Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Ninety / The Nineties

�I heard one presidential candidate say that what this country 
needed was a president for the nineties. I was set to run again. 
I thought he said a president IN his nineties.� 
? Ronald Reagan, Speaking My Mind: Selected Speeches

�She's all brute force and '90s clich�s.� 
? Rainbow Rowell, Carry On

�People have told me 'Betty, Facebook is a great way to keep in touch with 

old friends....'  At my age, if I wanted to keep in touch 
with old friends, I'd need a Ouija board� 
? Betty White

Midweek Motif ~ 

Ninety / The Nineties

Because this is Leap Year, March 30th is the 90th day of the year. Let's celebrate the number 90 and ninety minutes, ninetieth days, ninetieth years, the  1990s or the 1890s:

The Gay Nineties is an American nostalgic term referring to the decade of the 1890s. It is known in the United Kingdom as the Naughty Nineties, and refers there to the decade of supposedly decadent art by Aubrey Beardsley, the witty plays and trial of Oscar Wilde, society scandals and the beginning of the suffragette movement).

(Note that in the USA, we are just beginning to expose the history of the 1890s from other than white points of view.  That's why I include the Lucille Clifton poem below.  I wonder if that is true of other locations as well?)

 Your Challenge:  Today you have a vast choice of subject: the 90s.  There are two cautions: (1) write a new poem and (2) let your theme echo in your poem like a motif in music.  One way to do that is by refrain or repetition, but there are many other ways.  Enjoy.

The City's Oldest Known Survivor of the Great War

BY JAMES DOYLE

marches in uniform down the traffic stripe

at the center of the street, counts time

to the unseen web that has rearranged

the air around him, his left hand

stiff as a leather strap along his side,

the other saluting right through the decades

as if they weren't there, as if everyone under ninety

were pervasive fog the morning would dispel

in its own good time, as if the high school band

all flapping thighs and cuffs behind him

were as ghostly as the tumbleweed on every road

dead-ended in the present, all the ancient infantry

shoulder right, through a skein of bone, presenting arms

across the drift, nothing but empty graves now

to round off another century,

the sweet honey of the old cadence, the streets

going by at attention, the banners glistening with dew,

the wives and children blowing kisses.

The Old Man's Complaints. And how he gained them

BY ROBERT SOUTHEY

You are old, Father William, the young man cried,

The few locks which are left you are grey;

You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man,

Now tell me the reason I pray.

In the days of my youth, Father William replied,

I remember'd that youth would fly fast,

And abused not my health and my vigour at first

That I never might need them at last.

You are old, Father William, the young man cried,

And pleasures with youth pass away,

And yet you lament not the days that are gone,

Now tell me the reason I pray.

In the days of my youth, Father William replied,

I remember'd that youth could not last;

I thought of the future whatever I did,

That I never might grieve for the past.

You are old, Father William, the young man cried,

And life must be hastening away;

You are chearful, and love to converse upon death!

Now tell me the reason I pray.

I am chearful, young man, Father William replied,

Let the cause thy attention engage;

In the days of my youth I remember'd my God!

And He hath not forgotten my age.

mulberry fields

BY LUCILLE CLIFTON

they thought the field was wasting

and so they gathered the marker rocks and stones and

piled them into a barn    they say that the rocks were shaped

some of them scratched with triangles and other forms    they

must have been trying to invent some new language they say

the rocks went to build that wall there guarding the manor and

some few were used for the state house

crops refused to grow

i say the stones marked an old tongue and it was called eternity

and pointed toward the river    i say that after that collection

no pillow in the big house dreamed    i say that somewhere under

here moulders one called alice whose great grandson is old now

too and refuses to talk about slavery    i say that at the

masters table only one plate is set for supper    i say no seed

can flourish on this ground once planted then forsaken    wild

berries warm a field of bones

bloom how you must i say

***

Please share your new poem using Mr. Linky below and visit others in the spirit of the community.

