I think my favorite song by Mickey Newbury is the 3/4 tempo ballad, "The Future's Not What It Used to Be"
Anyway, here's a reading/video of a revised poem of mine posted a few years ago:
Monday, August 31, 2020
Sunday, August 30, 2020
Rainbow Matters: the Well Lit Time
So it's morning or afternoon
and there's an invisible cone
lying prone, see, with you
at the narrow end and a curtain
of mist droplets at the wide
end. The sun's behind you,
working hard as usual, low
enough to tip the cone to
a 42 degree angle. Now
the droplets confer. They
get in prism formation so
the conical curvature in the mist
blushes variously red orange
yellow green blue indigo violet.
At this crucial juncture,
the mist sings to the sun,
although you can't hear
the song. But you sure
can see it, yes you're in the right
place at the well lit time.
hans ostrom 2020
After Eating at that Swiss Place
After eating at a cheap Swiss
place, you two walked
around Paris, which wants
to be walked around.
Back at the hotel, modest
except for big windows,
you got in bed and later
slept the civilized sleep of
food and wine and sex.
Woke to gray light,
to rain bothering glass.
Embraced under covers
to ward off chill. Desired
coffee. Fell back asleep,
back into the many privileges
afforded at the moment.
Noise of traffic, of work,
rose outside.
hans ostrom 2020
"Working Out," by Charles Bukowski
Reading/video of a poem by Mr. Bukowski; the poem is not about working out, I should add.
Saturday, August 29, 2020
"Time Passing, Beloved," by Donald Davie
reading/video of a poem by Donald Davie, British poet, scholar, and professor--he taught in the U.S. at Stanford and Vanderbilt:
link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hTG7Pyy5m28
Friday, August 21, 2020
the real artists
the real artists assemble mother-boards,
sports shoes, clothes, and purses.
the real art is the art
of re-assembling the world
every day.
the real artists go where
they're ordered to go when
they put on the uniform, whatever
uniform it is.
the real artists, they
change old people's diapers,
teach five-year-olds to read,
serve eggs to smirking
college students, empty
professors' trash cans,
sweep the floors
of art galleries, change
light-bulbs in auditoriums,
breast-feed, cook, clean,
get groceries, carry water,
look after grandchildren.
the real artists manage
crews, staff shifts, order
raw material, stack lumber,
run bureaus, process forms,
maintain websites, take
complaints, withstand
verbal abuse.
they mix cocktails, dance nude,
look for food in dumpsters,
rant from the caverns
of mental illness.
they protect children.
they haul freight.
they haul people.
they wash clothes.
they pick up bodies
lying on highways.
they wash corpses.
they mourn the dead,
help the maimed recover,
grieve with the bereaved.
they migrate away
from the smoking rubble
left by bombs
they keep their families
alive on a long hike
out of a country wrecked
by demonic dictators
they negotiate their way
around insane shouting racists
and people waving guns
the real artists know how
to add and subtract.
they walk or stand til
their legs and backs ache.
they show up on time and
kill vermin. they plant crops
and then wait, watching
the pale blue ceramic
sky of drought.
hans ostrom
2012/2020
And Overview of Younger African Poets
Here's a link to the Poetry Society of America's overview (with poems) of 10 younger poets from the continent of Africa (good stuff):
https://poetrysociety.org/features/in-their-own-words/ten-new-generation-african-poets
Tuesday, August 18, 2020
"Ice Hockey," by Hans Ostrom
Reading/video of my small contribution to the literature of ice hockey:
Monday, August 17, 2020
Sunday, August 16, 2020
"The Ever Patient Woman" by Andrée Chedid
Reading/video of a poem by Andrée Chedid, whose given name was Andrée Saab Khoury. She was born in Egypt to parents whose background was Lebanese Christian and Greek (Orthodox Christian). She settled in France and became a renowned writer of prose and poetry, and among her honors was the Grand Officer of the French Legion of Honor.
Friday, August 14, 2020
"Jazzanatomy," by James Emanuel
A poem by poet, scholar, and professor James Emanuel (1921-2013). Reading/video:
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