Sunday, November 26, 2006

ringing in the 23rd

no need to be coy or clever here. today, sincerity is better served. this is the 3rd time i've hosted the ringing of the bards on somethingkaty. i also orchestrated the wet ringing of the bards not very long ago. i'm not new at this. nevertheless, i am still inspired by the poets who write and submit for these weekly gatherings. i've come to appreciate the ringing of the bards as though it were the blogosphere equivalent of sunday dinner at my mom's house.

considering, too, how near to thanksgiving this ringing comes (albeit a bit late), and considering how much i am truly grateful for right now, let's have ourselves a little feast. this one's not got any turkey though (i'm sure, no matter how much you like turkey, you've had enough by now); instead, let's fill up on poetry!

to start, i had emailed a few of my favorite poets in regards to this particular bards once our mayor billy confirmed my position as bardess (thanks for that title, brian, i love it!). in my email i mentioned the recent drama involving my lovely little kitten (all of 7 months old) Max and his new struggle with cancer. it's been all i've talked about here on somethingkaty the past few weeks, so there's no need for me to detail it again. i would, however, like to ask anyone reading this bards to take a moment and appreciate, with a little more care, the life surrounding them. if you have a pet cat, a dog, a fish, a turtle, or you like to bird watch; take a moment to admire all the joy and beauty in the small living creatures surrounding you. that's my gift to you. what max gave to me. every time i look at him, curled up on the sofa or playing with a bottle cap, i take a moment to appriciate the mere fact that i can see his chest fill and empty evenly with air. just knowing that he's well and playful as a kitten ought to be. and i get to appreciate how much joy and wonder he brings me every moment he's near me.

may sound sappy, but hell, we're poets!!

and now, on with the theivery (oh the what? i thought we were supposed to give thanks?)

i stole a poem from ashraf's blog, but i don't really think he'll mind. he's in france at the moment, having a well deserved holiday with his ummi. (am looking forward to having you back, dear!)

the poem of ashraf's that i borrowed for the carnival is called The Space Below Us. in keeping with the theme of thankfulness, ashraf is one of my favorite people and has influenced my views on poetry, on blogging and on the world. thank you dear. shukran.

next is a special delivery from brian boutwell; another blogging poet who's bond with me reaches beyond the blogosphere. (his blog is extinct now, save for one story; it's a shame if you missed it, but i'm in negotiations with the southern poet to put his work on paper):

Sterling 17 jewels
Illinois pocket
watch, 1926:
____only ticks
if kept wound.

waves come in threes. so do good poets.
and so below are three fine poets with three poems each. three boys who go above and beyond the call of duty.

first in the wave is craig s perez writing out of berkeley. another poet, ah yes, another one, who i've gotten to know and admire. thanks, most graciously, to the lovely yasmin for introducing us both into the wet family.

c.s. sent me 3 poems. don't know if he intended for me to include all three, but here they are (they're not posted on his blog; therefore, the poems appear here at full length. they will be available via chap sooner or later, right craig?)

from "The Ghost of The Harvest Madonna"

Tears of the Madonna, the Hunger and Other Stories: a boy with an allergy to ghosts has trouble with too-logical teachers who say ghosts don’t exist. To celebrate the autumn harvest, the boy claims he had seen his real father’s ghost. When the grains had been collected, the harvest was stored in the silo, but I am saying your vitriol towards Madonna seems out of control. “Madonna Rescues Malawian Child – only 12 Million to Go.” Shine on, shine on harvest moon up in the sky, I ain’t had no lovin’ since January. What the hell is up with the political testimony: the history of how the Sanctuary was built. Ghost nights; God visited his garden; Machine harvest; for what I am and what I harvest through my suffering. Madonna of the Ridge Road. Machines seize the soil.

I’ve got you walking with a ghost. Not tonight, let it be. On Monday Monday Monday. I shall have to quickly immerse myself in an orgy of Madonna listening, much like a harvest festival really. Ghost of Perdition. According to tradition, every night the ghost in the statue of the Madonna is decorated with precious dresses. It might be OK to show Madonna hanging on a mirrored cross, in vernacular tantrums. Halfway through the soup course, the boy recognized the Ghost and invited him to sit and help out with the harvest season on the moisture farm.

In a nutshell, the Harvest plays like grand theft auto: playfulness (‘blanket-vision’ or the godawful-creepy) fell flat. The Harvest as the sultry blonde who likes to dance. When you think about it, Madonna is the most ridiculous lawmaker. “The boy wants to shoot Madonna into space.” BEST. HEADLINE. EVER. Hell, I'd even contribute to the slush fund, provided they agree not to bring to mind ‘trans-humanist identity experience’. Special gratitude is offered to the boy.

the second wave in the pack is made of stone. a strictly mysterious fella with a warm heart and a soft spot for kittens, he's sent me three poems about cats in honor of max and this particular ringing of the bards.

Twelve Cats

Coal-eyed Friend

& Our Wanderer Returns about stone's little kitten Blinky who, it would seem, had quite the adventure just the other day!

and the third wave is from none other than our man Russell Ragsdale of Yuckelbel's Canon. much like his poems, every encounter with Russell is an enjoyable moment. and you're always an eager and willing participant for my ringings, aren't you Russell? ^_^

Brighter and Wiser


& Recriminations

the wave is over, but we still have three poets to be thankful for...

Keith of When I Wax provides me with an appropriately titled Host Meditation (also called "Breadchewing"). Keith brings the bread and musings to compliment. a perfect piece for a poetic feast, without a doubt.

next, the man who makes this whole party possible, Billy! without his dedication and enthusiasm for bringing poets together, there'd be no ringing and no call for celebrating one another's work. i certainly am, and i'm sure everyone else within our blogging poet community feels similar if not the same, truly grateful for everything you do for us and everything you do for the art.

our mayor Billy the Blogging Poet supplies a seg-way in to the up-coming holiday season with Christmas, Stuck on Red. and as always, billy amuses to no end.

last but certainly not least... i don't know if you noticed, but there's nothing but male bodies around the table... until Shirley steps up!
unfortunately though, the link she sent me in her email required a password, so i'm not sure exactly which poem she meant for me to host here. instead of just one then, and to help balance this party out a little, here are 3 (it's a thematic number, at this point) of Shirley's most recent poems!

Ocean View

Warm Thoughts

& Giving Thanks

and before i leave you to the next host (by the way, there is no next host lined up, so if you want to play, billy at idleblogs (at), i just want to say thank you. thank you for reading, for submitting, for caring.

affectionately yours. bardess.

addendum: the last day by shirley of housemouse. this is the poem she had intended for the ringing. thank you shirley!


Anonymous said...

Wow, Great stuff!

arch.memory said...

Of course I don't mind; thank you for doing so, dear! I look forward to reading your great selections (after I get over my cold and jetlag!)

Russell Ragsdale said...

Bravo dear Katy! I've been working my way through. It has been a great read so far! Really wonderful and thanks for encouragement! You are a superhero!

katy said...

thanks boyos!!