Poem for 1/31/13

Seen from a Window

A Window in a bare

Wall, where glass is covered with beads

Of Ice like gleaming freckles,

Obscuring my view of the world

Beyond. 

Outside are framed trees,

Unmoving, Stripped of their green

Leaf-coverings. Patches

Of dry, brown leaves still cling

Stubbornly.

Now in sight: blotches of gray-green

Lichen, hugging crooked trunks, boughs,

Small branches up to spindly finger-

Tips. Yesterday’s snow is in a tree’s arms and around

Her feet. 

A Raven alights on a branch

Near me.  His movement loosens snow.

Like a waterfall it sifts to the ground. The Raven

Dances in the tree, his beak opening, closing.

He is still. 

Past him, a mountain,

Gray and blue, touches the sky, Curving,

Partially seen. The sky floats

Beyond the web of tree branches, little

Windows.

Sudden color

Shocks gray. A flag from behind a trunk,

Shows white, blue and red unfurling. It waves

And stripes ripple while stars peek at me. It returns

To resting.

A splotch of black moves again: the Raven.

He jumps to a higher branch, wings spreading,

Snow dislodged.  He turns in circles, leaps

Into the air, flies off right and out of

The frame

Of the Window. 

Paragraph Exercise for 1/29/13

     There is a window in the bare wall at the front of the classroom.  The glass is covered with beads of ice, tiny raindrops which have frozen not long after coming to rest against the pane.  They are like gleaming freckles partially obscuring my view of the world beyond the window glass. Many trees are framed by the window, unmoving.  They are stripped of their green leaf-coverings except for the few patches of brown, dry leaves still clinging stubbornly to their branches.  Now visible are the blotches of green-gray lichen hugging their crooked trunks, their boughs, and their smaller branches right up to their spindly fingertips.  A layer of yesterday's snow still rests in their arms and around their feet.  In one of the trees nearest me, a raven alights.  His movement loosens some of the snow, causing it to fall to lower branches and to the ground like a miniature waterfall.  The raven shakes his feathers and dances in the tree as he tries to get his footing.  His beak opens and closes before he becomes still. Past the him and the trees, a gray-blue, mountain stands to touch the sky.  My view of it is flanked by trees; only part of its curving form can be seen.  The sky above the mountain can be glimpsed through the web of tree branches, as if the trees are forming windows of their own.  It is a single, blank sheet of gray.  The sun is not there. Against the dull sky, color suddenly appears. There is movement among the trees.  A flag, white, blue, and red, unfurls slowly from its hiding place behind a trunk.  It waves once, its bright stripes rippling.  Stars peek at me through the window.  Then, the flag returns to rest against its pole. Nearby, a splotch of black moves again in the trees: the raven.  Discontent with his present perch, he jumps to a higher branch, his wings spreading slightly.  Another bit of snow is dislodged and cascades to the ground.  The raven turns in circles before lifting his wings and leaping into the air.  He flies off right and out of the frame of the window.
 

Thoughts on Exercise for 1/22/13

In my “second task” poem about Peggy Clevenger, I tried to frame the stories believed about her by the Pine Barrens by having the first stanza closely mirror the last stanza.  I repeated “once” and left in "It was said" and "It was known" to cause the events about Peggy to read as if her story was a fairy-tale.  By placing the Piney’s belief about her stocking of gold at the beginning of the poem and ending with the fact that it could not be found at her death, I sought to question whether the accounts about Peggy turning herself into a rabbit and a lizard could be believed either.  

            As I was writing my “second task” poem about the blueberry packing house, I divided the paragraph into two groups.  The first covered the events happening outside; the second focused on the activity inside.  In my poem, I began with the outside and inside setting, moved on to the people in both places, and finally focused on just Charlie and the old picker at the end.  As I was writing, I noticed halfway through that my stanzas were each six lines long and decided to keep that length until the last three lines.  By placing the last three lines by themselves, I sought to highlight the importance of the old man’s action.  The “Inside-Out” at the end is meant to contrast the action of returning the tickets against the action of the stores that knock off berries to get extra pints. 