                                     (Next week Susan's Midweek will be ~ Citizenship)

***

AWP 2016 & 2017 & Ad Infinitum

I am about to hop on a plane to Los Angeles, where I will spend 72 hours immersed in the annual AWP Conference, which brings 12-14K writers to one place. I always pack my high heels in plastic bags. Over the years, my plastic bags have acquired an accidental theme, as seen in my pre-packing snapshot. 

If you offer me a button, I will wear it. If you buy me a martini, I will drink it. If you have a poem to read, I will listen. If you have a question, I'll probably screw up the answer, but I'll try.

In terms of simple self-care, I return to what my godmother Laura used to say: Never turn down the offer of water, Kleenex, or a chance to use the bathroom. There's all kinds of additional good advice out there about networking and/or shoes. In future years, I will probably have more to say about networking and/or shoes. 

This is my fourteenth consecutive year attending the AWP Conference. My range of experience includes the euphoria of a book deal, fighting with loved ones, tears, food poisoning, being hit on by famous authors, a random hook-up or two (unrelated to the prior clause), expensive meals, Triscuit-and-tinned-oyster meals, moderating two panels, meaningful conversations with editors, elevator rides spent wondering "Do I say something?," 50+ hours on the Book Fair floor, several marathon offsite readings, dancing at the Black Cat with former students, and one truly raucous hotel room party. I feel pretty at home at the AWP Conference.

That comfort is a luxury. Not a fiscal one--I've paid for fourteen years out-of-pocket. It's easy to take for granted ways that we navigate the AWP conference maelstrom; ways that might feel out of reach for others, even though they are equally-if-not-more talented, equally-if-not-more craving the community of fellow writers.

If you're going to the AWP Conference this year, consider complicating your understanding of what's going on in these ways~

-Ever walked into a panel where the room is filled over capacity and people have hunkered down to sit along every available stretch of wall?

Imagine looking at the front of the room where your reserved seat waits and wondering how you're going to navigate across all those bodies, filling every aisle, using crutches. Or your wheelchair. 

-Ever ignored a moderator's request for texts in advance--the poems you plan to read, or the statistics you plan to cite--because it's easier to plan morning-of? Ever tried to save money or please an aesthetic sensibility by squeezing the handout onto one page?

Consider that printing just 3-5 copies of a handout with a simple, enlarged font could meet the needs of visually-impaired members of our community. 

-Ever waved off the offer of a microphone because "I talk plenty loud"?

Maybe you do talk plenty loud. Maybe the person after you doesn't. Set the standard, for the sake of hearing-impaired members of our community. 

-Ever shot the glare o' death at the person whose infant keeps burbling, laughing, whining, or crying during the Very Important Tribute to the Very Important Poet in the Very Quiet Room?

Rest assured that parent is not bringing along his or her child because of a misdirected theory concerning postnatal aesthetic development. This is not about "Baby's First Villanelle." That parent is trying to preserve a sense of self, possibly in tandem with pressing professional expectations, in a system that offers no standardized options. 

Your matter of convenience might be someone else's critical access point. 

My privilege is profound. I have good sight and hearing; I can sprint from one panel to the next. I don't have to worry about child care. I am often in the so-called majority. But most of us have at least one scenario in which we are marginalized, whether the criteria be physical, emotional, racial, sexual, or fiscal. The nature of my food allergies is a lifetime of walking into rooms where for everyone else, it's time to party--and for me, it's time to strategize. Cake? Pizza? Where should I stand? What, or who, should I avoid touching? How's my breathing? Do my eyelids look funny? Can people tell my lips are swollen?

I like tote bags. I like a good hotel bar. I love seeing a writer I've never heard of before step to the microphone and tear it up. But I am thinking about these bigger matters, too, and I'm not the only one.

