West Florida Literary Foundation Poetry Challenge

Today, I wrote my 28th poem for the WFLF Poetry Challenge. Since Sept. 17, I've written two poems a day from the challenge. Some are garbage; some have promise.  I've enjoyed writing all of them (Well, except for the second villanelle.  Who needs to write two villanelles in a single month?)

In graduate school and before Connor was born, I kept the practice of writing a poem a day.  I wrote a lot of terrible poems, but the joy and discipline of daily working with words nourished me, and all of my writing improved from the daily practice.  I had to explore new forms. I had to pay attention to the world.  I had to learn to play.

WFLF hosted the first poetry readings I ever attended, so writing poems for this challenge was a coming home of sorts. They are still fresh, and they need much work in all the ways that poems need work: syntax, rhythm, word choice, theme, line breaks, figurative language, etc. But I've rediscovered a practice that makes every day better.

Here is the poem from Day 15.

Fall Away

I raise my right hand overhead, place the tip of my thumb on my index finger

jnana, binding my self with the soul of the world.

I raise my left hand, shoulder level, palm out, varada,

my open hand a gesture of forgiveness.

My left hand says there is much work to do; my right, I cannot do this alone.

Forgiveness is the work of fall.  The brittle limbs and fading leaves I’ve held close

long to fall away, to nourish the soil for next year’s growth.

I might have shed them in spring,

but I waited to see if they would blossom.

In summer, new leaves and bursting blooms hid them.

Now, I can feel into the places

where wounds I’ve held seek release.

I let the wind move me.

Gravity adds her tug,

and the branches, dead and hollow in their core,

pull away.  Somewhere on the end
of the limbs I’m letting go, there is a seed. 

Read more about the WFLF Poem a Day for September Challenge here.  Thanks to Elizabeth Cantonwine Schmidt for telling me about this challenge.




As always, words and images on this blog copyright Lori Gravley-Novello, 2013 & 2014.  Use only with written permission of the artist/author.

Paris History: Maison d'Ourscamp

This lovely building in the Marais is home to a non-profit corporation that was formed in 1963 and was responsible for saving the Marais when the city of Paris planned to raze the district and carry out Le Corbusier’s monumental plan. 

I love Corbusier, but I’m so glad that Parisians joined to save both this building and many other in the Marais. The organization is staffed by volunteers who are knowledgeable and friendly. Some even speak better than passable English.

You’ll find an architectural gem here as you go up the stairs, noting both the staircase and the center timber of a staircase donated to them by someone restoring their home.   My guide told me that she had seen a complete staircase similar to this one n the Victoria and Albert museum in London. There are many recycled things here, Parisian homeowners donate items of historical and architectural interest, and Paris Historique uses them in its restorations.

The real treat here, though, is the cellar.  This former Cistercian abbey has a cellar that is slowly being restored by the students of the local school Compagnons du Devoir and others.  The ceiling is vaulted, the old well is visible, and there are many items of interest here including the metal bands used to support columns that began to crumble as the upstairs building got bigger and heavier in the 16th century. 

Also, behind a gate you won’t be able to go through, there are passageways into other cellars. My guide, Esther, told me that it’s possible that many abbeys in the area were linked by underground passageways. 

Finally, the bookshop is stocked with items about Paris History.  I found a map I had been searching for for years here, and though I paid a pretty penny and had to struggle to get it home in good form, the map itself was worth the trip for me.  The organization is run by volunteers and by donations. You can find out more about their work at the Paris Historique website Paris Historique.

Hanging Words in Air

Elizabeth Bishop used to hang her poems up around the house and read them as she passed by in order to get new eyes for revision.  

Robert Lowell wrote a poem for her that describes her practice:

Do

you still hang your words in air, ten years

unfinished, glued to your notice board, with gaps

or empties for the unimaginable phrase—

unerring muse who makes the casual perfect?

The wonderful find of a huge chalkboard with metal backing on the Yellow Springs garage sale page (thanks, Miracle), led to this adaptation of the practice. I may not have Bishop's talent or patience, but I'm looking forward to finding ways to make "the casual perfect."

Here's to seeing with new eyes.

Fall

A gift in the path

yellow leaf dotted with dew

autumn’s first message.

I've continued the practice of writing haiku every day so far this month, and many days, the haiku link up to the images on my Instagram account (@lorigravley). I appreciate how the practice (the poems and posting to Instagram) invites me to pay attention.

Paris History: Wall of Philippe Auguste

When I imagined the wall of Philippe Auguste, I imagined something about the height of a garden wall.  I should have listened to Mrs. Hackett in 6th grade when she told us we would all need to know the metric system someday. I had read that the wall was so and so meters tall, but since I can’t easily convert meters to feet, I ignored the measurement and continued to picture a wall maybe ten feet tall.

