THE LAST FIFTH GRADE OF EMERSON ELEMENTARY

THE LAST FIFTH GRADE OF EMERSON ELEMENTARY
April 12, 2016
Showing posts with label poems about bugs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poems about bugs. Show all posts

Friday, December 14, 2012

Poetry Friday: Poetry Postcard 3


It’s Cartoon Mayhem at Author Amok today.

I am making progress on the poetry postcard birthday project, which you may read about here.

My third attempt was in response to this cartoonish antique postcard.

Card by Seminole Souvenirs.

It caught my eye because I have family living in Florida. More importantly, I cannot resist goofiness. And this “Florida State Bird” is pretty goofy. I love his intense gaze, his needle-nose, menacing mouth, stained glass wings and those hairy antennae – nasty.

Before I get to the poem, though, I myself have been cartoonified this week. I have to say, it feels pretty awesome.

Baltimore poet David Eberhardt has put together a reading of “Renegade Poets” on January 6. It doesn’t take much to bring out the feminist in me, so she will be in full-force for this reading, which happens at the famed Minas Gallery. It’s in Baltimore’s Hampden neighborhood, favorite haunt of filmmaker John Waters and site of the annual Hon Fest.


The artwork by Christopher Morawski strikes that perfect balance between edgy and fun. My good friend, the most excellent poet Kathleen Hellen is reading. Slangston Hughes is a fabulous spoken word artist. Alan Barysh is a new poet for me, so I'm looking forward to hearing him read.

I hope my postcard poem strikes a balance, too. No one was  more surprised than I when a certain classical Greek hero strode into the poem and (ain't it just like a hero?) nearly wrestled it away from the poor mosquito.

The Mosquito

Its formal name is ancient Greek.
Imagine Odysseus plagued
by outsized Cyclops
and the song of honey-throated Sirens.
In his long years wandering,
maybe the hero came across
a trial so small, so commonplace,
as Aedes vexans. Vexed as he was
by Scylla’s hunger and Charybdis’ thirst,
Odysseus found mosquitoes
merely unpleasant and tussled
with exciting monsters first.

Laura Shovan


A note on the poem’s construction:

When it comes to prompts -- rather than those "hit on the head by the Muse" moments of inspiration -- I usually have to find a way into a poem. (See this post about on-ramps in writing.)

What's working for me is examining each post card carefully, writing down every phrase and word I find on the front and back. That word bank is my starting point.

When I looked up “Aedes Vexans” I found out that Aedes is Ancient Greek for distasteful, unpleasant. Since I’d already made notes on the postcard artist’s monstrous portrayal of the bug, I now had a monster and Ancient Greece. It was natural for Odysseus to make a cameo. Heck, he nearly took over the poem.
The marble head of Odysseus. That mosquito
bite looks like it's really bugging him.
http://ancienthistory.about.com/od/troyilium/tp/TrojanWarFAQs.htm
My twelve-year-old daughter is a huge fan of Greek mythology, thanks in part to the Percy Jackson and Harry Potter books. This poem scored her approval. Yes!

May your Poetry Friday have no shortage of fun surprises. Our host this week is Her Deliciousness Jama Rattigan. If we’re lucky, she may have some leftover latkes today.

If you would like a poetry postcard for my birthday, please send your address to laura@laurashovan.com.


Friday, September 14, 2012

Poetry Friday: Goodbye to Summer

Photo Credit: Julia Shovan

Bugs. Love them or hate them, in the summer they are unavoidable.

I think insects are fascinating, a trait I've passed on to my 'tween daughter, a budding nature photographer. Her grasshopper picture reminded me, today, of Mary Oliver's beautiful poem, "The Summer Day," fitting for the last Poetry Friday post of summer 2012.

The Summer Day

Mary Oliver

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.


Read the rest at Poetry 180.


Photo Credit: Julia Shovan


It's cold enough for a hoody in Maryland this morning. Enjoy the last of the summer poetry posts at Random Noodling. Thanks to Diane Mayr for hosting!