Today's Poet - Sharon Olds (b.1942)
I think I've shared Olds' work with you before. One of my books on writing poetry suggests buying all of Olds' books and reading them twice -- once for pleasure, once for instruction. silvertedy gave me her latest book The Unswept Room for my birthday. These poems are a little different in their form than her early work, but the messages are still as clear. She writes beautifully about everyday life experience. The following is an amusing look (and yet so much more) about learning to read.
Kindergarten Abecedarian
I thought what I had to do was to read
the very long word, over the chalkboard,
ab-kedev-gi-hij-klem-nop-qurs-
tuv-wix-yiz, but what I had to do
was to look at a crescent moon-shape and to go
k k k k with my mind. It was strange,
like other things--that a very large Boy owned everything,
even a fire, where he could put you for the thoughts
in your head. Each day, I tried to read
the world, to find his name in it,
the trees bending in cursive, the bees
looping their sky script. Crescent moon
was k-k-k. Cereal bowl
uh-uh-uh. Cap-gun puh-
puh-puh. K-k, uh-uh, puh-puh,
kk-uhh-puhh, kk-uhh-puhh--
cup. Would God be mad? I had made
a false cup, in my mind, and although
he had made my mind, and owned it, maybe this was
not his cup, maybe he could not
put this cup in hell, and make it
scream the cup-scream. Maybe the paper
would was ours, as the actual one was his--
I was becoming a reader. For a moment I almost remember it,
when I stood back, on the other side
of the alphabet, a-b-c-d-
e-f-g, and took that first
step in, h-i-j-k
l-m-n-o-p, and stood astride
the line of the border of literacy,
q-r-s, t-u-v,
I would work for a life of this, I would ask
sanctuary: w, x, y, z.
My piece for today had a bit more work than some other stuff of late. Enjoy.
Possession
your essence on my
lips arouses thoughts of our
first time together
you bound me in chains
and blessed me with leather whips
as proof of your love
mind and body yours,
an unimaginable
life opened to me
Kindergarten Abecedarian
I thought what I had to do was to read
the very long word, over the chalkboard,
ab-kedev-gi-hij-klem-nop-qurs-
tuv-wix-yiz, but what I had to do
was to look at a crescent moon-shape and to go
k k k k with my mind. It was strange,
like other things--that a very large Boy owned everything,
even a fire, where he could put you for the thoughts
in your head. Each day, I tried to read
the world, to find his name in it,
the trees bending in cursive, the bees
looping their sky script. Crescent moon
was k-k-k. Cereal bowl
uh-uh-uh. Cap-gun puh-
puh-puh. K-k, uh-uh, puh-puh,
kk-uhh-puhh, kk-uhh-puhh--
cup. Would God be mad? I had made
a false cup, in my mind, and although
he had made my mind, and owned it, maybe this was
not his cup, maybe he could not
put this cup in hell, and make it
scream the cup-scream. Maybe the paper
would was ours, as the actual one was his--
I was becoming a reader. For a moment I almost remember it,
when I stood back, on the other side
of the alphabet, a-b-c-d-
e-f-g, and took that first
step in, h-i-j-k
l-m-n-o-p, and stood astride
the line of the border of literacy,
q-r-s, t-u-v,
I would work for a life of this, I would ask
sanctuary: w, x, y, z.
My piece for today had a bit more work than some other stuff of late. Enjoy.
Possession
your essence on my
lips arouses thoughts of our
first time together
you bound me in chains
and blessed me with leather whips
as proof of your love
mind and body yours,
an unimaginable
life opened to me