Posts Tagged ‘Poetry’

Not the loss alone — a poem by Gregory Orr

October 22, 2013

Not the loss alone,
But what comes after.
If it ended completely
At loss, the rest
Wouldn’t matter.

But you go on.
And the world also.

And words, words
In a poem or song:
Aren’t they a stream
On which your feelings float?

Aren’t they also
The banks of that stream
And you yourself the flowing?

~ Gregory Orr ~

 (Concerning the Book that is the Body of the Beloved)

See two other poems by Gregory Orr from the same book:

Let’s remake the world with words

Concerning the Book that is the Body of the Beloved

 

New York poet laureate Marie Howe reads “Annunciation” to Krista Tippett On Being

September 22, 2013

New York poet laureate Marie Howe speaks with Krista Tippett about her poetry on the NPR show, On Being. Closing the interview, The Poetry of Ordinary Time, recorded In The Room, April 2013, Howe reads a poem in the voice of Mary, mother of Jesus, describing the Annunciation, which, her friend and mentor, Stanley Kunitz, said no one had ever gotten right. She wrote several versions, tore them up, and then this final one came through her.

Marie Howe said it had nothing to do with her. It just came through her, a reminder that the best poetry comes through us when we get out of the way. When we are emptied of our small self, “by being no one,” transcend our senses and turn within and are open to the higher Self, then that great creative force of Love within us creates, and the miracle of life, of poetry, happens. You can hear “Annunciation” by Marie Howe on SoundCloud. 

Thought this screen save from the video is most appropriate with the poster of Mother Mary holding the infant Jesus!

Marie Howe reads her poem Annunciation to Krista Tippett for On Being

Marie Howe reads her poem “Annunciation” to Krista Tippett for On Being

Annunciation

Even if I don’t see it again—nor ever feel it
I know it is—and that if once it hailed me
it ever does—

And so it is myself I want to turn in that direction
not as towards a place, but it was a tilting
within myself,

as one turns a mirror to flash the light to where
it isn’t—I was blinded like that—and swam
in what shone at me

only able to endure it by being no one and so
specifically myself I thought I’d die
from being loved like that.

This amazingly beautiful and profound poem can be found at 1:36:02 at the end of the interview, but she starts talking about it at 1:34:45. There are six audio clips of Howe reading her poems posted on SoundCloud recorded on March 16, 2003, at the College of Saint Benedict in Saint Joseph Minnesota.

On Being later recorded: Marie Howe — The Power of Words to Save Us.

Also see An Evening with New York State Poet Laureate Marie Howe.

This relates: David Whyte describes the mysterious way a poem starts inside you with the lightest touch. Whyte also uses a biblical reference, comparing poetic revelation to Lazarus walking to the light.

Enjoy reading: The Millions Interviews Marie Howe—Words Can Sustain and Save Us, published January 11, 2018, where Marie describes what the writing and reading of poetry has done for her, and what it can do for the rest of us. This Q&A particularly reinforces the point Marie Howe made to Krista Tippett when writing “Annunciation.”

TM: Do you think of writing as a spiritual act at its core?

MH: I do, because it involves a wonderful contradiction, which is, in order for it to happen, you have to be there, and you have to disappear. Both. You know, nothing feels as good as that. Being there and disappearing—being possessed by something else. Something happening through you, but you’re attending it. There are few other things in the world like that, but writing is pretty much a relief from the self—and yet the self has to be utterly there.

I know exactly what she means. I had a similar experience when “I wrote” ODE TO THE ARTIST: Sketching Lotus Pads at Round Prairie Park.

William Stafford in his poem, Rx Creative Writing: Identity, also writes about being open to “that bone light,” which “belongs inside of things.” And “You know so sure there burns a central vividness.” He reiterates this idea of being a recipient, a receptacle, and an attendant, a reporter: “It tells you; all you do is tell about it.”

In her poem, Mindful, Mary Oliver delights in the world around her, which leaves her “like a needle in the haystack of light. It was what I was born for — to look, to listen, to lose myself inside this soft world — to instruct myself over and over in joy, and acclamation.”

Oliver codifies this message in 3 short, powerful sentences in the 4th stanza of Sometimes, where she gives us “Instructions for living a life: Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.”

Both poems are included in this post: Attentive to and delighting in her surroundings, Mary Oliver lived a life writing astonishing poetry.

Later added this article/interview by Kim Rosen for Spirituality&Health, Feb 16, 2014: Marie Howe: Holding the Silence. The acclaimed poet reflects on prayer, desperation, and letting go of what can’t be said. (PDF)

Newly added, Nov 2, 2022: What the Living Do—Marie Howe’s ‘letter’ to her brother—an elegy to loss and how she lives with it.