"Why Does Awp Writer�s Conference Continue To Refuse To Offer Child Care?" ~ Anna March for HipMama
The Lulu Fund: Supporting Racial, Gender, & Class Justice
"You're Invited to Braless AWP" ~ Karen Craigo

"Disabilities and Writing" ~ Josh Logue for Inside Higher Ed*

AWP Disability Caucus

"AWP Tips for Writers" ~ "Tipsy Tullivan" via YouTube

*As Karrie Higgins has pointed out, this article has some factual issues, and the headline premise of "debating" access is problematic at best. 

In 2017, the AWP Conference comes back to Washington, D.C., in celebration of the organization's 50th anniversary. I'm not on the planning subcommittee; I'm not tenured faculty at any local school. But as someone who deeply loves her city--our capitol city--I want this to be a time and place where the conference's doors open wider. And the year after, opened wider still. We can do better.

*

If you'd like to cross paths in the real world, here are the best ways to do so between now and Saturday. Say hello! I am shyer than I look, but always happy to meet people. The codeword is: capybara. 

Thursday, March 31

9-10:15 AM ~ Poets on Craft: �The Furious and Burning Duende,� with Mahogany L. Browne, Jacqueline Jones LaMon, and Pat Rosal, moderated by Danielle Barnhart ~ Room 404 AB of the Los Angeles Convention Center. (Presenting)

Lorca tells us that the artist is possessed by duende, a malign spirit that burns the blood like powdered glass. This panel asks if poets can or should summon duende at will. Is it fleeting and ephemeral, or can it be harnessed as an instrument of craft? Five poets who have written about and with duende share their experiences invoking the dark, elusive creative force. We promise fiery exchanges on this evocative subject.

11 AM-Noon ~ Signing for Count the Waves, hosted by W.W. Norton & Co. ~ Booth 613 of the Book Fair at the Los Angeles Convention Center. (Signing)

6:30-8 PM ~ University of Tampa Low-Residency MFA Cocktail Reception ~ Diamond Salon 9 on the Third Floor of the JW Marriott. (Co-hosting)

Friday, April 1

1:30-2:45 PM ~ Reading with 2014 AWP Award Series winners Charles M. Boyer, Sarah Einstein, Susan Muaddi Darraj, and Iliana Rocha ~ Room 503 of the Los Angeles Convention Center. (Introducing Iliana Rocha)

6-7:15 PM ~ Disability Caucus ~ Room 411 of the Los Angeles Convention Center. (Attending)

6-7 PM ~ VCCA Fellows Reunion ~ The Mixing Room in the Lobby of the JW Marriott. (Cohosting)

Saturday, April 2

1:30-2:45 PM ~ �Remembering Claudia Emerson� reading with Jill McCorkle, Emilia Phillips, Wyatt Prunty, Kathy Graber ~ Room 403 B of the Los Angeles Convention Center. (Participating)

Claudia Emerson�s death in late 2014 grieved her friends and her readers. This event features panelists remembering her spirit and her work and inviting audience members to participate by also reading her poems so that her single voice resonates through a chorus of witnesses. The panelists focus on her posthumous books, The Opposite House and The Impossible Bottle.

6-8 PM ~ Claudia Emerson Chapbook Award Reading with M.L. Brown ~ Far Bar Little Tokyo (347 E 1st St) in Los Angeles. (Reading)

LIFE OF A POET ~ PT

We are world travelers today, my friends, as we make a transatlantic flight to Hyderabad in India, to speak with the poet we know as PT, and meet her beautiful family.  PT writes at  Thoughts Unleashed,  and has been with us for some time. We are long overdue in getting to know her better, so pull your chairs up close, pour yourself some chai, and let us immerse ourselves in PT's world. We will do a bit of sight-seeing while we're here, so get ready for some beautiful scenery!

Latha

Sherry: It is such a pleasure to be chatting with you, so we can all get to know you better. As there is so little information on your blog, we have a lot to chat about. First of all, I must ask: what does PT stand for?

