“Blue is the closest color to truth.” ~ Steven Tyler
Please help yourself to some blueberry cake.
Hello, Friends. Hope you had a good summer!
We’re celebrating Alphabet Soup’s 17th Blogiversary and happy to be back in this space to serve up our usual mischief and merrymaking. 🙂
“Kamala Harris” by Ashley Longshore (acrylic on canvas, 2020).
Are you feeling more hopeful, optimistic and energized about the upcoming election? While I’m mostly thinking about the color 💙 BLUE 💙 these days, Richard Jones’s captivating abecedarian list poem has me considering other colors of the visual spectrum in entirely new ways.
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“Cornflower Field” by Marina Urchukina (acrylic on canvas, 2018).
THE NOMENCLATURE OF COLOR by Richard Jones
Absinthe green: Laura’s eyes. Bishop’s purple: Evening skies. Cornflower blue: Dreams of the wise. Dragon’s-blood red: My mother’s sighs. Elephant’s breath: Imagination. Forget-me-not blue: The dust of cremation. Guinea green: Ruination. Hessian brown: The dust of creation. Iron gray: The paradox of clouds. Jade green: The bride’s necklace. Kingfisher blue: Justice and grace. Lavender gray: A widow’s shroud. Medici blue: The heart that is jealous. Nile blue: The color of water. Onionskin pink: A poem for my daughter. Pearl gray: The wedding gift. Quaker drab: The virtue of thrift. Raw sienna: The dirt that we sift. Seafoam green: The rowboat adrift. Tyrian rose: The color of love. Ultramarine blue: Heaven above. Venetian pink: Hell below. Wedgewood blue: The little we know. Xanthine orange: The taste of life. Yvette violet: The lips of my wife. Zinc orange, zinc blue, zinc white: The color of houses in paradise.
With the Summer Solstice sliding in next week, thought I’d share a couple of juicy poems from Barbara Crooker’s latest book, Slow Wreckage (Grayson Books, 2024).
“Velvet Cherries in Crystal” by Tanya Hamilton.
Though her central theme for this collection is aging, loss and grief (her poems will especially resonate with baby boomers), she balances the inevitable with hope and gratitude for those luminous moments of clarity and startling beauty that occur when we take the time to be fully present.
“Still Life with Raspberries in a Basket” by William Hammer (1863).
There are upsides to being ‘of a ripe old age’ — not the least of which is being able to enjoy summer’s generous bounty of sweet, juicy, sun-ripened fruit.
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“Red and Black Plums” by Robert Papp
PLUM
Thumbprint of the moon,
blush of the summer sky.
A rim of sweetness
hemmed in damask.
Bruise-blue, ruby red,
autumn gold; the full
spectrum of sugar.
The thrum of a tenor sax.
You brood on the tree,
biding your time.
If we're lucky, we'll
find you whole, oval,
unstung by wasps,
ungnawed by squirrels.
You will fill
a child's palm.
Hot juice
of an August night,
a gulp of dark wine.
A taste
that winter,
which we know
is coming,
cannot erase.
Barbara:“Plum” came from both our terrible plum crop (we planted a little orchard when my husband retired (2 apples, 2 pears, 2 plums, 2 peaches)) and from the organic plums I bought at a local farm stand (Eagle Point). So it’s a combination love poem to the fruit and also to the luscious “um” sounds I sprinkled throughout (including, or especially, summer) . . .
“Should you wish to be in heaven forever? Be a friend to everyone.” ~ Rumi
Can meeting the right friend change your life? Why is it important to share your story with others, and how is embracing everyone in love and friendship its own spiritual practice?
Whether through his relatable aphorisms or divine poetry, Rumi has touched us all. As one of the world’s most popular poets, this 13th century Persian scholar and Sufi mystic continues to teach, inspire, and open our hearts to humanity.
In her stunning picture book biography, Rumi: Poet of Joy and Love (NorthSouth Books, 2024), Iranian-American author-illustrator Rashin Kheiriyeh shows how a chance meeting with a stranger transformed an already revered scholar and theologian into a poet for the ages.
We first learn Rumi was born on “a crisp and colorful autumn day in Iran” (present day Afghanistan) on September 30, 1207. From the beginning he was a child of nature and reveled in the beautiful world around him. He chased butterflies and “delighted in the scent of roses and the songs of the birds.” Rumi especially loved to feed the birds; his favorite was the hoopoe, the symbol of wisdom.
Rumi’s father patiently answered his many questions, teaching his son all he knew. One day he shared these prescient words: “Learn generosity from the sun. It lights the world every day and asks for nothing in return.”
An avid reader, Rumi was excited one day to meet the great Persian poet Attar, who gifted him with a copy of his epic poem, “The Conference of the Birds.” Attar advised Rumi to “read it and search for the deeper meaning. One day you will shine and illuminate the world like the sun.”
In Attar’s poem, hundreds of birds (including the hoopoe) travel many miles in search of the mythical bird Sīmurgh to serve as their king. Only thirty birds survived this arduous journey, realizing when they reached their destination that they were actually the Sīmurgh. When together, they flew as one giant bird.