Poetry Exercise 1/22/13

Poem 1:

The Pine Barrens once had their own

Particular Witch

Pineys put salt over their doors

To discourage visits from the Witch of the Pines,

Peggy Clevenger.  It was known

She could turn herself into a rabbit,

For a dog was once seen chasing a rabbit,

And the rabbit jumped

Through the window of a house

And there – in the same instant,

In the window – stood Peggy Clevenger.

Once, a man saw a lizard and tried to kill it

By crushing it with a large rock.

The rock hit the lizard,

The lizard disappeared.  Peggy Clevenger materialized

On the spot

And smacked the man in the face.

Clevenger is a Hessian name.

Peggy lived in Pasadena,  another of the now vanished towns,

About five miles east of Mt. Misery. It was said

She had a stocking full of gold.

Her remains were found one morning

In the smoking ruins of her cabin,

But there was no trace of the gold. 

Poem 1 revised:

Once,

In one of the now vanished towns

Lived Peggy Clevenger,

Hessian, witch,

Five miles east of Mt. Misery, in Pasadena.

It was said she had a stocking

Full of gold.

The Pine Barrens called her their own

Particular witch,

Pineys put salt over their doors

To discourage visits from the Witch of the Pines,

Peggy Clevenger.  It was known

She could turn herself into a rabbit. Once,

A dog was seen chasing a rabbit.

The rabbit jumped

Through the window of a house,

And there, in the same instant,

In the window stood Peggy.

Once,

A man tried to kill a lizard by crushing it

With a large rock.

The lizard disappeared.  Peggy materialized

On the spot, and smacked the man

In the face.

In Pasadena, five miles east of Mt. Misery,

Died Peggy Clevenger,

Hessian, witch.  One morning,

Her remains were found,

In the smoking ruins of her cabin.

But of her gold, there was no trace. 

Poem 2:

We had come to a clearing

Where thousands of blueberry bushes grew. 

In the center of it

Was the packing house, a small

Low building,

With open and screenless windows on all sides.

In front of it was a schoolbus marked

“Farm Labor Transport”. The driver

Stood beside it,

A tall and amiable-looking man

With bare feet, green trousers and a T-shirt.

The end of the working day had come.

Pickers were swarming around a pump –

Old women, middle-aged men, a young girl. A line

Was waiting to use an outhouse near the pump.

Inside the packing house,

Berries half and inch thick rolled up a conveyor belt,

And into pint boxes. Charlie’s sister

Was packing the boxes. Charlie’s daughter-in-law

Was putting cellophane over them. Charlie’s son Jim

Was supervising the operation. 

Charlie picked up a pint box, in which

Berries were mounded high. With disgust

He told me some supermarket chains knock off these mounds

Of extra berries,

And put them in new boxes, getting three or four extra pints

Per twelve box tray.

At one window,

Pickers were turning in tickets of various colors.

They were given cash in return.  One picker,

Who appeared to be at least in his sixties, tapped

Charlie on the arm and showed him

A thick packet of tickets, held together

With a rubber band.

“I found these,” the man said. “They

Must have fallen out of your son’s pocket.”

He gave the packet to Charlie, who thanked him,

And counted the tickets.

Charlie said, “These tickets are worth

Seventy-five dollars.”

Poem 2 revised:

Outside,

we came to a clearing,

With blueberry bushes surrounding

Us.  The packing house, small and low,

Stood in the center,

Windows fixed in all its sides.

Inside,

Berries half an inch thick were rolling

Up a conveyor belt, into pint boxes.  Charlie’s family

did their part, packing, wrapping,

And watching boxes of blueberries,

His son, daughter in law, and sister.

Outside,

The working day had ended.  Pickers were swarming

Around a pump.  They were

Waiting in line for the outhouse nearby, turning in

Colored tickets for cash at a window,

Men, old women, a young girl. 

Inside,

With disgust Charlie picked up a pint box in which

Berries were mounted high, telling me some

stores knock off extra berries, and put them in new boxes

To get extra pints per

Twelve box tray.

Inside, one picker,

An old man, tapped Charlie on the arm and showed

A thick packet of colored tickets bound

With a rubber band.  “I found these,” he said “They

Must have fallen out of your son’s pocket.”  He gave

The tickets to Charlie, who thanked him and counted them.

Charlie said, “These tickets are worth

Seventy-five dollars.”  

Inside -Out.