Poet's Musings

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Monday, January 31, 2011

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Light on the Hill

Today I passed "The Church of
the Light on the Hill." It was situated
in a damp hollow. "God bless," I said
silently. Later, the accountant said,
"--Provided our assumptions are correct."
I thought, "Indeed."

And they never are; or seldom.
Faith and accounting are of
the same species: hope--
a light upon a mental hill,
a light we look at from a hollow
near the river of our circumstances.

Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom

Clothing Catalogues

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Clothing Catalogues

I like to look at clothing catalogues
because the photographed models
look so glad. "This sweater makes
me very happy," says a photo of a
man. "We're both wearing hopeful
skirts," says a snapshot of two women.

Some clothes appear without models
but seem animated: arms of shirts
and blouses assert themselves.
"We won't wait for bodies to take
us traveling," says the cloth. Noble

prose describes the products:
"Traditional cashmere in contemporary
styles. Imported." Retail catalogues
are a kind of comedy in which people
marry products in the end and prices
dance with prose. You see in a good
light what's for sale, gazing at
things you think might improve you.

Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom

Prose to Verse--Yoga Poem

In poetry-class today, we looked at a variety of short lyric-poems, discussed a few, and then did some writing. One of several options for writing was to take the advice Robert Frost apparently gave Edward Thomas, which was to describe in prose some occurrence or observation and then--gradually or not--begin to turn the writing into verse. One result is the plain-spoken, understated lyricism we find in Frost, Thomas, Larkin, and others.

I almost always write when students write, so today I chose the Frost/Thomas option and wrote a draft-poem about yoga:

Yoga Poem

When I do yoga,
yoga does me.
I'm supposed to
practice easily,

but I don't breathe
occasionally.
Silly, I know.
Yoga does me.

Afterward, I
do feel good--
more like
flesh than wood.

More of yoga,
less of me:
that may be
one yoga-key.

Not quite up to the standards of "Dust of Snow" (Frost) and "Adelstrop" (Thomas), which we read, but it's a start.

Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom