BACK TO SCHOOL #2 

Poem for Today - August 17, 2014

SONNETEERING MADE EASY

I

With hyphens, clip off endings that don't fit;

We call this “Hyper-Technic Line Expan-”

It has a certain rhythmic swing to it

That can't be got with ordinary scan‑

Pentameter, iambic, is the rule

They teach in every other Sonnet School;

But we have found it simpler, if not nea-­

To take occasional liberties with me‑

Three quatrains and a couplet is the length

Of Shakespeare's sonnets, and of those by Mil-

It's standardized, like cheese from Brie or Stil­-

The only difference being in the strength.

So now that we have settled length and ti-

Our Lesson Number II involves the rhy‑

II

You'll note the scheme, “a,” “b,” “a,” “b,” above

In Quatrain One; that's perfectly O.K.

If something different's what you're thinking of,

See Quatrain Three, with its “a,” “b,” “b,” “a.”

For mittel quatrains we prefer to reck‑

With what the Germans, in their “schonnet-sprech-”

Employ: “a,” “a,” “b,” “b;” ja, that's correct;

No German schonnet's e'er been besser sprecht.

So mix your “a”s and “b”s, your “b”s and “a”s

To suit your own convenience; any son-

Will have our professorial blessings on

If it is rhymed in one of these three ways.

The metre, length, and rhyme scheme now are def-

­La porte est ouverte—simply put la clef.

III

The only item still to be discussed

Is subject matter, and we think you'll find

That Love is one that you can always trust

(Though Milton did quite well On Being Blind).

So Love it is, the simplest of all top‑

Like “Frozen Love” or else “Love in the Trop-”

If you feel good, try “Love Is Here to Stay,” 

And if you don't, there's “Love Has Gone Away.”

Love's hot or cold; it moves like a thermom-

­It's in, it's out, it's either up or down;

It's in the country or it staved in town—

A Fair or Stormy, Wet or Dry barom-

So get a pencil and a piece of pa‑

And you're all set to start “The Sonnet Ca-”

© S. B. Botsford

Page 663-664

In The New Yorker

Book of Poems,

Selected by the Editors

Of the New Yorker,

Morrow Quill Paperbacks,

New York, 1974

BACK TO SCHOOL 

Poem for Today - August 16, 2014

A  LESSON  IN  HANDWRITING 

Try first this figure 2,

how, from the point of the pen,

clockwise it unwinds itself

downward to the line,

making itself a pedestal to stand on.

Watch now. Before your eyes it becomes a swan

drifting across the page, its neck so carefully

poised, its inky eye

lowered in modesty.

As you continue, soon,

between the thin blue lines,

swan after swan sails beautifully past you,

margin to margin, 2 by 2 by 2—

a handwritten swirl of swans.

Under them now unroll

the soft, curled pillows of the 6's,

the acrobatic 3's, the angular 7's,

the hourglass 8's, and the neat tadpole 9's,

each passing in review

on stilts or wheels or platforms

in copybook order.

Turn the page, for now

comes the alphabet, an eccentric

parade of odd characters. If at first you tangle,

now and again, in a loop or a twirl,

no matter. Each in time will dawn

as faces and animals do, familiar,

laughable, crooked, quirky.

Begin with the letter S. Already

it twists away from the pen like a snake or a watch spring,

coiled up and back to strike. SSSS, it says,

hissing and slithering off into the ferns of the F’s.

Follows a line of stately Q's floating

just off the ground, tethered by their tails,

over the folded arms of the W's

and the akimbo M's. Open-eyed, the O's

roll after them like bubbles blown away.

Feel how the point curls round them lovingly

after the serious three-tongued E's.

See now how the page fills up

with all the furniture of writing—the armchair H’s,

the ladders and trestles of A's and Y's and X's,

the T-shaped tables and the upholstered B's.

The pen abandons a whole scaffolding

of struts and braces, springs and balances,

on which will rest eventually

the weight of a written world, storey on storey

of words and vows, all the long-drawn-out telling

that pens become repositories of.

These are now your care, and you may give them

whatever slant or human twist you wish

if it should please you. But you will not alter

their scrawled authority, durable

as stone, silent, grave, oblivious

of all you make them tell.

Tomorrow, words begin.

© Alastair Reid

Pages 381-382

In The New Yorker

Book of Poems,

Selected by the Editors

Of the New Yorker,

Morrow Quill Paperbacks,

New York, 1974

ASSUMPTIONS: 

WE  ALL  HAVE  THEM! 

INTRODUCTION

The title of my short homily is, “Assumptions: We All Have Them!”

Today is the feast of the Assumption – and I assume we all know it means the Assumption of Mary into heaven – after her time here on earth.

It’s an amazing assumption. It’s an act of faith – that there is resurrection – life after death.

I was visiting a lady in hospice the other day – whose husband once said to me that he doesn’t believe in life after death. I didn’t bring that up the other day – as I sat with both of them and with their kids on their back porch.

Resurrection – life after death – is the big assumption – the big hope – the big act of faith.

I would stress faith and hope – because there is no proof – in life after death – just faith and hope – and a belief in the charity and love of God that Christ is the one who will be the bridge that will take us into heaven.

ASSUMPTIONS: WE ALL HAVE THEM

The title of my homily is, “Assumptions: We All Have Them!”

We would go crazy without assumptions. We assume the water is good. We assume the pilot can fly the plane. We assume that the other people in the cars around us are not about to fall asleep. We assume that those who say they love us, love us.