— Written and compiled (citing sources) by Ken Chawkin for The Uncarved Blog.

a writing tanka on writing tanka by ken chawkin

September 8, 2013

writing tanka
a writing tanka on writing tanka

stare at the blank page
intimidating or what
now just start writing

no matter what you put down
it will all come back to you

© Ken Chawkin
Fairfield, Iowa, USA
September 7, 2013

WRITING TANKA—Preparing to Write

Writing—a poem on the writing process

Haiku On The Nature of Haiku

Redwood forest photo and haiku inspire others

August 29, 2013

The recent blog post Redwood Forest Haiku, two versions, inspired by a photo my sister took in a Redwood Forest Park inspired other haiku.

Here’s one from GD

In Redwood forest
Giants standing grand and still
Holding the Silence.

Norman Zierold suggested changing the last line to my second version to Guarding the Silence.

In Redwood Forests
There are Giants among us
Guarding the Silence

Paul Stokstad sent two versions, the last one, i reminded him, required an extra syllable, which he added. It turned into a beautiful third haiku.

~1~

In redwood forests
there are giants among us
tall, holding silence

~2~

In redwood forests
there be giants, in silent
cathedral light

adding a missing syllable turned into

~3~

In redwood forests
there be giants, in silent,
soft, cathedral light

If you are so motivated, leave your version in the Comment section.

Varanasi by Mary Oliver in A Thousand Mornings

March 16, 2013

I previously posted Mary Oliver’s poem, Praying, and Philip Goldberg emailed me to say that someone recently showed him the last poem in her new collection (A Thousand Mornings). He said, “It’s called ‘Varanasi,’ and it’s exquisite.” I started looking for it and found the poem posted by another poet, Bob Arnold, on his website. After reading it I agreed – it’s stunning! That’s why I’m posting it here for you to enjoy. I also came across a musical video of the poem with images from the Ganges. After you’ve read the poem, see Diane Walker’s poetic reaction to it below. But take a break from this busy introduction, and then enjoy the enlightened peaceful simplicity of Mary Oliver’s visit to Varanasi.

VARANASI

Early in the morning we crossed the ghat,

where fires were still smoldering,

and gazed, with our Western minds, into the Ganges.

A woman was standing in the river up to her waist;

she was lifting handfuls of water and spilling it

over her body, slowly and many times,

as if until there came some moment

of inner satisfaction between her own life and the river’s.

Then she dipped a vessel she had brought with her

and carried it filled with water back across the ghat,

no doubt to refresh some shrine near where she lives,

for this is the holy city of Shiva, maker

of the world, and this is his river.

I can’t say much more, except that it all happened

in silence and peaceful simplicity, and something that felt

like that bliss of a certainty and a life lived

in accordance with that certainty.

I must remember this, I thought, as we fly back

to America.

Pray God I remember this.

_______________________

Mary Oliver
A Thousand Mornings
(Penguin, 2012)

Now read this beautiful poetic reaction to the poem, Mary Oliver’s Varanasi, that Diane Walker, a contemplative photographer, posted on her website.

Among the NPR Poetry series is this interview ‘A Thousand Mornings’ With Poet Mary Oliver. You can also read the transcript here. I especially love this remark she makes about poetry:

“One thing I do know is that poetry, to be understood, must be clear. It mustn’t be fancy. I have the feeling that a lot of poets writing now are – they sort of tap dance through it. I always feel that whatever isn’t necessary shouldn’t be in a poem.”

Enjoy this wonderful Maria Shriver Interview With Mary Oliver.

See this remembrance of Mary Oliver with links to more of her poems.

Speaking of another famous American visiting the Ganges, see Prudence Farrow — subject of the Beatles song Dear Prudence — visits India’s Kumbh Mela.

Here’s the WordPress.Com Annual Report for The Uncarved Blog. See 2012’s most popular posts.

December 30, 2012

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog. Here’s an excerpt:

19,000 people fit into the new Barclays Center to see Jay-Z perform. This blog was viewed about 62,000 times in 2012. If it were a concert at the Barclays Center, it would take about 3 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

Found in translation: Local literary legend finds her voice by interpreting the words of others

November 12, 2012

Ovation

Local literary legend finds her voice by interpreting the words of others

Margaret Peden has spent her career translating Spanish and Latin American works into English. Ryan Henriksen | Buy this photo

By Jill Renae Hicks

Sunday, October 28, 2012

“We who have attempted a translation often disagree in both meaning and expression. I believe nevertheless that there is a perfect translation, and that it lies among the lines of all the versions produced by diligent and sincere ‘readers,’ ” said Margaret Sayers Peden, professor emerita of Spanish at the University of Missouri, in the introduction to one of her works. Near the end of a decadeslong career translating Spanish and Latin American literature into English, Peden was recently awarded the prestigious PEN/Ralph Manheim Medal for Translation. She traveled to New York City to accept her award this week, surrounded by such authors as E.L. Doctorow, Barbara Kingsolver and Susan Nussbaum. Only a handful of translators have been recognized with the award since its inception.

Peden, known by many simply as “Petch,” was born in West Plains and attended MU for her degrees in Spanish. She began her translation career somewhat by chance in the latter part of the 1960s. At the time, she was working on her Ph.D. and came across a small novel by the playwright Emilio Carballido. She told her husband, English Professor William Peden, how interesting it was.

“And he said, ‘Well, you know I can’t read Spanish. Why don’t you translate it?’ ” she remembered. She did — “and I found I loved it, so I just kept doing it.” Peden has translated some 65 books, including most of Isabel Allende’s novels and nonfiction works, books by Carlos Fuentes and Octavio Paz, the writings of intelligent and progressive 17th-century nun Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, Juan Rulfo’s novel “Pedro Páramo,” and, most recently, Fernando de Rojas’ “Celestina,” a turn-of-the-16th-century work of Spanish literature second in cultural significance only to “Don Quixote.”

That work, published by Yale University Press in 2009, earned Peden the Lewis Galantière Award, sponsored by the American Translators Association. “Celestina” was one of the more complicated works she has translated, Peden said, because of the centuries-old language and the Spanish history she had to research. But she appreciated the challenge of immersing herself in the world from which the tome emerged, and the resultant English translation remains complex in its tragicomic ironies yet is accessible to today’s readers. In comparison, another work Peden said is one of her favorites is Allende’s contemporary memoir “Paula,” which tells the story of her daughter Paula’s coma and subsequent passing, mixed together with vivid, poetic stories of Paula’s and Isabel’s own history and ancestry.

When Peden first began her translation work, she was teaching Latin American literature at MU. Translation courses at universities were not very common, and she did much of the work on her own time. Later she would strive to teach her own students to unearth the true essence of each text while translating, rather than simply switching the language word for word. “I tried to teach my students this: You have to scrape off the words, get down to an under-level. … That’s where the meaning is, below the words,” she emphasized. Gregory Rabassa, a friend and fellow translator, said in Peden’s PEN award statement that her translated characters “speak as they would have had they been born to English and their authors likewise acquire a style in their transformed tongue that is true to what they say or are trying to say.”

Peden will often rewrite five to 10 pages of a work in Spanish at a time, using a combination of both Spanish and English. Then she returns to the beginning and revises, looking up the words she doesn’t understand, and revises again. By the time each book is published, she has pored over it numerous times. She has another hard rule that she judges her work by, a telling aphorism Rabassa passed on to her: “‘You can’t commit the sin of improvement.’ That’s not the point. If it’s a bad book, it has to be a bad book!” she reasoned with a laugh. “Though I try not to ever get one.”

Translating a work is a constant solving of puzzles, Peden noted. “And that’s one of the nice things I love about it, is that you don’t get bored. You can’t get bored.” Often she does as much as or more research than academic writers and critics for the works because she must learn everything she can about a book’s historical and cultural contexts, the way the Spanish language is used in those contexts, and the specific vocabulary and voice of each author — not to mention the voices of all the author’s characters, if applicable. “I don’t have a writing style except the ones I pick up from the books I translate,” Peden explained. “I have done a lot of writing, but that’s not my thing. I’m just better at hearing what somebody else writes.” Indeed, Roberto González Echevarría, Yale professor of Hispanic and comparative literature, praises her ability to nearly turn “herself into” the writers she translates. In his introduction to “Celestina,” he said Peden “is today the most accomplished active translator of Spanish-language literature into English.”

People don’t typically realize how dependent they have been on translations, Peden mused about the often-overlooked role of a translator. “Look at our Western civilization. It came to us in translation: the Greeks, the Bible, all these things.” She is proud to be part of that long tradition and recognizes that she has gained other benefits from walking the “road less traveled” of her chosen career, including a greater tolerance for elements of other cultures she might have felt impatient with before. But Peden added perhaps the best part of her journey has been the relationships she has gained — with her authors, with translators and with other readers who love and respect good literature as much as she. “I’m lucky, the people I’ve met,” she said.

