Welcome to where I am, where my kitchen's always messy, a pot's (or a poet) always about to boil over, a dog is always begging to be fed. Drafts of poems on the counter. Windows filled with leaves. Wind. Clouds moving over the mountains. If you like poetry, books, and music--especially dog howls when a siren unwinds down the hill-- you'll like it here.


MY NEW AUTHOR'S SITE, KATHRYNSTRIPLINGBYER.COM, THAT I MYSELF SET UP THROUGH WEEBLY.COM, IS NOW UP. I HAD FUN CREATING THIS SITE AND WOULD RECOMMEND WEEBLY.COM TO ANYONE INTERESTED IN SETTING UP A WEBSITE. I INVITE YOU TO VISIT MY NEW SITE TO KEEP UP WITH EVENTS RELATED TO MY NEW BOOK.


MY NC POET LAUREATE BLOG, MY LAUREATE'S LASSO, WILL REMAIN UP AS AN ARCHIVE OF NC POETS, GRADES K-INFINITY! I INVITE YOU TO VISIT WHEN YOU FEEL THE NEED TO READ SOME GOOD POEMS.

VISIT MY NEW BLOG, MOUNTAIN WOMAN, WHERE YOU WILL FIND UPDATES ON WHAT'S HAPPENING IN MY KITCHEN, IN THE ENVIRONMENT, IN MY IMAGINATION, IN MY GARDEN, AND AMONG MY MOUNTAIN WOMEN FRIENDS.




Sunday, May 9, 2010

Magpie Tales 13: Gladiolas

THANK YOU TO ALL MY MAGPIE TALES FRIENDS, AS WELL AS OTHER VISITORS TO MY BLOG. I'LL BE TAKING A BREAK FROM THE BLOG OVER THE NEXT COUPLE OF WEEKS, I SO I WON'T BE ABLE TO GO BLOG-HOPPING. FAMILY OBLIGATIONS CALL, AS WELL AS A NEW MANUSCRIPT ON WHICH I'M WORKING. I HOPE YOU ALL HAVE A LOVELY MAY!





Gladiolas



Or glads, as we called them,
their spikes shooting up every summer
in my grandmother’s garden.
Finally a wife with a small plot
of ground, I planted my own,
pushed the tubers down
deep. Wiped my hands on my jeans.
Waited two months. They bloomed.

Bending over their folds of magenta
and scarlet, I raked my left cornea
over the stub left behind by my scissors.
I stood with bouquet in arms, Oh,
this means nothing, nothing at all,

but the world had become blurred
and stayed that way. One week. Another,
until I was forced to admit I could not change

this other world no longer sharpened
by edges. It floated like what lies
beneath a pond’s surface. It shimmered.
The skin of my eye had been sheared
by the wound of a cut blossom,
liquid of Lorca’s doomed verde.
No help but to let the eye doctor
scrape off the crud of that old skin
and let the new grow back again.

Aren’t you glad, my eye blinked,
once the bandage came off,
that again you can see how
the stamens hang quivering,
the hand reaching out for the stalk?





This poem first appeared in Aretha's Hat: Inauguration Day 2009, Ash Creek, Press. For more about this publication, go to www.poemeleon.org. To order the chapbook, go to www.citylightsnc.com.

15 comments:

Charlotte said...

Glad poem, Kay! And the photograph is also amazing.

Vicki Lane said...

Nice response to the prompt, Kay! I especially liked 'the stamens hang quivering.'

I'm not doing Magpies till I get these last chapters done -- visiting all those fifty odd blogs just takes too much time when I should be working.

Catalyst said...

Another wonderful poem, Kathryn.

joanny said...

Interesting magpie poem -- it rings of some truth here? I wonder if it happened to you? Or someone close to you -- either way a very good poem and glad when the bandages came off the world was rosy again.

Joanny

lucychili said...

wow
what a relief

Brian Miller said...

yikes. i scratched my eye as a pup and had to wear a patch for some time. this does smack of truth...nice magpie!

willow said...

I loved this one in Aretha's Hat! It made my eyes water just reading it again. Beautiful, Kay.

Lyn said...

Such an innocent injury..thank goodness the clarity has returned..I too had my vision restored/twice..
this poem really spells it out.

Tumblewords: said...

Terrific outcome. Well told.

Jingle said...

fantastic tale.
Happy Tuesday!

Kathryn Magendie said...

I understand entirely! :) happy writing....

chiccoreal said...

Dear Kathryn: A very thought provoking and cathartic poem. Like the way you use subtle timing mechanisms, leading the reader into the places where you want them to go. Much talent! The piece so precise! How it moves along to the point of not knowing the outcome, and then voila! the successful and deliberate resultant denounement. Lots of skill to write such a wonderful poem!

Vagabonde said...

After a trip to Tennessee and a week in Baltimore I had many posts to read. I did read all the posts I missed on your blog. I especially like the poem Woman in the Mirror by Glenda Council Beall and shall copy it. The last day in Baltimore we were able to go to a secondhand book shop and I bought two books on poetry, one on short poems of various authors and another one called Imagist Poetry, an Anthology. I am not sure what type of poetry is but must refers to its name, images but then again it could be imagination – we’ll see.

Kathryn Stripling Byer said...

Thank you, Catalyst, for dropping by. Joanny, yes, this actually happened, and I did have to get my epithelium scraped away so that new skin could grow!Lucy, what a relief indeed to be able to see again. Vagabonde, I so appreciate your reading all my blogs after your return. I've missed yours, too, and must make time to visit my Magpie friends this weekend when I'll have the time to enjoy it. And Lyn, I was snipping flowers for a luncheon for middle school teachers, feeling good about having put together this event. Pride goeth before a gladiola scratch????

Jingle said...

Two awards for poetry,
the most honest poet award,
the most open minded poet award,

two general awards,
the big heart award,
you are the princess snow-white award.

Hope that you enjoy these 4 award.
Happy Weekend!
Smiles!