philosophy, ethics, history, language, psychology, politics, imagination, etc. High Science Fiction was never meant to be mainstream. Usually the ideas are strange, if alluring in their oddity, and they often make use of technology to create uncomfortable situations and dilemmas. Often moral dilemmas can work in films, sometimes even a little new technology, but philosophical conversations are usually lost on the crowds.. Speaker for the Dead has too much of all three, I believe, for the standard audience. When we see a sequel to a movie, we are usually looking for the same type of movie and Speaker for the Dead would not fit.
(for the differences between what I consider High Science Fiction and Low Science Fiction, ask me)
2. There Are Too Many Inner Conversations and Thought Processes.
As with Ender's Game, it's not just what people do, but why they do them. This is shown by thoughts and thoughts with non-visible characters (read the book and that makes sense). Movies, for good reason, rarely opt to do those sorts of things.
3. The Series Goes On To Harder To Do Books
Speaker for the Dead ends in a major cliff-hanger which doesn't get resolved until two books later. For most movies, this is a good thing because it means more movies and more revenue. In this case it means delving into movies that are even more difficult to put in movie form - split narratives, more complicated science, philosophy, and politics. I've always known this ever since I read the series. Also, due to plot complications, it would require some crazy actor hiring and changing. Already in Speaker for the Dead it would be near impossible to hire any of the same actors and it would only get more difficult as the series continues.
4. Tough To Show On Screen
The death at the beginning of the book is pretty gruesome and a couple more happen. The piggies look a little grotesque as do the buggers. Abuse never looks pretty. Painful accidents are hard to watch. In addition to the visually unpleasant things to watch, there is little action to the movie – it is more of a drama with lots of philosophical and scientific discussions interspersed as I previously said. Within those philosophical and scientific, there are also touchy subjects talked about at length. A major plot point of the story is that Ender isn't wanted on the planet because he's an "unbeliever" and this is discussed at length. Most screenplays try to play it safe and avoid edgy topics, especially those trying to be blockbuster series.
In the end, although I might enjoy an honest attempt to make Speaker for the Dead into a movie, I can't see it happening as a follow up to the Ender's Game movie. It's not what people are expecting and it's not what major companies are likely to target as a moneymaker. But as I said before, the book is still amazing and I hope you read it, especially if you like science fiction.
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