Category Archives: Poetry

Life, This Morning…..

credit: RobinLK Studios/2016
credit: RobinLK Studios/2016

 

Mortality

Aging

Living …. (!)

 

gnawing at me,

whispering to me,

.

.

.

tapping

     on

         my

              shoulder.

 

 ~ RLK  2.28.17

poemcrazy…. {Great Reads}

book cover: PoemcrazyDear Susan Goldsmith Wooldridge,

You had me at, “I’m a collector of many things.”

Proudly stated in the opening chapter of her book, Wooldridge’s lead-in to her collection of words starts by revealing she’s a collector of a great many things. Hmmmm….. feels familiar…..

Add her thoughts on the writing style of e.e. cummings (irreverent, playing with words while breaking all the rules), and I was pretty sure I had stumbled on to a kindred spirit, one whose love of wordplay matches my own. 🙂

I don’t remember reading the classics in high school, probably because we moved a lot and I’d miss that unit of study every year – or I just completely tuned it out, chalking it up to a bunch of old writers and their dumb ideas. {teenage perspective} Hard to say.

What’s not hard to say, though, is that with Susan’s help, I learned about some of our greatest writers/poets and their contributions to American language – and perhaps, somehow, some of them had influenced my own writing. Interesting!

Her inclusion of Thoreau, Whitman, Cummings, Roethke, and Kunitz (to name a few) made reading poemcrazy feel like a cool college class that you really want to take and can’t get enough of the who, what, and why of the subject. Yes, I remember taking a few of those classes, don’t you?!

With 60 brief chapters that include stories from life (the author’s and others’), how words were created to describe those life stories, and a suggested (very do-able) writing practice activity,

poemcrazy is approachable, digestible, and palpable – allowing the reader a peek into the hearts of its author and contributors, creating a sense of intimacy that left me thinking about Wooldridge’s words (and those of her students, workshop participants, family, and friends) long after closing the book – as I fell asleep, drove to work, and even while sitting in meetings….. Once again, felt familiar….

Poemcrazy resonates with its reader, like a great conversation over coffee with a friend: warm, heartfelt, not soon forgotten.

If you enjoy wordplay even a little, or want to explore ways to write with abandon, this book is a treat. Highly recommend.

p.s. ~ Be on the lookout for the story behind the cover image…. 😉

Of All the Places….

a handwritten poem in a journal

 

of all the

places,

i remember it

best.

 

 

 

our house

on the corner –

suburban Miami

circa 1970s:

3 bedrooms.

long hallway.

“florida” room.

tall

heater

on

the

living room

wall.

a front porch

for making

mud pies.

sunday dinners

on

the

homemade table.

jumping fish.

spilled spaghetti….

slid

right

off

the

plate!

boy, was mom

mad!

nail polish

in

the

carpet.

a bunny

(and his poo!)

in.the.house.

a dog

playing

in

our

yard.

pulling weeds

every

weekend.

cleaning

the

bathroom.

my bedroom

with

corner windows.

always

rearranging

my

books.

lots of books.

writing.

lisa t

lived across

the street

and one house

over.

cute mark,

her older brother.

his lisp

made him cuter!

terriann and

her little sister

lived

across and behind.

not so cute.

indeed.

riding

our

bikes.

teaching

gran

to ride.

a dark,

rainy

night

that

brought

thieves.

lawnmower

stolen

right out

of

the

neighbor’s

shed!

a normal life

then….

a real neighborhood:

neighbors.

playing

outside

‘til dark.

friends.

a safe backyard

complete with

playhouse —

adorned with

windows and

flowers.

a mom.

a dad.

a little sister.

{before there were two}

pets.

chores.

laughing.

fighting.

celebrations.

arguments.

getting

in

trouble.

on

restriction. . . .

a

wooden

paddle!

summer

camp.

.

.

.

of all the

places,

i remember it. . . . .

best.

 

~ Robin Le Roy-Kyle

January 15, 2017

 

The Poetry We Live

magnetic words on a fridge
Daily Inspiration….

I often stand at our fridge, looking at the dozens of words, all magnetized and waiting to be noticed, moved, and meshed into a poem or story. I wait to see what jumps out at me – combinations of words that take on a life of their own. A few months ago, four words stood out – each in its own place on the fridge, but each needing to be moved closer to the others. Here’s what they said:

The

poetry

we

live.

I moved them close together. Gave them their own space. Those four words have been there every day since, each time catching my eye when I walk by… and every time, I think, “What will the art look like that gets these words?” 

Truth is – I can’t limit those four words to one piece of art. Every day something happens, and I think, The poetry we live….

Recently, a dear friend texted to tell me her Dad was just diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer. She knew our family had been through the cancer fight two short years ago and that I’d understand. I do. Sort of. I cried when I read her message. Stage 4 is devastating. She told me a few days later that they are fighting ’til the end. Fight the Good Fight, my friend. Fight the Good Fight. I thought to myself… The poetry we live.  And then I prayed.

Then last Sunday, I met up with a friend for coffee. While we chatted, I began to think, The poetry we live…. I could feel it in the words we spoke and see it in the people around us – rushing in, waiting for their coffee, checking their phones, hugging friends, and heading out into the gray Sunday weather…. It was kind of surreal, actually.

Fast-forward to today….  I was working on a piece of art for my mom. She sent me a picture of my youngest sister (grown woman with 3 kiddos) and her pig. Yes, pig! In the picture, my sister has recently returned home from shopping and flung her bags down in an adjacent chair. She leans over to pet her beloved pig. And I swear, the pig is smiling….  

You see, she (my sister, not the pig), after fighting cancer, decided to work on her Bucket List, which apparently included living on a farm/property with lots of animals, along with her husband and children. They are crazy-happy. As I neared completion of the first draft of the watercolor rendering, I thought to myself, The poetry we live….. And I smiled… 🙂

magnetic words on a fridge - the poetry we live
Daily thoughtfulness…

And so it goes – our lives are filled with poetry we write each day – those moments we live …. aware or not…. happy or not … all contributing to our story.

Have a great evening, friends… and — go live your poetry.

r.

 

Rusty Butt….

It’s Friday and my brain has been buzzing all week… with all sorts of things. Wanted to share one this morning, before I head out the door for the ‘day gig.’   🙂

I say that with affection… I love what I do!

cover of book, Eating Bull
credit: amazon/CarrieRubin

I recently finished reading fellow blogger, medical doctor, and author Carrie Rubin’s novel, Eating Bull. It, along with a post she recently shared, along with my own food and image issues, have all been on my mind. I look forward to sharing my review of her book (highly recommend) with a little of my own story (real life) thrown in for perspective.

Until then, though, thought I’d throw a little humor out into the world for a fun Friday… a result of one of those times when I stood beside the fridge and looked at all those magnets – ‘listening’ for the words, to see what was coming out that day. (think: ouija board!)

Here’s what it was…

funny poem about needing to exercise
credit: RobinLKStudios

😉

Have a fantastic Friday!

NYC Fridge Poetry

 

fridge magnets in my kitchen, sorted
credit: @RobinLKStudios

 

As if peering out that 9th floor window to the NYC traffic below,

I see those magnetic words bunched, wandering, gravitating…. north, south, east, west….

Like NYC cars, the words move with purpose.

Noisily. Quietly.

Always with purpose.