Friday, April 22, 2011

Punctuated surprises

Looking at the poem "Times Change Cafe" by Gloe Cormie I love the style she uses with a full paragraph of sentences with periods rather than choppy unpunctuated line breaks. Each period denotes a break or end of thought, but the next sentence is always unexpected and changes the meaning of the sentence before. She mentions the world stopping which can be quite scary and fierce, but the next line refers to her getting an autograph which, for a teen, could feel like the world has frozen for that instant. In the 3rd line she talks about the cook crying which, of course, could mean any terrible thing but really, it is just on account of the onions. The description of Big Dave McLean is smashing and the second paragraph, and final sentence, ties in the one getting the autograph with a wild haired woman getting a tattoo. It could be the same person. Classic Winnipeg poem.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Back to Life...

This song comes to mind whenever I have left something too long and need to get back to it.

Back to life
Back to reality
Back to the here and now, yah...

The song is by Soul II Soul and when I sing it, I replace the word "reality" with the words "the poetry." Sounds geeky, I'm sure, but that's me...

Anyways, back to the that first volume of poetry, here's my take on Gloe Cormie's poem "A Free Slice."

It starts of with a fantastic description that firmly plants you in the scene. Upside-down water glasses as jellyfish - so fresh. I envision a plastic seated booth in a cheesy diner, but clean and cool. At first reading, I got the impression that a tawdry old man was trying to be fresh with a young waitress. But reading through several times, as I often do, I was left with the nostalgic feeling of an old man bringing a girl flowers at work as if he was a stranger and it is something he's been doing for a while. I'm not sure if the Free Slice is all about the pie, or if it is the man trying to get a free slice of the woman's time as pleasant company on the bus ride home.

Either way, it is a lovely poem. I can't wait to read more.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Snowy Blues

I've been thinking how I've often heard the snowy blues from people and how often I've taken that snow day and turned it into something fun. The outdoor family that we are, we were relaxing in front of the TV...I know...but when I walked past the kitchen window and realized we were suddenly encountering a late springtime dump of snow, I called my son to come and check it out. Even though it was minutes before his usual bedtime, it was Friday and his comment hit me in the heart. "We should go play outside, mom." I considered how cozy we both had been in our warm pajamas on the couch, looked at the dog, and said, "OK, let's go for it!"

We donned our snow pants, coats, mitts and boots, gathered up the dog and ventured out just before dark. We walked 15 minutes around the block and onto our usual trail. Crunching along in the snow we realized that it was the perfect consistency for easy, huge snowballs. The games began. We attacked each other, and the dog with huge, soft snow grenades and fits of giggles, the rest of the way home and then started all over again in the front yard.

The poetry tie in you ask...?

There is just something poetic about the exhausted feeling of peeling off your winter gear, tucking in your sleepy child and climbing into bed with that rosy cold feeling still left in your cheeks.

Nite, nite.