Hunkered Down Poets!

Are you wandering lonely because of social distancing? Are you in a vacant or a pensive mood? Be gay in the jocund company of a crowd, a host of golden daffodils! They are dancing ten thousand strong and we have a Golden (Shovel) opportunity to write about them all.

PSI Members Only
Spring Fling Poetry Contest
Mailing Deadline
March 31

Rules and submission requirement information is available here.

Winners will be announced during :

PSI Premier Poet Sarah E. Morin-Wilson's
Social Distancing Social Media Social Facebook Event
April 25, 2020 1:30-3:00 pm
and posted on our PSI website shortly thereafter.
(Join the Facebook event here: https://www.facebook.com/events/1871821312950293/
​

How do poets of PSI celebrate World Poetry Day? Here are a few of the poems we wrote or posted to celebrate the day. All poems are copyrighted by the author. 

I.
Facebook feeds me
Daily news,
Complete with pictures
And conflicting views;   
    All from sources
    Whom I choose.

Most are friends
But some aren't really,
And most hold back
Though some share freely
    (And often).
II.
I want a bridge
Across the gulf
Of time and place
And other/self;
    Online friends
    Most days can help.

But in the end
It's face to face
And hand in hand
In times of place,
With back and forth
And give and take,
Where memories form
At equal pace,
    To know each other
    Well.


III.
I miss you,  my  dear  friend.

Each year, at a safe distance,
through my windows,
with discontent and yearning,
I watch the first signs
of Spring.
 
First, a cluster
of little white flowers
with small spreckles
of oranges and yellows
push up through
Winter’s gray-brown
debris-ridden soil
and slowly spread;
then a hard green frond
of what will soon be
the first tall yellow daffodil,
rising strong like a standard-bearer
waving the brightest flag in battle.
Then comes dozens
of tiny bloodred clusters
amidst the first greens
of my roses.
 
All these blooms,
the first beauties of Spring.
 
So brave, they forge the way
for their late-blooming brethren,
and always seem
incredibly vulnerable
to the last of Winter’s icy grasp.
 
This year’s Spring bloom
is novel, like a new story,
it burst forth with
invisible white-gray clusters
sprouted with bloodred blossoms
and even smaller orange and yellow spreckles,
and it spread
wildly
insidiously
moving swiftly
adapting
readapting
deadly
striking down
our most vulnerable brethren,
but soon we know
all are at risk.
 
At first,
some of us scoffed,
faith-based believers ironically not believing
in something they couldn’t see,
even when numbers came in
from China and Italy
and other stricken places,
but then suddenly it was here,
and our numbers grew;
a question haunts our minds,
can this really be happening?
 
We watch from windows
whispering to ourselves
unfamiliar phrases like
social distancing,
sheltering in place,
and handwashing
(handwashing’s not something we usually say out loud)
but now reminding each other,
warning each other,
meme-ing each other,
we’re washing our hands
obsessively,
and practice six feet of
social distancing,
guidelines from
WHO (World Health Organization)
and the CDC (Centers for Disease Control)
~ when have those rolled off our tongues??
and we’re sheltering
hiding
sheltering
in place.
 
This year’s Spring bloom
is global;
one by one
entire countries
shut down
~ shut down for god’s sake
(can this really be happening?)
we’re in isolation;
fear-induced paralysis,
we cannot even whisper things like
quarantine
closed for the foreseeable future
because this year’s crop includes
slowly spreading economic instability
creeps across us,
hard fronds, to hold what will be massive job losses,
rise up as if held by a weakened standard-bearer
waving our tattered flag above a silent battlefield;
as the invasion of our
invisible gray and bloodred Enemy
continues
spreading, always spreading.
 
These blooms are not
the first beauties of Spring.
 
This year's Spring bloom
is an unsettling gray-brown
debris-ridden time,
a time of free-fall
and chaos,
and for most,
there is no precedence for it
within our lifetimes.
 
I’ve always lived
in partial isolation
with my disabilities
and chronic illnesses;
I’m one amongst the vulnerable,
and as this year’s Spring blooms,
I watch
from my window,
for once content
behind the glass.

Given concerns about the coronavirus and the closure of our reserved venue, Poetry Society of Indiana has wisely decided to cancel our in-person Spring Fling April 25. However, there’s no reason we can’t meet online! As Premier Poet, I (Sarah E. Morin) would like to invite you to an online poetry gathering on April 25, from 1:30-3pm. This event will be held entirely on Facebook, so there’s no chance of you catching anything but creative enthusiasm. It is not meant to replace Spring Fling, which is a wonderful all-day event that cannot be captured online, but to provide us with a shorter, fun way to celebrate poetry until the next time we can gather in person (Fall Rendezvous).