We have assumptions about there being a tonight and a tomorrow – and a next week and a next year.

Tragedies, accidents, abuse, terrorism, can destroy our trust in others as well as life.

Goodness and kindness and love and presence can firm up our trust in others – especially those around us.

MARY: MODEL AND MOTHER

I assume this is where Mary fits in. Her presence in the Christian Vision – helps us build up our faith and our hope and our assumptions about life and eternal life.

I think one of the blessings of being a Catholic is our assumptions about Mary – as a model and a mother. She lived some 2000 years ago. Yet she is more than that. The Christian assumption is that after her life, she was taken up to heaven by Christ ago. And like those who have gone before us, she is someone whom we can pray to. She is someone who we know by faith is with God – and so we can pray, “Hail Mary full of grace…”  We give her that compliment  - then we ask for help.

She modeled how to live life. When she lived her life in Israel – Nazareth, Bethlehem, Jerusalem, and on the road, we see that she was full of grace. She spotted those who had run out of wine – a couple at a wedding in Cana of Galilee - and someone who were running out of blood – her son – on the way to his death at Calvary. She told people to listen to her son. She was there after his resurrection – helping the Early Church get off to a good start.

As we heard in today’s gospel [Luke 1:39-56], in the Early Christian hymn, the Magnificat, she proclaimed the greatness of the Lord with her life – her spirit rejoiced in God our Savior.

She was not only a model, but she has become a Mother for our Church down through the centuries. We see her shrine – statues, pictures, etc. in every Catholic Church – and so many Catholic homes. We see so many churches – like this one – named after her.

When I was a kid I was an altar boy and then a candle boy at Our Lady of Perpetual Help Church,  Brooklyn, New York, I saw firsthand people visiting Mary’s altar – as well as lighting a candle. We grew up as a family saying the rosary – every evening. It felt like an hour – especially with my mother’s add ons – which I’ve always hated – but all this taught me that there are assumptions here when it comes to Mary.

CONCLUSION

The assumptions are: there is a God. There is the Christ. There is Mary – a model of faith and hope and charity – showing us how to live life to the full. There she is also  a mother – someone whom we can pray to and hear her say: Go to Jesus. Amen. 

ASSUMPTIONS ABOUT MARY

Poem for Today - August 15, 2014

SONNET 41

In Mary's body miracles took place

Expressions, Yahweh, of Your holy plan.

She danced in You before her life began,

Conception sweetly clean, without a trace

Of sin or imperfection, full of grace.

As conceived, so conceived in Anne;

So conceived the way the Son of Man

Would enter time, would join the human race.

In Mary's body, normal flesh and blood,

A spirit lived unburdened, free to love.

Normal soul and body, hand in glove,

She was as You intended: simply good.

Singularly normal in this wise,

She bridged the gap from earth to paradise.

© Christopher Fitzgerald
Painting: Virgin With Child
Mikhail Vrubel,
detail of Mary's Face

ST.  MAXIMILIAN KOLBE

1894 - 1941

Here is a painting of Saint Maximilian Kolbe by a friend of mine, Al Pacitti.

St. Maximilian Kolbe was killed in 1941 in Auschwitz, Poland. It was by lethal injection. Notice his prison uniform.

He was a member of Conventual Franciscans. Notice his religious habit.

He spoke out against the Nazis - and was imprisoned.

In July of 1941 - 3 prisioners disappeared  - and the German camp commandant chose 10 men to die by starvation. One of the 10, a Franciszek Gajowniczek screamed out that he had a wife and kids. At that Max Kolbe volunteered to take his place.

"A man can have no greater love than to lay down his life for his friends." [Cf. John 15:13]

IMAGES 

SEEING THE IMAGES, 

MEDITATING ON THE IMAGES - 

THE GRASP OF MEDITATION 

August 14, 2014

MEDITATION

Collect your mind’s fragments

that you may fill yourself

bit by bit with Meaning:

the slave who meditates

the mysteries of Creation

for sixty minutes

gains more merit

than from sixty years

of fasting and prayer.

Meditation:

high-soaring hawk

of Intellect's wrist

resting at last

on the flowering branch

of the Heart:

this world and the next

are hidden beneath

its folded wing.

Now perched before

the mud hut

which is Earth

now clasping with its talons

a branch of the Tree

of Paradise

soaring here

striking there—cacti moment

fresh prey

gobbling a mouthful of moonlight

wheeling away

beyond the sun

darting between the Great Wheel's

star-set spokes, it rips to shreds

the Footstool and Throne

a pigeon's feather

in its beak

or a comet

till finally free of everything

it alights, silent

on a topmost bough.

Hunting is king's sport,

not just anyone's

pastime

but you?

you’ve hooded the falcon

-        What can I say? –

Clipped its pinions

broken its wings …

alas.

© Sana’i (Persian Sufi poet)

ON THE BORDERS  
OF ENLIGHTENMENT 

Poem for Today - August 13, 2014

SOUL

When we are able to place

ourselves inside the wings

of the butterfly and feel its

fluid motion,

When we are able to enter the

head of the ant and see through

its eyes, and to feel the

burden of the bread that

lies upon its back:

This is the time when we are

enlightened

and only begin to

touch upon the borders

of the eternal spirit

the borders of the soul.

© Eamon J. McEneaney,

Page 32 in

A Bend in the Road,

Poems by Eamon J. Mceneaney

Cornell University Press