Take this poem

Tricia Gates Brown joins me at the mic to read from her freshly published collection Of A Certain Age. These poems hold a sustained gaze on both the joy and pain in the decades of a life. 

The poems begin at 12:26, for re-listening purposes 

https://triciagatesbrown.net

About the Author: Tricia Gates Brown is a writer/editor in Oregon’s Willamette Valley. She holds a PhD in theology from University of St. Andrews in Scotland and publishes poetry, fiction, and essays. Her debut poetry collection, Of a Certain Age, will be released July 14 by Fernwood Press, and her second, Blessings, Curses, is forthcoming from the same. Her debut novel Wren won a 2022 Independent Publishers Award Bronze Medal. Her second novel, Finding Something to Love, will be published in 2027 by Vine Leaves Press. Aside from writing, she creates art from the home she shares with her spouse and a bevy of beloved cats. 

About Fernwood Press: Fernwood Press promotes poetry collections that speak to the human capacity for spiritual experience. A not-for-profit literary imprint, Fernwood Press is named for a one-acre plot of land overlooking a meandering creek, the site of Oregon’s first Quaker meeting.

I'm digging this one back up out of the archives, because over the years a few folks have told me that they enjoyed it. No one has admitted this without their cheeks turning at least a little pink.

I like this one too! Enjoy.

 

 

What do you want?

It can be difficult to articulate an answer to that question, and even more difficult to find the courage to tell the truth about it to someone else. But Sharon Olds has the guts of ten regular people and the brilliant words to back them up. Enjoy the ride!

A poem by David Jones, 20th century Welsh poet. 

I've found all his other work unreadable thus far, but I'm not giving up. 

Look at some of his paintings, if you can. 

 

Color of Dust interview where I first heard this poem:

https://www.podbean.com/media/share/dir-zraw9-25684ab3

Two recitations of this poem for Poetry By Heart:

https://www.poetrybyheart.org.uk/poems/a-a-a-domine-deus

 

"...Last season's fruit is eaten

And the fullfed beast shall kick the empty pail.

For last year's words belong to last year's language

And next year's words await another voice."

TS Eliot "Little Gidding"

Sometimes you're just minding your own business and a poem jumps out from the bushes and surprises you. In this episode I share a poem that did that to me: "My Mother's Body" by Marie Howe.

Keith Hansen returns to the show with two poems by Stephen Dunn (on a very human theme) and some questions to guide your listening.

"The Worrier" 

"Worry"

Enjoy! 

 

Is a solitary walk in the snow desolate or cheering? These poems offer the answer: yes.

"Desert Places"

"Dust of Snow"

Both by the national treasure, Robert Frost.

I offer you “Little Gidding” by T.S. Eliot. This is far side of the deep end, dear listeners! Come on in.

The best part of creating this series was sitting down with others whose lives have been amended by going into that deep. Joining me at the mic for this last quartet is the generous, intuitive reader and friend Colleen Jeffrey.

The end is where we start from...

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.

I offer you "The Dry Salvages" by T.S. Eliot. This is deep ocean, dear listeners! Come on in. 

The best part of creating this series was sitting down with others whose lives have been amended by going into that deep. Joining me at the mic this time is the convivial and keen-minded David Miller. Enjoy!

 

The bitter apple and the bite in the apple.

And the ragged rock in the restless waters,

Waves wash over it, fogs conceal it;

On a halcyon day it is merely a monument,

In navigable weather it is always a seamark

To lay a course by: but in the sombre season

Or the sudden fury, it is what it always was.

I offer you "East Coker" by T.S. Eliot. This is the deep end, dear listeners! Come on in. 

The best part of creating this series was sitting down with others whose lives have been amended by going into that deep. Joining me at the mic this time is the bright, adventuresome, insightful Anna Danese. Enjoy.

 

I said to my soul, be still, and let the dark come upon you
Which shall be the darkness of God. As, in a theatre,
The lights are extinguished, for the scene to be changed
With a hollow rumble of wings, with a movement of darkness on darkness,
And we know that the hills and the trees, the distant panorama
And the bold imposing façade are all being rolled away—

I offer you "Burnt Norton" by T.S. Eliot. This is the deep end, dear listeners. Come on in!

The best part of recording this series was sitting down with others whose lives have been amended by going into that deep. Joining me at the mic this time is the articulate, generous, and perceptive teacher and reader Eliot Reasoner. Enjoy.

 

 

 Footfalls echo in the memory

Down the passage which we did not take

Towards the door we never opened

Into the rose-garden.

My words echo

Thus, in your mind.

But to what purpose

Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves

I do not know.
Other echoes

Inhabit the garden. Shall we follow?