on this late January Poetry Friday, a picture of my own grandmother, Nadine Ellen West. and a poem from the epigraph of The Muses Among Us: Eloquent Listening and Other Pleasure of the Writer’s Craft. returning to this treasure house of a book looking for inspiration + direction as i revise.
Kinds of Writers by Kim Stafford
Emily distilling spent days
into an attar of verse. Or Basho: bamboo.
Or St. Francis, living the life that commands others
to tell his stories. Or a Bard with a mind like mossy
shelves heavy with tales. Or Anansi, spinning creation.
Rumi and Rama spinning spirit. Or Walt Whitman’s
mother, to bear such a child. Scheherazade, telling
stories for life, night by night. Or Homer, whose life-
work of two poems is enough. Or on the mountain,
singer of the Song of Songs. Yes, I prefer anonymous–
her naked, indelible call. Your own grandmother softly
putting you to sleep with a hum. Or best of all,
someone we have not yet read, someone wide-eyed,
big-hearted, listening among us now, whose fist
can barely hold a pen.
more Poetry Friday goodness can be found this week at A Teaching Life.
…and Viking paper dolls from another Nadene.
and having poems and Vikings, let us be therewith content.