Jill Renae Hicks has previously written arts features for the Tribune and now works as a freelance writer, editor and illustrator. She is interested in the local literary and writing scene and how it connects to the rest of the arts and the greater Columbia community.

Reach Jill Renae Hicks at 573-815-1714 or e-mail jrhicks@columbiatribune.com.

This article was published on page C5 of the Sunday, October 28, 2012 edition of The Columbia Daily Tribune with the headline “Found in translation: ” Click here to Subscribe.

You may be wondering why I posted this well-written article on Margaret Peden, legendary literary translator. There is a personal connection here. Petch is my sweetheart Sally Peden’s step-mother. Petch will be celebrated for her lifetime achievements in translation at Missouri University this Friday, November 16, 2012. I asked her if there was an article about it and she mentioned this one, which came out two Sundays ago. Petch is a great lady, and its always fun being around her and her husband Robert Harper.

UPDATE: Sept 2, 2020: I received a call from a family member that Petch had passed away this summer. I had been wondering how she was doing since it had been several years since we had spoken. Her obituary was posted online July 12, 2020 in The Columbia Daily Tribune, Columbia, MO. You can read it here: Margaret “Petch” Sayers Peden, 1927-2020. It was also published July 9, 2020, courtesy of the family, in the Columbia Missourian: Margaret ‘Petch’ Sayers Peden, May 10, 1927 — July 5, 2020.

I saved it as a PDF with the photo, which I cropped here. You can download it below to get a fuller appreciation for this incredible woman. Here are some of the professional highlights:

Margaret “Petch” Sayers Peden, professor emerita of Spanish at the University of Missouri and renowned translator of Spanish-language literature, passed away at her home on July 5, 2020, surrounded by loved ones. She was 93.

Petch was among the preeminent scholars in the field of translation and one of its greatest champions, working to propel it as a creative effort in its own right.

During and after Petch’s teaching career at the University of Missouri, she continued translating literary works from Spanish to English. She was considered to be one of the leading translators of her time. As a perfectionist, she felt that words could be “unreliable,” “slippery,” “stretchy, treacherous.” She once said, “We [translators] should be evaluated as an actor or opera singer is evaluated, as performing a previously established text.” This acknowledged the complexity of her job as translator, that it was never just finding the English word for the Spanish one, but getting underneath to the essence, or soul of a work. This genius of elucidation is why she was asked to translate works by Carlos Fuentes, Isabel Allende, Pablo Neruda, Octavio Paz, as well as bringing to life her personal hero, the 17th century nun Sor Juana Inez de la Cruz, who, like Petch, was “a woman of genius.” Her deft approach resulted in numerous literary awards including the PEN Translation Prize in 2004, the Lewis Galantiere Translation Prize in 2010 and the PEN/Ralph Manheim Medal for Translation, a lifetime achievement award, in 2012, among many others.

Over five years later, I came across another article, a more personal one, written by Cathy Salter, published Jul 22, 2020 by Boone County Journal: A Literary Remembrance of Margaret Sayers Peden. Cathy and her husband Kit met Petch over two decades ago at a Peden Prize event—an annual event honoring her first husband, Dr. William Peden, (Sally’s father) who founded “The Missouri Review.” She wrote: “More recently, books connected us again when Petch and her second husband, Robert Harper, became regulars at monthly book talks that Kit organizes for Osher Lifelong Learning.” (I’ll paste a little more.)

It was during those monthly Saturday morning gatherings of local writers, published authors, book enthusiasts, poets, and local publishers that we came to know Petch as a true lover of words and the craft of writing. This grand lady has translated over 65 works by esteemed Spanish-language writers—including Isabel Allende, Carlos Fuentes, Octavio Paz, and Pablo Neruda. In 2012, we proudly shared the news that Petch had been awarded the coveted PEN-Ralph Manheim Medal for Translation, a lifetime achievement award.  

Early the following year, Petch reluctantly agreed to do a book talk, saying it would likely be her last.  The morning of her talk, Petch took her audience of 65 fellow lovers of language on a mesmerizing, unexpected literary journey.  She opened by asking, “In the past year, how many of you have read a poem?”  A few hands went up. She then proceeded to introduce us to two of her favorite Spanish-language poets.   

Click the title to finish this wonderful article, also saved as a PDF. It was previously published July 20, 2020 in the Columbia Daily Tribune: Notes From Boomerang Creek: A literary remembrance of Margaret Sayers Peden. Both CDT articles are behind paywalls, why I found other options.

