What?!? One vision collage for the whole year? I think I'll do four. Four is reasonable, right? ;-) Besides, they're small...and one of em is really all about a new home and not so much about personal growth. Oh well, I love them. Also, it was awesome to remember feeling like the Queen of Collage again.
Oh
Wednesday, September 14
Tuesday, June 7
Tuesday Treat
On Quitting
by Edgar Guest
How much grit do you think you've got?
by Edgar Guest
How much grit do you think you've got?
Can you quit a thing that you like a lot?
You may talk of pluck; it's an easy word,
And where'er you go it is often heard;
But can you tell to a jot or guess
Just how much courage you now possess?
You may stand to trouble and keep your grin,
But have you tackled self-discipline?
Have you ever issued commands to you
To quit the things that you like to do,
And then, when tempted and sorely swayed,
Those rigid orders have you obeyed?
Don't boast of your grit till you've tried it out,
Nor prate to men of your courage stout,
For it's easy enough to retain a grin
In the face of a fight there's a chance to win,
But the sort of grit that is good to own
Is the stuff you need when you're all alone.
How much grit do you think you've got?
Can you turn from joys that you like a lot?
Have you ever tested yourself to know
How far with yourself your will can go?
If you want to know if you have grit,
Just pick out a joy that you like, and quit.
It's bully sport and it's open fight;
It will keep you busy both day and night;
For the toughest kind of a game you'll find
Is to make your body obey your mind.
And you never will know what is meant by grit
Unless there's something you've tried to quit.
Tuesday, May 31
Tuesday Treat!
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/20913
What To Do About Sharks
by Vivian Shipley
1. If a hammerhead or a great white makes waves during your workshop or poetry reading, don't flap your elbows or slap at it with rolled manuscripts. Sharks thrive on visual stimulation.
2. Blow out candles. Ease away from the podium, and wait at least ten minutes before going for a light switch. Join hands to keep karma with the other poets. It's okay to recite poems you memorized in fifth grade, Joyce Kilmer, in desperation, even Longfellow.
3. Rule of thumb: it's a shark not a dolphin if it is slamming about the room, hugging, blowing air kisses. Performers, sharks are almost all instinct and no brain. Without a sense of occasion, they'll crash any gig, underwater or not, from Madagascar to Malibu.
4. Being eyed by a shark can be exasperating, but don't rush or shift from foot to foot to induce motion sickness. Sharks are immune. They are, however, dyslexic. Flash cover quotes, prize-winning poems directly in front of both eyes. Better yet—stop reading. Pull your new hardback from a knapsack, and if the shark noses you with repeated sharp jabs, hit it on the snout.
5. If all else fails, sharks have a keen sense of hearing. Sing The Battle Hymn of the Republic at the top of your lungs. Sharks have short attention spans, get bored, leave if there is no open mike. So, swing into another verse: Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! His truth is marching on.
What To Do About Sharks
by Vivian Shipley
1. If a hammerhead or a great white makes waves during your workshop or poetry reading, don't flap your elbows or slap at it with rolled manuscripts. Sharks thrive on visual stimulation.
2. Blow out candles. Ease away from the podium, and wait at least ten minutes before going for a light switch. Join hands to keep karma with the other poets. It's okay to recite poems you memorized in fifth grade, Joyce Kilmer, in desperation, even Longfellow.
3. Rule of thumb: it's a shark not a dolphin if it is slamming about the room, hugging, blowing air kisses. Performers, sharks are almost all instinct and no brain. Without a sense of occasion, they'll crash any gig, underwater or not, from Madagascar to Malibu.
4. Being eyed by a shark can be exasperating, but don't rush or shift from foot to foot to induce motion sickness. Sharks are immune. They are, however, dyslexic. Flash cover quotes, prize-winning poems directly in front of both eyes. Better yet—stop reading. Pull your new hardback from a knapsack, and if the shark noses you with repeated sharp jabs, hit it on the snout.
5. If all else fails, sharks have a keen sense of hearing. Sing The Battle Hymn of the Republic at the top of your lungs. Sharks have short attention spans, get bored, leave if there is no open mike. So, swing into another verse: Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! His truth is marching on.
Tuesday, May 17
Tuesday Treat
A Non-Christian on Sunday
by Amy Gerstler
Now we heathens have the town to ourselves.
We lie around, munching award-winning pickles
and hunks of coarse, seeded bread smeared
with soft, sweet cheese. The streets seem
deserted, as if Godzilla had been sighted
on the horizon, kicking down skyscrapers
and flattening cabs. Only two people
are lined up to see a popular movie
in which the good guy and the bad guy trade
faces. Churches burst into song. Trees wish
for a big wind. Burnt bacon and domestic tension
scent the air. So do whiffs of lawn mower exhaust
mixed with the colorless blood of clipped hedges.
For whatever's about to come crashing down
on our heads, be it bliss-filled or heinous,
make us grateful, OK? Hints of the savior's
flavor buzz on our tongues, like crumbs
of a sleeping pill shaped like a snowflake.
by Amy Gerstler
Now we heathens have the town to ourselves.
We lie around, munching award-winning pickles
and hunks of coarse, seeded bread smeared
with soft, sweet cheese. The streets seem
deserted, as if Godzilla had been sighted
on the horizon, kicking down skyscrapers
and flattening cabs. Only two people
are lined up to see a popular movie
in which the good guy and the bad guy trade
faces. Churches burst into song. Trees wish
for a big wind. Burnt bacon and domestic tension
scent the air. So do whiffs of lawn mower exhaust
mixed with the colorless blood of clipped hedges.
For whatever's about to come crashing down
on our heads, be it bliss-filled or heinous,
make us grateful, OK? Hints of the savior's
flavor buzz on our tongues, like crumbs
of a sleeping pill shaped like a snowflake.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)