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This month's image comes from Tanita Davis, who photographed this magnificent sculpture of a harpy at the Kelvingrove Museum in Scotland.

"The Harpy Celaeno," by Mary Pownall Bromet*

Her name is Celaeno, which means "storm-cloud," as the harpies were originally that: female weather spirits. Later, they became known as agents of justice and revenge, often with an ugly streak and potent stench, but I see no foulness here---only focused power. Power that challenged me to do it justice.

It took me several tries to meet her challenge. At first, I wrote this creature a free verse poem, but she was having none of that. Choose a form! she cried. Let me breathe my fury into a known shape, like wind into sails!  Chastised, I began again, this time with the repeating, swirling lines of a pantoum to guide me.  I got lost, several times, but she steered me true to the end.

I'm particularly happy with the title. Women, unlike winds, are "nor fair, nor foul" as legends try to make us. Why not just be magnificent?


Nor fair nor foul
(a Pantoum for Harpies everywhere)

In her naked marbleness she’s stern knots,
 even to her stomach’s creases—She’s a woman
-tall instrument, stroking a blood tune from
wrong-doers. Celaeno wrings life from life;

Even to her stomach’s creases—she’s a woman.
With wings close to her ears, furiously beating
wrong-doers, Celaeno wrings life; from life she
tears justice; squeezes her breast until it cries milk;

With wings close to her ears, furiously beating
clouds, fingernails like tractor screws, she harps
tears. Justice squeezes her breast until it cries. Milk
and honey people the earth but women are storm

clouds. Fingernails like tractor screws, they harp
at naked marble. They’re stern, not
honey, they people the earth. Women are storm
instruments, stroking a blood tune.

----Sara Lewis Holmes


My poetry sisters also wrote to this image, and yowza! We stirred up some powerful poems:

Laura
Liz
Tanita
Andi
Tricia
Kelly


Poetry Friday is hosted today by Jone at Check It Out.

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I ought to have told you a while back, but what with one thing and another, I kinda lost track of the fact that my poem, "A Vampire Pantoum", was published online at Blood Moon Rising Magazine back in June. (It got accepted last fall, and I kinda forgot all about it - oops!)

Today, I figured I'd share it with you here in honor of Halloween:

A Vampire Pantoum
by Kelly Ramsdell Fineman

Come with me
Midnight comes soon
Flying free
We soar beneath the moon

Midnight comes soon
The shadows shrink away
We soar beneath the moon
And over the bay

The shadows shrink away
The air is still
And over the bay
It’s time for us to kill

The air is still
But none can slow our pace
It’s time for us to kill
We leave without a trace

None can slow our pace
Flying free
We leave without a trace
Come with me

A word about the form: The pantoum is an evocative form that originates in Malaysia. It involves a lot of repetition, since each line will repeat once in the poem. A pantoum can have as many stanzas as one likes. Each stanza holds four lines. Lines two and four of stanza one become lines one and three of stanza two, lines two and four of stanza two become lines one and three of stanza three, and so on, until the final stanza, in which line three of the first stanza of the poem is line two of that final stanza, and line one of the poem is the fourth line, and therefore the final line of the poem.

It can sound a bit complicated, but it's exceedingly simple when seen in practice. I posted about the form once before, with a spectacular pantoum by poet Peter Oresick, from his book Warhol-O-Rama. Joyce Sidman is also a master at this form, with splendid pantoums in Butterfly Eyes and Other Secrets of the Meadow and This is Just to Say. She's posted a pantoum called "Spring is the Time" at her website, with instructions on how to write one, if you're so inclined.

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As a poet, I’m always interested in new poetic forms.  Join Hands! by Pat Mora (with photographs by George Ancona, Charlesbridge, 2008) introduced me to the pantoum.  The pantoum is a poetic form derived from Malaysia.  It is composed of quatrains where the second and fourth lines are repeated as the first and third lines of the following quatrain.  In Join Hands!, Mora uses the form (with slight alterations in her repeating lines) to create a poem about celebrating life through dancing, singing, masquerading and parading.  The book takes you through the lines, one line per page, with accompanying photograph per line.  A few Spanish words like ‘amigos’ and ‘canciones’ are used. (Mora is known for her bilingual Spanish/English books.)   The explanation of the form comes at the end of the book.  I wish it had come at the beginning, however!  Reading the text linearly while viewing the picture made it seem a bit confusing.  However, I did enjoy the lively photographs by George Ancona,  accompanying each line.  They feature children dancing and strutting and holding hands.

Have you heard of the pantoum or tried your hand at writing one?  A few months after I read this book, I encountered a pantoum written by Canadian poet, Robyn Sarah in her latest book, A Pause for Breath.  The form seemed vaguely familiar when I suddenly realized I had encountered it in Mora’s book.

This week’s Poetry Friday host is Danika at Teaching Books.

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 Funny how when you are not looking a poem taps you on the shoulder and leaves.  It happened to me this week during our teacher in-service.  Last spring, I tried so hard to participate in Elaine’s challenge from  her interview with Janet Wong. The poem, out of my reach and I stopped fussing with it although I had a class try it out.

Our school is working its way toward becoming a “writing workshop” school based on Ralph Fletcher’s work.  So as a staff we are experiencing writing for ourselves more  in staff meetings. (oh, twist my arm, please!)

The prompt this week?  A getting to know you poem: “I come from”.  Staff followed the nudgings to create “I Come From” poems. We will collect the poems, place them in a notebook for our school community to read.

And there it appeared. Well, not exactly.  This pantuom is growth of the poem seed planted earlier this week and revised while sitting through some might boring stuff at the spelling in-service yesterday.

I Come From

I come from a grandfather clock and abandoned violin wrapped in a wool blanket
Santa Ana winds bit my cheeks as autumn’s ring of fire glowed in the night sky.
I come from John and June who combined their names to creat mine
I come from foot fights with my brother during family road trips.

Santa Ana winds bit my cheeks as autumn’s ring of fire glowed in the night sky.
My nickname, “radar ears”, laughter, and “have you practiced the violin?” heard daily.
I come from foot fights with my brother during family road trips and
Gingersnaps, cauliflower-tomato soup-bleu cheese casserole and roast served on Sunday.

My nickname, “radar ears”, laughter, and “have you practiced the violin?” heard daily.
I come from dad’s teaching life, mom’s service to others, the weekend party house
Gingersnaps, cauliflower-tomato soup-bleu cheese casserole and roast served on Sunday.
I come from climbing trees to read, time with my grandmother and aunt, mentors both.

I come from dad’s teaching life, mom’s service to others, the weekend party house
Poetry, photos, family mysteries and the importance of education drummed into me
I come from climbing trees to read, time with my grandmother and aunt, mentors both.
Love, family, laughter, an imagined life-

Poetry, photos, family mysteries and the importance of education drummed into me
I come from a grandfather clock and abandoned violin wrapped in a wool blanket
Love, family, laughter, an imagined life
I come from John and June who combined their names to create mine

More poetry can be found at Charlotte’s Library  today. 

Happy Reading.

MsMac

Authored by msmac. Hosted by Edublogs.

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