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Staff Picks for August 2008
Hey all ye friends, fasten your seat belts while I take you on a roller coaster ride of poems, blogs, young poets et al. While the August heat blazes, I have two new hot, hot categories for you guys which will be done by our curator Rio on a regular basis. So hold on to your breath while you scroll down to read what we have got for you in here!
The first pick for this month is a poem by randy-johnson chosen by John. This is what John has to say about the poem and the poet:
"Randy is one of my favorite poets on the site. Many of his poems employ common thematic devices. His focus on elegies to contemporary pop culture icons as well as fantastical situations with modern popular figures are both greatly entertaining. Sometimes dirty, often with profound easy to miss meaning, they are always greatly entertaining. Give his work a read. His work is proof that poetry should first and foremost be enjoyed."
Cuckoo for cocoa puffs
by randy-johnson
(This is a fictional poem)
Sonny the cuckoo bird ate all of my cocoa puffs.
When I saw that the box was empty, I got rough.
He said he ate it because he loved that cocoa crunch.
I killed that damn bird and then I had him for lunch.
He'd been arrested for eating other people's cereal, he was a con.
I stuck my shotgun up that bird's butt and his ass was gone.
Some people say that shooting him was hasty.
Maybe so but that damn bird sure was tasty.
Mayo's choice for this month is a tanka by arpeggio
Mayo says:
"I realize that he has only two poems posted in the finished section but he has many many poems in the workshops. I am a huge fan of this poet. His poems make me think and wonder. They make me pause. I believe that he is one of the best if not the best haiku writers that has graced this site. Give him a read. You won't be disappointed."
bookmark
by arpeggio
between the pages
of an unmade bed
her nightie
has become
a bookmark
The first blog entry for this month is by Ash, chosen by Rio.
This is what Rio has to say on what made her choose this:
"Ash's blog entry was much more than a diary entry. It was an elegant piece of prose. With a somewhat lighthearted look at a somber topic, I was enthralled with this piece. I don't know if it is a fictional experience or not. It doesn't matter. It is an excellent piece which has made me think of chance encounters with a smile ever since I read it."
Mr. Death, to you
I believe I met Death this morning.
I stopped at the first floor convenience shop before getting in line to catch an elevator. I am not typically a coffee drinker, but some days require a jump to get started, and six cups of tea didn't sound as convenient. Mixing creamer and sweetener into a steaming cup, I watched an attractive man come through the door and stop in front of the candy bar display.
Attractive is a loose term for his appearance. He was youngish, solid in build and clean-cut. The suit he donned was of the best quality, black with the most miniscule red pinstripe and dark red, almost black stitching to accent; the shirt beneath was black -- and the tie -- and buttoned nearly to the top. He was still wearing his sunglasses but I could see, from a side view, that his lashes were long and brushed the inside of the dark lenses. His right hand gripped something, like a briefcase, but from my side of the small store, I could see only the handle. He had walked in with a look on his face that almost resembled a grimace, but as I stared at him, studying the labels of chocolate confections, his mouth began to turn into a smirk.
I forced myself back into consciousness and secured the plastic lid on my flimsy coffee cup. Turning to leave, I came around the condiment stand to see the man's shoes were a beautiful, ember-hot red. My eyes trailed up the length of his person as I stepped past him, catching his own stare as I reached his face. The smile he now wore was composed of perfectly straight, perfectly magnificent, white teeth.
"Watch your step," he said in a deep, smooth and mysteriously ominous voice. I could only giggle before I turned away in embarassment; I hurried to the elevator queue.
Stepping into the tightly packed space, my foot caught at the uneven gap between the two levels. My effort to stay upright resulted in a splash of coffee which found the cotton surface of an old man's white shirt, soaking a wide space right over his heart.
"I'm so sorry!" I whispered, a look of honest regret contorting my face. Before the elevator doors closed, I could see -- through a break in the crowd -- a briefcase and a pair of red shoes, heading toward the front entrance of the building.
The old man offered his forgiveness before departing at the 6th floor and I exited at the 8th floor without losing control of my remaining coffee. At my desk, I drank it slowly, pondering the mystery of the attractive man. Drinking the last sip, I could hear the distant cry of a siren as it navigated the busy streets in search of the front entrance to the building.
Rio's choice of poem for this month is by lordfuznut.
She says :
"When he reveals his deeper side in his work I find it truly breathtaking. I feel that he has the magical power to reach up and grab the stars and show them to the reader in their glory, revealing the mysteries of life.
This succinct piece is an example. He guides the reader with just the right amount of images to allow them to dig into themselves. This sorrowful piece begs the reader to delve into emotion as well as ponder the journey of life, and the enigma of its end."