Years later, after Rumi had moved to Turkey with his family, he followed in the footsteps of his father and grandfather, with followers from near and far eager to study with him.
Care to swim with the sea turtles, soar high above the earth with regal hawks, or hear wondrous tales of heroic voyagers navigating the Pacific by wind and stars?
Then join a young Hawaiian girl as she takes a magical journey around the Islands in this gorgeous new picture book, Aloha Everything by Kaylin Melia George and Mae Waite (Red Comet Press, 2024). Through the traditional storytelling dance of the hula, she learns about the history, culture, and folklore of her homeland while embracing the true meaning of “Aloha.”
We first meet little Ano one enchanted night:
In the hush of the night with the moon still aglow, a small baby was born where the koa trees grow,
where lehua blooms bright, where the mo'o give chase, where the ocean spray's kiss meets the sky's close embrace.
With her curls kapa soft, breath like breadfruit so sweet, this dear child evermore shared the island's heartbeat.
This fierce-spirited, courageous child, so swift and smart, grew in both mind and heart. She was indeed special, but still had much to learn. What did hula teach her with its generations of treasured stories and rich lore?
First, she learned how the islands were formed, and about the evolution of plants and wildlife. As “humble seeds burst to blooms,” and “rock eroded to sand . . . a world born ablaze turned to lush wonderland.” Soon creatures filled the land, sea and sky from “mauka to makai.” Clinging to a hawk’s wings, the girl surveyed all these wonders from her perch amid the clouds, while the majestic bird imparted his wisdom: “To our ‘āina be just./When we care for our earth,/then our earth cares for us.”
“I always have this imagination, something I want to use. I don’t understand the idea of leisure time.” ~ Cher Wang
“Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney” by Robert Henri (1916).
PAJAMA DAYS
by Joanna Zarkadas
Here's to pajama days,
And the people who celebrate them.
Here's to comfort over style,
Uncombed hair and faces without makeup.
Hats off to reading all day
Or binge watching the latest Netflix series.
Kudos to cold pizza for breakfast,
Or hot buttered popcorn for dinner.
Blue ribbons for long phone conversations with friends,
And lazy couch lounging by the fire.
Gold medals for forgetting about "to do" lists,
Bathrooms that need cleaning,
Or bills that need paying.
Cheers to taking a day off every now and again
Without remorse, without guilt, without judgment.
High fives to sometimes doing whatever you want,
When you want, and
Eating whatever suits your fancy,
No matter the carb count or sugar content.
Here's to pajama days,
And a round of applause for those who know they deserve them!
~ as posted at Your Daily Poem (September 7, 2023).
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“The Green Pajamas” by Leopold Gould Seyffert (1932).
Ah, I can just see it now — me in my jade green silk pajamas reclining on a chaise lounge, sipping a nice cup of darjeeling, dipping in and out of the latest Jenny Colgan novel, bossa nova music softly playing in the background. Secret husband Colin Firth (dressed in his Mr Darcy finest) drifts in at regular intervals with a tray of freshly baked French pastries. Not a care in the world, I feel thoroughly pampered.
If only.
I’m certainly in favor of “reading all day,” and know I’m adequately skilled at “lounging by the fire,” i.e., hanging around in general (years of practice). 😀 As for the pajamas, it’s kind of my daily uniform anyway. Skip cleaning the bathroom and paying bills? Count me in!
About those “long phone conversations with friends.” Um, no thank you (read about my love-hate relationship with phones here).
But it would be nice nibbling on chocolates and sipping tea while binge watching The Great British Baking Show or All Creatures Great and Small.
“Mademoiselle Mink Breakfasts in Bed” by Janet Hill.
Yet . . . could I really enjoy doing these things sans guilt and remorse? Or would I be thinking of the extra calories I can’t afford, how not fun it will be to play catch-up the following day? Will my never-ending to-do list hover in the background even as I wait for Paul Hollywood to shake a contestant’s hand? I was never a zen person, firmly believing in planning ahead, being prepared. Yep, a real stick-in-the mud.
I do think part of it is the aging thing. The older I get, the longer it takes to get simple stuff done — stuff I could whiz through twice as fast twenty years ago. So, it’s important that I keep to plan. I’ve settled on a sensible compromise: give myself small breaks throughout the day (quick YouTube fix, drown in a fave tune from my iTunes playlist, reach for a cookie, read a poem, arrange flowers).
“The Bath” by Alfred Stevens (1873).
I’m simply not capable of giving myself an entire day off, even if I can convince myself I deserve it. Call me crazy, but I’d much rather feel productive. Alternating work + play = much less guilt. 🙂
How about you?When was the last time you gave yourself an entire day off? Any advice for how to lessen the guilt?Maybe in my next life I can be ‘devil may care’ Jama. 😀
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Lovely and talented Michelle Kogan is hosting the Roundup at MoreArt4All. Be sure to zip on over to check out the full menu of poetic goodness being served up around the blogosphere this week. Have a good Memorial Day weekend!
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“Breakfast in Bed” by Miki De Goodaboom.
“I’d rather spend my leisure time doing what some people call my work and I call my fun.” ~ Jared Diamond
Jama's Alphabet Soup 