PT: PT is my pet name given to me by my husband during courtship days. No one else knows the full form. I am revealing it to you today...PT stands for Pony Tail...the way I used to tie my hair in those days. For all others I am known as Latha.

Sherry: That is so sweet! Latha it is! Give us a snapshot of your life, wont you? Where you live, your family, whatever you would like us to know about you.

Latha: First of all, Sherry, thanks so much for including me in your interview series.  I am truly honoured to be part of the group.

I come from a normal middle class family, both my parents were working, they were in teaching Profession. We are 4 siblings, I have two elder sisters and one younger brother. All are married and settled in Hyderabad.

This photograph gives a glimpse of my family to you all. We regularly meet on specific occasions like festivals-celebrations etc. This photo is taken during my elder sister's daughter's marriage.

Sherry: You have a wonderful family, Latha. It is so lovely that you all live in the same city, to make getting together easy.

My Husband Prabhakar

My daughters

Latha: Prabhakar is a banker. He works for a multinational bank, outside India. We are married for the past 25 years.  I met him for the first time when I was just 16 and after 4 years of courtship we got married in 1990. We are poles apart in personalities ,  he is very disciplined, follows rituals very faithfully, whereas I am quite random and least bothered about formalities.

Now I realize why they say love is blind and, of course, now, for me the statement �opposite poles attract each other� is an established truth.

Our Family

I have two daughters, the elder one Lahari, the younger one Vaishnavi. Habitually Elder one is more like her father and younger one like me. Life exhilarates in their presence...we often enjoy together  going to movies-shopping, eating Chat on road side...doing anything... everything.

                                                    Lahari                             Vaishnavi

Sherry: What a lovely family you have, Latha!

Latha: I am totally a "Hyderabadi". I am born, brought up, finished all my education in Hyderabad only. 

Hussain Sagar Lake with the famous monolithic 

Buddha Statue in Hyderabad)

I got married quite young at the age of 20, when I was doing my PG Course. Immediately  after my studies I have joined, Geological Survey of India (1992), after working for more than 5 years there I have joined AMD, i.e., Atomic Minerals Directorate, Since 1998 to till today.

Sherry: (I am enjoying this visit so much!) In chatting, I discovered you have a very interesting field of employment. Will you tell us a bit about it?

Latha: I have done my M.Sc. PhD in geology, from Osmania University, Hyderabad. Basically I am a geologist, presently working in a Petrology Laboratory, where I study rocks under a microscope to understand their mineralogy, texture and genesis.

Me, working in Petrology Lab

Me during a public awareness Programme 

about Atomic Minerals

Sherry: I have always loved rocks. What an interesting occupation you have. Would you tell us a bit about your love of rocks?

Latha: From childhood onwards, I am a nature lover, and have a fascination to collect rocks. Their varied colors and different surfaces/shapes/structures used to attract my eye, so whenever I get something appealing to my eyes, I used to collect them and keep them with me. Sometimes I even bought some stones and rocks at exhibitions.

Previously, only boys were allowed to take up geology courses, due to involvement of hardships during study and during the job. I think I am lucky that the moment I completed my 12th, I came to know about the college (Bhavan's New Science College), that started taking girls in the geology course. After going through the syllabus of the course, without a second thought I immediately joined the course.

You won't believe it, but ours is the first batch of girls to enter the geology course. I have done B Sc (Honors) Geology, among the first batch of girls graduating from Osmania University in 1989.

Me, at my Osmania University Library

There was never a single moment when I thought I have chosen a wrong profession. Every time I see rocks under a microscope, I feel so elated. You have to see it to believe it....Rocks are so beautiful.

A schistose rock with calcite, quartz,

and mica under a microscope

Sherry: I share your wonder at their beauty, Latha. And it is wonderful you are one of the first women to graduate in the program. You are a trailblazer!

Now, looking back, would you tell us a little about your childhood? Is there someone you feel had a significant influence on your becoming a poet? 