Sad Song
by lordfuznut
good times,
always sealed
with tears
indelible memories
of time and love;
just as beautiful
as the moments shared
with others, now-
until fate
washes away
more ink
in which our
short stories
are written
RZS chooses a poem by Tony and this is what she has to say about her pick:
"I love this poem. I had the same reaction to Rumi that the God in this poem had."
God Explains The Creation of Rumi
by Tony
Sometimes a work of art
is just a work of art -- lovely
of course, even perhaps fraught
with transcendence -- but there are times
when even I hold my breath at what I've wrought.
The blue jay is a good example, at least to me;
I blended a loud scrape with a royal robe
and got something more, an elegance
with a voice of arrogant pain. Or the jellyfish
I placed in the southern ocean, the one
that learned on its own how to make clouds
by banding with its billion fellows -- never saw that coming,
thought I had the cloud thing knocked without any help
and here comes this simple thing
(not a throwaway exactly but not a strong effort --
more of a sketch really)
and it teaches me how numbers in concert
can do so much more than one simple existence
can muster. Things like that render this
worthwhile, this constant churn in me
to make and make.
When the baby came out shining,
not yet formed but ready to open his eyes
and hold the sky inside him even before he could speak,
I was not surprised -- yet. It took years for him
to find the Other that taught him how to make me
visible. I never intended that, of course, but
when it happened -- oh, that first moment
when he set down words that turned my pockets
inside out so that everyone could see what I carried
close to me, so that everyone could see the tools and trinkets
with which I adorned this world! He said a little more
and the reeds I thought were already so complete, so simple,
came alive and drew my toil up through their hollow stems
so anyone could suck the marrow of my intent
with a simple recitation -- this was it:
the God I always knew lived inside me had stepped out of me.
He was there before me, gentle hands
first making a palace of the stones underfoot,
then framing heaven anew.
I knew at last I'd never been alone,
and all the birds in the sky
and all the creepers on the land, all the trees and wind,
all the flowing monsters
of the sea, all the things I thought I'd made and let go,
were with me, in me, were me.
Here, at last, was the masterpiece
I'd always known was possible.
My blog pick for this month is by varivas
I look forward to reading her blogs cos they are always about poetry related news.
rhyme doesn't pay
I considered posting this to a forum but I'm not really looking for a discussion. I just want to state my feelings on this "on paper". And I also need a blog entry for my daily journal blog Left Wing Liberal Commie Agitator. I figured this would do double duty to post there and to start my blog here. This blog will only include poetry and writing related items. So, back to the original subject.
I am a "semi-professional poet". I qualify that and put it in quotes because I have featured many times; I have been paid to perform; I have been paid for my poetry. But I would be hard-pressed to pay for a family dinner with the total amount of money I have earned as a poet.
I belong to Artemis Rising, a hard-core critique writer's group that has questioned why I am willing to post my salable poetry freely on the internet, on both gotpoetry and FanStory. I have seen other poets here pull poetry because they may, some time in the future, have some of it published. The other members of my writer's group would agree for the most part, and I understand their concerns. But they are not mine.
To me, having my poetry read is more important than earning money for it. It thrills me when someone pops over from the got poetry Page Slams and comments on a poem. I love it when someone gives me a 10 on gotpoetry or six stars on FanStory. It means the poem is being read and appreciated. What more could a poet want in a society where "rhyme doesn't pay," or free verse either.
I would love to earn a living writing full time. But I already made one big transition a few years ago from computer programmer to classroom teacher, and I found that that move improved my poetry manyfold, giving me so may real life experiences through contact with the angst of teens. (I once told a student who said it was "an emergency" and insisted on going to the bathroom in the middle of a test that of course it was, she's a teenager, her whole life is an emergency.)
That doesn't mean I wouldn't like more of my poems published in print magazines, or even online 'zines. I am planning to submit some poems to journals this summer, and hoping to be published if not paid. If those journals want first publication rights, I'll delete the poem from both sites, but only that one poem. I'm capable of doing that one at a time. I doubt all of my poems will ever be published, but in the meantime, I'll know they are being read.
If you want to read my poems, you can find My Poems of gotpoetry or My Portfolio on FanStory.
My pick for poem this month is by greygrynn
I like greygrynn's poems a lot. I like the way he weaves 'aircraft related terms' into his poems, showing his love for flying and aircrafts. I chose this particular poem this month cos he has strayed from his usual style of writing and I loved the cosmic ending!!
Warm Blood
by greygrynn
Blood,
warms down,
room temping along,
traffic inch crawls on by.
Red smear, Strawberry Smucker,
jams down from right temple
bottom of new .38 bullet hole.
Pumps its last, behind grey-yellow sternum.