The arts and our artistic community have a wonderful power to help us cope with stressful and uncertain times. Let's come together and lift each other's spirits with a brief afternoon of creativity.

HOW DO I PARTICIPATE?
Just click on the Facebook Event page for this event and mark that you are going. Then at 1:30 on April 25, pull up the Facebook Event page on your computer. I’ll post a series of interactive posts for you to engage in and leave comments. You can come and go as you please from 1:30 to 3pm. In previous online Facebook events I’ve participated in, we’ve created a robust conversation in the comments and had a lot of fun. By the way, it’s absolutely free.

GIVEAWAYS!
Need more incentive to attend? I’ll be giving away free poetry ebooks throughout the event, including ones written by some of our PSI members.

WHO CAN PARTICIPATE?
Anyone with a Facebook account! So Poetry Society of Indiana members are encouraged, especially as many of us now have a free day due to the cancellation of Spring Fling. However, anyone can participate, PSI member or not. Students, you are very welcome as long as you have a Facebook account. Poets of all experience levels welcome. Share the event with your friends, in state and out.

LOOK FOR MORE UPDATES SOON
I’ll be putting together some fun activities for this online event over the next month. Look for teasers soon!
​

Today's Premier Poet's Corner features another great poem by George Wolfe. George notes, "[The end of the first stanza is] a reference to the literary classic The picture of Dorian Gray, which tells of a handsome young man whose portrait, which he has hidden in his attic, becomes increasingly disfigured in proportion to the number of his evil deeds."

Visit George at http://georgewolfe.net/.

In today's Premier Poet's Corner, we feature George Wolfe's perceptive poem, "The Web."

Are you a member of PSI? I'm happy to feature your short poems in the Premier Poet's Corner! Hey, I know y'all are smart enough to post to your own Facebook pages, but I can also share your poetry on our PSI website and social media outlets, and combine your work with a picture if you like. If interested, email your poems to sarahemorin1836@gmail.com. I look forward to featuring YOU!

​Today in the Premier Poet’s Corner I post the last of our collaborative poems about Daylight Savings and Springing Forward. More than twenty poets contributed their words to this project - thanks! I love writing with you.

We heard from the pros and the anti time changers already. This last group is more philosophic about the time change. More of, “What does it all mean?” (Well, what did I expect from a bunch of poets?)

Enjoy this collaborative poem by John Hinton, Deb Ritter Carrell, Jenny Anderson Kalahar, Rachel Mohlman, Alicia LaMagdeleine, Kathleen Meyer, and Sarah E. Morin.

Haters of Daylight Saving Spring time change, now you have your say.
 
THE TIME THIEF
 
An hour ahead I set my clock
hoping to wake at the earlier tick-tock.
Cats wake me up. That's nothing new.
But Daylight Saving--oh, peepeepeeU!
 
I too hiss at my darned alarm,
grudgingly smack it with my arm,
push the pesky felines off me,
stumble to kitchen for BIG cup of coffee.
 
My morning comfort food cannot please
(jalapeno bagel with cream cheese).
While hoping the java will leave me wired
I yawn and mumble, “Why am I so tired?”
 
The sand-eyed children are all off-kilter.
My husband seems to have no filter.
Moods sour and tempers short,
we’re a family of sorts.
 
Pull out of the drive running ten minutes late
(or fifty ahead, the dashboard clock states).
I jab at the buttons as we round the block
and give up ‘cause no one can reset car clocks.
 
Pull up at school and join the drop-off line,
tap my toe ‘cause we can’t catch up with time.
Son pipes up he forgot the sack lunch I sent him.
We’re fettered to a hurry-up-and-wait momentum.
 
Then off to work with pedal to the floor,
hop out of the car and rush in the back door,
pounce on the timeclock, and though I’ve tried,
the boss sees I’m late. Time’s not on my side.
 
Daylight Savings Time, please don’t accost
my life so cruelly. An hour is lost.
I relished your gift, but that was in Fall.
In Spring you’re a thief, a curse to us all.

​

I get the nostalgic willies when I see a corpse of a barn when I drive through the country. These noble old wreckages deserve a poem. Photo credit ID 91213 © Jschaap26 | Dreamstime.com.