Latha: I grew up in suburban setting (Old City), not too many miles from where I live now, and really had a wonderful childhood. I am like omnipresent in all my neighborhood, playing, talking, helping everyone around in their daily chores. For example, one of my friend's father use to have a vegetable store, I remember how me and my friend (we were ~10 years old then) use to manage the store in absence of her father. 

I use to play a lot of outdoor games very typical of those areas, such as koko, maram peeti, hide and seek, marbles, gilli dandu, flying kites and lot of other interesting games which only children of that time knows. The sophistication and modernization has brought down all those games only to memories.  

The busy world of the Old City of Hyderabad

     

Roadside shopping in the Charminar area

I owe lot of my intrapersonal skills to all those people of different genres and cadres. I understood life's intricacies by observing all those around me which I wouldn't have understand otherwise as both my parents are very well educated and were employed in government sector which is comparatively rare in those times.

Books are the only option during that period when I was in high school (82-84), graduation (86-89), during vacation. I am a vivid reader, if I start a book I used to finish that book by evening (200-300 pages), as we have to pay the extra rent if cant return the book in the library on the other day. I have almost read all poetry prose available in Telugu by the time I completed High School. 

There is some great poetry written by poets like Sri Sri, Tilak, Krishna Shastri in Telugu...and a number of contemporary poets ...whose poems I used to read regularly in weekly magazines which inspired me to write in similar lines...I don't know how much I have succeeded but, yes, that is the time I started writing poems.

Sherry: What made you choose poetry instead of prose? What do you love about poetry?

Latha: Probably when I was 12 years old, I have written my first poem (1982). I mostly use to write in Telugu (my mother tongue). My medium of instruction was also Telugu up to 12th class. When I have joined graduation in 1986, the medium of instruction changed to English and during that period I started seeing rocks...I got some new friends, new environment,  all of which has inspired me to write more and more about all the things around me. Slowly I stated writing in English too, once I picked up the language. But serious writing stated only when I stated blogging in 2009-10.

Me, during a poetry competition in office

Sherry: Would you like to share three of your poems with us, and tell us a bit about each one?

Latha: It's very difficult to choose and select. Most of the time, the poems which I thought were excellent expressions are not received that well by others, while sometimes when I thought "what a stupid write", people have liked it. I don't know the peoples' pulse, I think, I just write whatever comes to my mind.

This poem "Heaven....with you" is one such poem about a person in love. I am not specific about the person but truly I am a Love Buff. There is nothing like love in life....which totally transforms you and evolves you as a person. This poem is one such ode to love.

Heaven... with you                               

Unfathomable heart..unforgettable impact

Your love makes me more intriguing than any thought

They say life goes full circle

For me ....you are 0 degree...you are 360

Wandering  through the world

Wandering in your memories

For me...both are same

Because ...my world begins and ends with you

Never bothered where it will lead

Never bothered where I will reach

For me you are the path ...you are the destiny

Why do people struggle I don't know

How do people relieve I don't know

For me you are the pain ..you are the joy

I never bothered it's hell or heaven

Because for me... it's hell without you

Heaven... with you

Sherry: A beautiful ode to love, Latha. Thank you. 

Ganesh Chaturthi Celebration in my House,
Decoration of Mandapam done by my hubby

Latha: And if you ask me to choose one more poem then probably this poem Life is all about that....unexpectedness, comes to my mind. This is so true of me my inner feel...

After going through so many ups and downs, I am rather philosophical in my approach towards life and relationships. Rather I would say that I am detachedly attached with all the worldly things, though I do all duties without any hindrance. 

Life is all about that....unexpectedness

You can never expect

When and where you are born

You can never anticipate

How and why you are going to die

Life is all about that....unexpectedness

Whom will you choose as your love

Who will be your kith and kin

Whom will you meet on your way

Who will be your partner till end

Life is all about that ....friendliness

You can never predict future...

