Poetry Slam

Beth C. hosted again. As we entered Beth's house, we noted the freshly planted flower pots. Someone was actually overheard saying, "well look at that she is really quite the gardener" ! 

Good looking bunch of women

Sean Hill

Sean Hill, Beth's brother-in-law had a poem published in "Poetry" magazine which was the inspiration for our club meeting/poetry slam. He was emailed during the meeting and sent the above picture. He replied in non-verse but perfectly clear language that we were a good looking bunch of women and he wished he could be a fly on the wall.

We all enjoyed having the change up from the usual books; several people brought poems to read or had a favorite poem to recite. I think we were collectively surprised that we all, in fact, like poetry - something we'd never really discussed. Laurie suggested we might begin future meetings with a poem.

Food:  a wonderful seafood rissoto, an appetizer tray of jalapeno artichoke dip, and TJ's rosemary raisin crisps, potato salad with ham and kalamata olives.  Beth brought delicious cookies and more.
We polished off a couple of bottles of wine. Laurie explained her technique for making the risotto and explained "all'onda" or  the "wave" that appears on the top of a rissoto which indicates that it's done. Great culinary term.

Here's Sean's poem - we listened to him recite it, which always makes a poem come alive.  Oddly enough when Beth was a kid and for me also, it was a huge thrill for us to drive from Winnipeg to Bemidji where we would visit the mammoth statue of Paul Bunyan and his blue ox, Babe. In the poem, he contrasts the blue in Minnesota from Nordic eyes, Kestrels and the blue ox, so different than the blue-black of his family back home.  Wonderful imagery.

Beth read another of his poems from his book, Blood Ties and Brown Liquor, which we also enjoyed. Great meeting.

Here's a link to Poetry Magazine

Bemidji Blues

By Sean Hill

For Arnold Rampersad

Shadows bluing the snow, the pines’ and mine,

bear the cast of a kestrel’s blue-gray crown

I note as I find my way about this town.

Blues here more likely the Nordic-eyes kind

than the blue-black of some Black folk back home.

Here so many lakes reflect the sky’s blue dome;

some summer days skimmed-milk blue tints windblown

whitecaps. Blue’s an adjective, verb, and noun,

and the color of the world when I pine

because she’s gone leaving too much wine and time.

Blue shadows on the snow, mine and the pines’.

For a tall man, blue ox, and now me, home

is Bemidji, though the blues here around

more the cast of a kestrel’s blue-gray crown

than the blue-black of my cousins back home.

Source: Poetry (April 2012).