Today’s Pothur inspiration was to concentrate on reading poetry aloud. Since I do that already, there wasn’t much I could say, but I did take the time to rerererecord this poem.
Why this one? Well, tying into this post, Sparrow is probably the one poem I’ve written that has never gotten a bad comment, yet I don’t think it’s my best work.
It also ties into this discussion about initial caps. Since I enjamb heavily and read straight through the rhymes, initial capitals for me would be a bit weird. Other people tend to savor the line more, hitting those rhymes a bit harder, and putting a slight pause behind them. That feels strange to me, though I don’t mind hearing others do it.
It’s fun to read aloud, though. If everything’s working properly, you should be able to click on the blue arrow and it will start playing. If everything isn’t working properly, er, I’ll try something else.
A shard of ancient glass still pricks my foot
since I passed underneath the window burst
by sparrow flight, as if the building put
itself into her path and wasn’t first
on this old street–predates by eighty springs
my birth, her egg. But in her jealousy
of robins’ breasts, of cardinal-bright wings,
she slit her throat on kitchen glaziery
and dyed down red. The tendrils of her blood
that traced the scratches in my iron sink
remain, despite my bleach, despite the flood
of soap and scrub. I’ve seen a sparrow shrink
from feathered warm to nonsense lines of brown,
and feel the glass in me that brought her down.
A poem so painful and thoughtful..I feel the every moment that takes the sparrow to death and afterwards..the moments linger on…
Your poem is vivid and helps recreate the event..
great work..one poem I won’t forget..
thanks for sharing
I like it very much. I also like the reading, which is rare for me.
You’ve inspired me to write a serious birdie poem myself, much less ambitious. In other words, it’s all your fault.
I’ll send the goons your way when they complain.
Golly, that’s not how I imagined your voice.
Lovely poem, heartbreaking, and a wonderful reading. It’s awful when hearing a poet read their poem ruins it for you, but that was perfect.
Thank you (and BTW, even if I don’t comment, I am always in deep awe of your talent)
Eloise
Thanks for the kind words, Abhay.
Carl, I’ll just kneecap ’em with my stunning wit and my even more stunning tire iron!
Eloise, hearing that I don’t sound like you imagined is probably not good news. I blame my parents.
No, I was just expecting a stronger accent. Don’t you live in Ohio? Isn’t there a pretty distinctive accent there?
I’m relying on what I’ve heard in movies for this, I only really know americans from the upper east coast–so lots of Noo Joisey, but not a lot else.
Your reading voice is lovely, don’t worry. I wish I could recite well, apparently I miss out all the vowels when I read out loud.
Eloise
Most Ohioans have a very midwestern accent, so to American ears, most of us aren’t very distinctive. I’m from Appalachia, which lends me a different accent from most of Ohio if I’m speaking very casually, but my mother drilled us from a young age to get rid of some of that accent, so my entire family ended up sounding like me.
My dad though, whew. For him, these words all rhymed: shower, tire, far. Creek rhymed with thick. Washed rhymed with borscht. All Mom’s training didn’t work on him!
Thank you for posting a clip of your poetry reading. That last sentence had much more impact for me when you read it than when I read it to myself.
beautifully crafted. Just enough repeating rythms. Very Very nice.