Saturday, April 06, 2013

Common Inspiration--Uncommon Creations.6


I'm going to be in the fly fishing shop at our new Cabela's store today for the Ladies' Spring Day Out event from 9-1:00 talking to folks about Casting for Recovery. I have been involved with Casting for Recovery since 2005, when I was a participant. I have written about it many times here on the blog. Use the search box ("Casting for Recovery") to find these posts, if the spirit moves you. And if you want, you can even "like" the Ohio CFR Facebook Page!

One of my favorite fishing memories happened in Maine when I treated myself to a trip to L.L. Bean's Women's Fly Fishing School. After I completed the classes, I fished on several rivers in Maine before returning home. One was much like the picture above, and although I wasn't dressed like that pre-1920's fisherwoman, I was standing on a large boulder, fishing alone. Alone, but not alone. A flock of cedar waxwings crowded the bank, chasing after the fly I was casting. I was having no luck with the fish, so I just stood quietly to enjoy the birds. When I had been still for a few minutes, one of the birds perched on the tip of my fly rod! My favorite fly fishing catch of all time!! Here's a haiku about that day:


RIVERBANK IN MAINE

Cedar waxwings flocked,
curious about my casts.
Calm fly rod: bird perch.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2013


From Kevin (Kevin's Meandering Mind):

"There's some metaphor at work here,"
the first whispered to the other,
who lounged against the rotting log,
watching, waiting, wondering.
"Oh," the second replied, handing the first
a sandwich she had made for them to savor
while she fished solo from the rock,
"and what is that?"
The first took a thoughtful bite, and leaned back,
eyes scanning the sky
as the sound of the line from her pole
zinged its way into his mind.
"I don't rightly know," he admitted,
"but surely there is a metaphor swimming in that river."
The second nodded,
"And if anyone will catch it,
it will be her."
The two men sat up now, dazzled by her expertise
as she pulled and twisted the pole,
the lure sliding and slinking along the water's surface,
guiding the fish towards her
through some unspoken magic that neither the fish
nor the men,
nor even the father who had once taught her,
could even begin to fathom,
and then, as was her want, she let them all go,
set them loose,
so she could walk home alone, and free,
without their thoughts and talk crowding her head.

©Kevin Hodgson, 2013



From Cathy Mere (Merely Day by Day):

THE DESTINATION

Tiny stones
reach across the water,
spaced close enough
to see the possibility
of the unexplored,
yet distanced,
to make the crossing
difficult.

I poise myself
upon the first,
trying desperately
to balance,
extend,
step,
hoping to cross,
safely.

For a time I steady myself
between the two rocks,
finally pushing
to the next,
it wiggles
back and forth,
I am unsure I will stand
strong.

Water rushes,
reminding me to be
cautious,
vigilant,
stone after stone
I slowly cross the water,
until I reach my
destination.

©Cathy Mere, 2013


From Carol (at Carol's Corner...and be sure you click on the link to her blog to read about her process for this poem):

"Cathedral"
Sunday.
Not for her
a steepled sanctuary
hard wooden pews
raging orations
Hymns from the burgundy
robed choir
mixing in a smoky haze
with yesterday's gossip.

Instead
she hikes her skirt
and climbs a rock pulpit
to worship
in a cathedral
of rushing water.
River choir
sings glory hallelujah
As she casts her line
And lifts her heart
heavenward.

(c) Carol Wilcox, 2013


From Steve (inside the dog):

Fly Fishing: a haibun
Balanced upon a cold rock, she considers her options. Surrounding her, the rush of meltwater, the balm of balsams, the persistence of granite, and the fullness of time. Perched starkly above the translucent surface, she imagines the murky world of trout below -- their hungers, their desires. Each moment contains a lingering delight and a plunge. The door opens through the deep eddy of understanding, and an unsteady step into the swirling waters.


a hand-tied midge arcs
toward icy trout-waters --
craving of ripples

© Steve Peterson





You might have noticed that there is no attribution for this picture. That's because it's in the Public Domain. Here's what Wikimedia Commons had to say about public domain as it relates to this photo:

"This Canadian work is in the public domain in Canada because its copyright has expired due to one of the following:
1. it was subject to Crown copyright and was first published more than 50 years ago, or
it was not subject to Crown copyright, and
2. it is a photograph that was created prior to January 1, 1949, or
3. the creator died more than 50 years ago.

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published (or registered with the U.S. Copyright Office) before January 1, 1923.
Public domain works must be out of copyright in both the United States and in the source country of the work in order to be hosted on the Commons. If the work is not a U.S. work, the file must have an additional copyright tag indicating the copyright status in the source country."


The theme of my 2013 National Poetry Month Project is 


"Common Inspiration--Uncommon Creations." 


Each day in April, I will feature media from the Wikimedia Commons ("a database of 16,565,065 freely usable media files to which anyone can contribute") along with bits and pieces of my brainstorming and both unfinished and finished poems.

I will be using the media to inspire my poetry, but I am going to invite my students to use my daily media picks to inspire any original creation: poems, stories, comics, music, videos, sculptures, drawings...anything!

You are invited to join the fun, too! Leave a link to your creation in the comments and I'll add it to that day's post. I'll add pictures of my students' work throughout the month as well.