After a lovely walk through the native plant gardens at Arena Lutece (the ancient Roman arena uncovered under the city of Paris), I made my way up the Rue Rollin, on to Rue du Cardinal Lemoine and then to 12 Rue Clovis and the large section of the wall visible on the left bank. There is a small plaque, as there are throughout Paris, next to the enceinte that gives the history.  In this case, the wall, three Paris stories high, has been used to support the adjoining building.  A smart engineer or architect incorporated the thick, ancient wall into the design for the attached building just as the architects during Philippe’s and later times used the wall for support, insulation, and defense. 

Perhaps I’d seen the wall on earlier trips to Paris, but then I hadn’t been looking for it.  It hadn’t been important for me to understand the wall and its history.  My visit, this time, was rounded about by the wall.  Searching for and finding it was a highlight of my Paris trip.

I was impressed with this first view, and seeing the portions of the wall and old towers at the Louvre moved me to tears, but by far the most impressive yet almost pedestrian discovery of the wall is on the right bank at the Village St. Paul where a long section of the wall encloses a public park.  In the photograph, you can see a child hitting a soccer ball against this nearly 1,000 year old testament to the protection of Paris. 

(Photos: Top, 12 Rue Clovis; Middle, Louvre; Bottom, Village of Saint Paul.  All Photos by Lori Gravley, please request permission to repost.)

Remington Goes on a Writing Date

For the last four years, my friend Debra and I have been writing at the Emporium on Sunday mornings.  Over time, we've been joined by two other writer friends, Jude and Becky.  During NaNoWriMo, we have even more writers join us.  Now, Debra and I are working on a project together, featuring Remington and his friend AnaMae. So this morning, Remington came to the Emporium with me for a writing date.  Remington says that the gluten-free bluberry muffins are great.  His presence is inspiring, as always. 

A Year in Words and Images

Nearly a month ago, my friend Jude told me about someone she knows who wrote a haiku a day for a year.  I took it as the challenge she meant it to be. Since then, I’ve written at least one haiku a day.

Sometimes, they don’t make it to the screen until the next day, but that’s what has been so powerful about this practice for me.

When I was completing my MFA in poetry, I drove three hours a day, back and forth to El Paso, TX from Alamogordo, NM.  I had a lot of work to do, so once papers were written, papers were graded, and the house and child were cared for, there wasn’t much time left over for poetry. 

I began to use the drive as my writing time.  I would listen to the words in my head, refining them, saying them aloud, changing words, counting beats, and when I arrived at school or home, I would commit the words to paper.

Writing haiku is a perfect compliment to walking.  The beats and my steps become one.  I can discard words, challenge my vocabulary, and just stay present on the walk to what’s happening around me as I walk.  I can write as I move.

This practice might take me further out of the moment I’m in. I try to remain attentive to that possibility, but so far I’ve noticed that I’m more present.  I feel the tap of my shoes on the ground as a metronome to my words.  I’m mindful of what’s happening around me.  Anything can start the poem, anything might help build it. 

Thank you, Jude, for challenging me to this new practice.  I’m looking forward to the next eleven months.
 

Here are a couple haiku from the past month.  The one from 1 Sept. is a double haiku.

19 August 2014

Will you abandon

reason, bite into the peach

with only your teeth?

1 Sep 2014

The plane lands, a thud

A white haired woman crosses

herself, a small cross

once, and then again,

hidden, as if gratitude

were cause for shame

9 Sept. 2014

Sometimes a new path

beckons you, tangles your feet.

Lost is the only way home.

A note on structure: the haiku form is three lines with the syllable counts 5/7/5.  The traditional haiku contains a kireji or cutting word that separates the first half of the poem from the second half of the poem (I think of it as the same thing as a volta in the sonnet, it’s a word or a turn that connects to but deepens the earlier words) and a kigo or seasonal reference.  

Remington

I have a friend who isn't on social media.  She was so joyful about my Remington post, I told her I would share more pictures of our journeys in the garden.  

Remington is a lovely companion.  He's willing to sit in silence for long periods, but as you can see, his compelling personality and great wit mean that he's a popular guest at any gathering. 

Remington or the Dangers of Working from Home

When I'm not working at my consulting job, I'm sitting at home (or at the Emporium in Yellow Springs, Ohio), working on the latest novel, poem, blog post, etc.  One day, I looked over at the typewriting sitting on my shelf and thought, "I bet he'd like to head outside."  

Sitting alone all day can lead to anthropomorphizing objects, I'm told. 

Anyway, it was good excuse to head outside. I took my phone with me to record our little journey.  So began my series of Facebook and Instagram posts with Remington. You can check out my social media page for more photos and follow me to see what sort of adventures he finds in the future.

For now, I'm sitting in a hotel, and he's sitting at home waiting for my return so that we can finally take the walk to Clifton Gorge I've been promising him.