Taylor & Francis published an Obituary in Translation Review Volume 107, 2020 – Issue 1, by Rainer Schulte, Page 135, online Nov 9, 2020: MARGARET “PETCH” SAYERS PEDEN, 1927-2020. They concluded: “The community of translators celebrates the achievements and elegance of Petch Peden.” and encouraged readers to see her obituary in the Columbia Missourian, mentioned above: Margaret ‘Petch’ Sayers Peden, May 10, 1927 — July 5, 2020. (PDF)

Friday, November 14, 2025, Cathy Salter posted this updated remembrance with photos: Celebrating Margaret Sayers Peden. She emailed me, as I had requested, with the link, saying: “Today is the day my weekly blog is published. This one is for the good folks who attended monthly Saturday Morning Book Talks gatherings in Columbia that my darling husband Kit organized for over a decade. As I send it to you, I have a copy of my book Notes From Boomerang Creek in my lap opened to a page with a comment that means the world to me as a writer who loves swimming in a sea of words and memories.”

Cathy added Petch’s blurb for the book from the top of the page under Praise for Cathy Salter’s Notes From Boomerang Creek. “In this delicious book Cathy Salter leads us through the full scope of life’s adventures. Columbia, Missouri has known her for years, and now we share her with a wider world of readers. We follow her down country roads, into U.S. and foreign cities, and enter intimate corners of her life. Be grateful to be showered with luminous words as you turn these pages.” — Margaret Sayers Peden, Award-winning Translator, 2012 Winner of PEN/Ralph Manheim Medal for Translation. The book is available on Amazon.

— Written and compiled (citing sources) by Ken Chawkin for The Uncarved Blog.

Telling the Story of Silence by Ken Chawkin

September 13, 2012

Telling the Story of Silence
Yato vacho nivartante tad dhama-paramam mama*

That Silent place
From where speech returns
Is where Poetry begins

Scrawling across the page
It transforms itself
Into language

Standing up it walks
Straight into your heart
Singing its song

You have to emphasize
The nothingness
For something to be said

It speaks for itself

*From where the speech returns, that is my supreme abode.
Taittriya Upanishad 2.4.1 and Bhagavad-Gita 15.6, 8.21

© Ken Chawkin

This poem, What You May Not Know About Frankenstein, by Bill Graeser, was an inspiration! This poem by my son says it all: INSPIRATION, a poem by Nathanael Chawkin.

Related poems on this theme: Coalescing Poetry: Creating a Universe  Storytelling—a poem on the storytelling process | Poetry—The Art of the Voice | Silence | A Wake-Up Haiku.

Cliffhouse Deck at Dusk, 6th haiku in 13 Ways to Write Haiku: A Poet’s Dozen, brings our attention to a tiny soft sound, making us aware of the ‘loud’ vast silence, a point that enlivens infinity. John Cage would agree.

Just came across this 16-second introduction by John Cage to his composition 4’33” which says the same thing, in his own inimitable way. His literal truth and sense of humor come through.

The material of music is sound and silence.
Integrating these is composing.
I have nothing to say,
and I am saying it.

For the musicians who ‘performed’ the piece, and the audience who listened, the silence was palpable, as you’ll hear from Tommy Pearson’s introduction and concluding comments with Tom Service in this BBC Symphony Orchestra performance of John Cage at the Barbican. Towards the end he quotes Cage as saying, “Everything we do is music.”

You may also enjoy Writers on Writing–What Writing Means To Writers and the links at the end to other posts on writing.

Haiku on The Nature of Haiku

July 19, 2012

Haiku Defined

3 lines, 2 spaces,
17 feet to walk thru;
then, the unending

Haiku Discovered

a poem unfolds
as words take their place in line
this one’s a haiku

Art of the Haiku

do away with words
and you’ll have a way with words
speak less and say more

When Writing Haiku

trim off excess words
expose the bones of meaning
enter Truth deeply

© Ken Chawkin

Other haiku you might enjoy: Transformed—my first haikuCOMMITTED (a two-haiku poem) | Art of the Haiku by Ken Chawkin | Five Haiku | 13 Ways to Write Haiku: A Poet’s Dozen | A Haiku on Haiku Poets | A Haiku on The Heart of Haiku. Search this blog for more haiku and tanka.

Art of the Haiku by Ken Chawkin

July 19, 2012

Art of the Haiku

do away with words
and you’ll have a way with words
speak less and say more

© Ken Chawkin

Also see Haiku On The Nature of Haiku