Callow ice cube melts – Pretend crystal gem
Lone Johnny Walker half gone.
Mighty run it ‘twas.
Gals and gold by the semi tractor trailer load.
Oiled black dust/stale urine/brown flecked rust.
Door glicks closed the last time.
Hope spin churns in a turquoise blender.
Prosaic stare into kind amber hued eyes,
Pulse quickens - Not one bit.
Essence – Sweet, hot, wheat-molten steel.
Finger tips brush her cardinal-red lips.
He left-over scrapes into history’s
pale, avocado-green garbage bin.
Magenta dark night, light bends ‘round what
used to be – Crab Nebulas and Red Giants.
Images roil and flicker, caught on
one poorly gaussed TV set.
fogglethorpe makes it again to the staff picks this month. His poem 'November' is Loisseau's choice for this month who says : "a love poem with a refrain. Three stanzas of easy meter that hold hands throughout the poem."
november
by fogglethorpe
Let’s find an old red brick sidewalk,
and storefront maples, stark and bare,
and images in rainwashed chalk..
In November, I’ll kiss you there.
In waking dreams on a future day,
well absent summer’s dry fanfare,
ten paces down some autumn way..
In November, I’ll kiss you there.
Amid the golden restless leaves,
which stir about with hopeful air
and light on us from crescent eaves..
In November, I’ll kiss you there.
We have natey chosing a poem this month for our staff picks. He chooses a poem by superjill.
This is what he has to say about his pick:
"It made my senses tingle a bit. It still does, every time i read it."
Haiku for Chicken Slam
by superjill
Chicken chicken cock
Chicken chicken cock cock cock
Largest cock: Natey
My choice for haiku/senryu this month is by Ramonez.
I am a great fan of his and it was difficult for me to choose from his wide range of haikus and senryus.
Israel
by Ramonez
Olives and bullets,
buses loaded with young guns -
Shalom and goodbye.
AND
Winter Evenings
by Ramonez
Steaming hot it lures
over slow hissing embers -
a pot of green tea.
And finally here are our two new introductions to this staff picks feature. I would like to thank Rio for coming up with this novel idea to showcase the works of more poets on this site. So over to Rio:
One of the strongest parts of Got Poetry is our workshops forums. The community support which can be found there is truly inspiring. Everyday, we come together to give each other exactly what we need. Whether we seek precious encouragement or the push to better ourselves, it can be found in our peers in the workshops. This fabulous tool for improving our work is only made possible by the participation of our members.
We would like to recognize the forum critics who execute the critiques which are so valuable to their peers.
The first critic of the month is Bogeyman.
Bogeyman expresses a deep look into the pieces which are in the workshops. He inquires about the intent of the poem when it is necessary, and reveals his interpretation. He gracefully ads technique to his aid and maintains an upbeat voice of encouragement.
When he helped Melly with her “A Soldier's Prayer” in the rewrite workshop, he narrowed in on specific stanzas, considering meaning as well as flow of the poem. When he chose to help Galley Poet with his “narcissistic tendencies” he considered both the ordinary reality of the scene as well as the metaphor. His help with Mayo’s “Esmin Green” was another case of precision as well displaying his insight into the perspective of the poet. He is very adept at helping the poet shape their point of view, rather than persuading them to alter it to his.
Bogeyman is the staff pick for critic of the month. We thank him for lending his sharp instincts and expertise in the forums.
Young poets
The biggest strength of Got Poetry is our community. We come from all walks of life, live in different cultures and have different lifestyles. I would like to draw particular attention to the group of young poets that we have here. They contribute a perspective which is unique. They are our future, and it is genuinely an honor to behold their work, as well as support them in their growth as they transform while they grow.
The young poet of the month is KayJay. Kayjay’s work takes a look at the most intrinsic basic human needs and emotions. Abandonment mixes images of water with the emptiness of loneliness. U and Mi cleverly connects the symbols of speech, the alphabet with notes of music and relates sound to emotion. Straightforward sincerity is blended with relatable images while addressing the characteristics of relationships in Kayjay’s pieces. Congratulations Kayjay. We look forward to more from you.
Congratulations! to all the poets chosen. Thank you! Rio. See you guys next month with another round of staff picks.
Submitted by mamta on Monday, August 04, 2008 (08:55:00) (1555 reads)
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| "Features: Staff Picks for August 2008" | Login/Create an Account | 2 comments |
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Re: Staff Picks for August 2008
(Score: 1 )
by mamta on Monday, August 04, 2008 (04:57:28) |
Congratulations to all of you! 
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Re: Staff Picks for August 2008
(Score: 1 )
by Tony on Wednesday, August 06, 2008 (23:44:00) |
Thanks, folks.
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