13 comments:

  1. "There's some metaphor at work here,"
    the first whispered to the other,
    who lounged against the rotting log,
    watching, waiting, wondering.
    "Oh," the second replied, handing the first
    a sandwich she had made for them to savor
    while she fished solo from the rock,
    "and what is that?"
    The first took a thoughtful bite, and leaned back,
    eyes scanning the sky
    as the sound of the line from her pole
    zinged its way into his mind.
    "I don't rightly know," he admitted,
    "but surely there is a metaphor swimming in that river."
    The second nodded,
    "And if anyone will catch it,
    it will be her."
    The two men sat up now, dazzled by her expertise
    as she pulled and twisted the pole,
    the lure sliding and slinking along the water's surface,
    guiding the fish towards her
    through some unspoken magic that neither the fish
    nor the men,
    nor even the father who had once taught her,
    could even begin to fathom,
    and then, as was her want, she let them all go,
    set them loose,
    so she could walk home alone, and free,
    without their thoughts and talk crowding her head.

    The podcast: http://vocaroo.com/i/s0CQlsNV5ODL

    -Kevin


    - Kevin


    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Kevin- Sometimes a poem just takes my breath away and I don't even know how to respond. I love it, from that very first, "There's a metaphor swimming in that river…" to "so she could walk home alone, and free, without their thoughts and talk crowding her head." Beautiful…

      Delete
    2. Thanks
      I had this idea of two guys watching her fish, during a time (given her dress, right?) when that was unlikely to be happening, and that fishing was this act of rebellion for her. They're lazy, just watching, but her mind is keen and alive and ready to find a path that stakes out new ground.
      Or something like that ..
      ;)
      Kevin

      Delete
    3. This reminds me of some of Robert Frost's free verse conversational/story poems, especially West-Running Brook. What Carol said about taking my breath away. Wow.

      Delete
    4. Kevin,
      I thought about your poem all day long, especially the last few lines. And it kind of got me started on my poem. Thanks!

      Delete
  2. Mary Lee,
    I hope you don't mind, but I let your image of today inspire my daily poem at Merely Day by Day (http://merelydaybyday.blogspot.com/2013/04/the-destination-poem-6-of-30.html).

    Here it is:

    THE DESTINATION
    Tiny stones
    reach across the water,
    spaced close enough
    to see the possibility
    of the unexplored,
    yet distanced,
    to make the crossing
    difficult.

    I poise myself
    upon the first,
    trying desperately
    to balance,
    extend,
    step,
    hoping to cross,
    safely.

    For a time I steady myself
    between the two rocks,
    finally pushing
    to the next,
    it wiggles
    back and forth,
    I am unsure I will stand
    strong.

    Water rushes,
    reminding me to be
    cautious,
    vigilant,
    stone after stone
    I slowly cross the water,
    until I reach my
    destination.


    Thanks for all of the copyright information. I'm always worried about whether I know enough about copyright. I'm learning a lot following your journey this month.

    Thanks,
    Cathy

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Keep borrowing and cross-posting, Cathy! I'm LOVING all the different creations that come from a single inspiration!

      Delete
  3. I keep wondering about the picture itself. Who is behind the camera, a friend, a compatriot? Did they take it to show boldness, or to prove something to someone? Kevin & Cathy, beautiful poems you've added. Mary Lee, obviously you chose the photo, must have been a stand-out to you, too. Thanks to everyone!

    ReplyDelete
  4. Thought today might be the day I didn't write a poem. Wrote about my process on Carol W's Corner.

    "Cathedral"

    Sunday.
    Not for her
    a steepled sanctuary
    hard wooden pews
    raging orations
    Hymns from the burgundy
    robed choir
    mixing in a smoky haze
    with yesterday's gossip.

    Instead
    she hikes her skirt
    and climbs a rock pulpit
    to worship
    in a cathedral
    of rushing water.
    River choir
    sings glory hallelujah
    As she casts her line
    And lifts her heart
    heavenward.

    (c) Carol Wilcox, 2013

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. This is precisely why I fish, and what fly fishing means to me. You thought you knew nothing about fly fishing when in fact, you inferred EVERYthing.

      Delete
  5. So busy trying to paste my dumb poem in, and see if it does weird formatting things, which sometimes happens, that I forgot to comment. Sorry!

    Mary Lee, I love the story about the cedar waxwings. Amazing that they would just land on your rod. And Cathy, "Destination" makes me feel like I am trying to cross a cold Colorado mountain stream. The way you set the lines up makes it feel wobbly like the rocks.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Hi, Mary Lee!

    I loved your haiku, which inspired a haibun. I know I'm late, but I write slowly and saw the photo late.

    I also love the challenge to your students, both artistically, but also to understand what it means to share responsibly within a community.

    Here's the haibun. (At least I think it's a haibun!) :)

    Fly Fishing: a haibun

    Balanced upon a cold rock, she considers her options. Surrounding her, the rush of meltwater, the balm of balsams, the persistence of granite, and the fullness of time. Perched starkly above the translucent surface, she imagines the murky world of trout below -- their hungers, their desires. Each moment contains a lingering delight and a plunge. The door opens through the deep eddy of understanding, and an unsteady step into the swirling waters.


    a hand-tied midge arcs
    toward icy trout-waters --
    craving of ripples

    © Steve Peterson

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Perfect. I'm thinking you've fly fished before?

      Delete

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