You can never proclaim desire

What you are going to gain

What you are going to lose

Life is all about that...impudence

Never estimate what time holds for you

Just go with the flow...

Life decides its own course

Life goes on its own pace...

Sherry: Going with the flow is a serene way to travel, my friend.

Latha: Ah, finally, I will give this poem on rain, one of my favourite things. Rains are like god's messages. I really enjoy the  rainy season, seeing the dark clouds, getting drenched in rains, are two most favourite things of mine. Not only me, my whole family enjoys the rains. We all will be in either balcony or on roof top if it�s raining. Alas, of late it�s not raining in Hyderabad, and I am feeling that I am half dead.

It's really weird to imagine life without rains ....

source

Rain...Rain...Come Again!    

Quenching thirst of parched earth

Descending down from the eternal skies

Rains definitely reflect�

Nothing can stop them from hugging

The grasses the gorges

The mountains the ridges

Flowing down the boundless territories

Rains definitely inflict�.

Nothing can constrain them from moving

They never think when�where

They never bother why�. how

Just fly with the breeze

Just flow with the feel

Rains are mellow of the nature

That invites life into life

Rains are melody of the future

That invites love into life

Sherry: I love this appreciation of rain! When did you begin blogging, Latha,  and what impact has it had on your work?

Latha: I first found out about blogging through an article published in a magazine  about different kinds of blogs. Being curious ...I tried to create one blog (I think named  PT's Poetry). Later on it changed to the present form. First  I started posting and, in the beginning, contributed mostly in the form of articles which are nothing but my random thoughts.

Later on I came across with Indiblogger, Haiku Heights, Poets United and Poetry Jam and other sites. Haiku Heights was my most favourite one, I really use to enjoy writing in three lines on given word. Somehow after the closing of that site I feel I lost that streak writing crisp and sweet poetry. Poets United has given me another platform.

Sherry: We are so happy you found us! Who is your favorite well-known poet? What do you love about his or her work?

Latha: That�s a hard one to answer.  Presently I am not into reading much. In Telugu, I love the works of poets I have already mentioned. I learnt about Khalil Gibran through a friend after going through his work...I really became a big fan of his writings. His writings really inspire me. Otherwise I mostly read from contemporary blogs... awesome poetry in some of these blogs.

I specifically remember the 3 line verse of MagicalMystical Teacher, exemplary work of Jae Rose, Bj?rn Rudbergs Writings, Locomente, Sumana, Mary, Old Egg to mention a few.

Sherry: All faves of mine as well. Smiles. What other things do you like to do when you aren�t writing?

Latha: Hey to be frank if I get time....I can go on writing. I really miss writing most of the times due to lack of  free time as well as free mind. I have a tight schedule, every day I get up, cook meal for myself and my two daughters (as Husband works at other place, he keeps coming  and going), reach office ~ 9.00 AM. till 6.00 PM office...Microscopy-computing, meetings-teaching...a lot of other activities, then again coming home, spend some time with kids, go for walk, come back cooking, eating,  sleeping. It's a kind of routine.  

Somehow I squeeze out time in between to read, listen to music, watch TV and browse the net, including visiting my blog, and write. Most of the time my poetry is instantaneous!

Sherry: I so understand. You are very busy! Is there anything you would like to say to Poets United?

Latha: There is a poet hidden in every person...a little pat once in a while, a word of encouragement now and then ... that's all it takes a poet to write and present it. Poets  United is giving a platform to all those poets, including me, to sharpen their skills through all these interactions, comments, variable themes and valuable guidance. My heartfelt gratitude to all those who are directly or indirectly involved in Poets United.

Sherry: Thank you, Latha, for those very kind words. And for such a lovely visit. I so enjoyed hearing about your wonderful life, and getting to know you better. We all look forward to enjoying your writing for a long time to come.

Well, my friends? Wasn't this a lovely visit? I so enjoy our trips to India, a country that lives in my heart. Do come back and see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!