“Bright Red Car” from The Last Night of the Earth Poems by Charles Bukowski, author poet (Black Sparrow Press 1992) and yes, I know the car illustration is yellow but this car jousting is, well… just read it…
I try to avoid speed duels on the freeway but the most curious thing
is
that all my speeding tickets are when I am quietly driving
along on
my
own.
when I am in a high speed duel, darting in and out of lane
at near 100 m.p.h.
the police are never
about.
when I get tagged for speeding it is for cruising along,
day-dreaming, at a mere 70
m.p.h.
I received 3 such nonsensical tickets in 3 weeks so
I laid low for some time — 2 years, in fact, but today
out there
there was a fellow in a bright red car, I have no idea what
model or kind
and I have no idea of how it all started but I believe that
I started it:
I was in the fast lane going about 70
and I caught the flash of bright red in my rear view and
as he swung out to pass me on the right
he was doing 75
and there was time for him to pass
then cut into the fast lane ahead of me
but something made me hit the throttle and cut him
off
locking him in behind an old lady with a CHRIST
SAVES bumper sticker.
this seemed to piss him no end
and next I knew he had swung over on my bumper,
so close that his windshield and my taillights
seemed one.
this pissed me no end and I was being blocked by a
green Volks directly ahead
but I cut right through an opening and shot
ahead.
bright red went wild, spotted the far lane open,
roared over and gunned it
along.
after that, it was just me and bright red
jockeying for spots.
he would garner a lead, then with a crazy gamble
of lane change I would regain the
lead.
during this duel my destination was forgotten and I’m
sure his was
too.
watching him, I couldn’t help but admire his driving
skill; he took a few more chances than I
but I had a little bit the better machine
so it
just about evened out.
then
suddenly
we were alone: a freak break in the traffic
had set us free together
and we really opened
up.
he had a short lead but my machine slowly gained; I
inched up near him,
then I was at his side and I couldn’t help but
look over.
he was a young Japanese-American, maybe 18, 19
and I looked at him and
laughed.
I saw him check me out.
he saw a 70 year old white man
with a face like
Frankenstein.
the young man took his foot off the throttle and
dropped back
I let him go.
I turned the radio
on.
I was 18 miles past my destination but it
didn’t matter.
it was a beautiful sunny day.
* * * * *
Charles Bukowski (August 1920 – March 1994) a German American author, an influential, prolific and transgressive 20th century poet, short story writer, and novelist.
“The Road Not Taken” is a narrative poem by Robert Frost, published in 1916 as the first poem in the collection Mountain Interval.
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveller, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay In leaves, no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and— I took the one less travelled by, And that has made all the difference.
“We will open the book, its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year’s Day”
Edith Lovejoy Pierce (1904-1983) was a twentieth-century poet and pacifist.
Pierce was born in 1904 in Oxford, England. She married an American in 1929 and moved to the U.S. the same year. She and her husband lived in Evanston, Illinois.InformationBoston University.
Pablo Neruda (1904–1973) born Parral, Chile.
Attended Chile University and became a poet, politician, activist, diplomat.
National Prize for Literature Chile (1945)
International Peace Prize (1950)
Lenin Peace Prize (1953)
American Academy of Arts and Letters (Foreign Honorary ∙ Literature ∙ 1968)
Nobel Prize in Literature (1971)
Golden Wreath (1972)
He was perhaps the most important Latin American poet of the 20th century and for a deeper look at his intriguing life I recommend https://www.wikiwand.com/en/Pablo_Neruda
‘AS EVERY CAT OWNER KNOWS, NOBODY OWNS A CAT’ — Ellen Perry Berkeley
Edna St. Vincent Millay was born in Rockland, Maine USA, on 22 February 1892. Edna’s poetry and playwright collections include The Ballad of the Harp-Weaver (Flying Cloud Press 1922) winner of the Pulitzer Prize, and Renascence and Other Poems (Harper 1917)
Edna won a scholarship to Vassar College and became famous during her lifetime for her poetry with its passionate, formal lyrics, her flame-red hair, outspoken political views and unconventional lifestyle. She died on 18 October, 1950, in Austerlitz, New York.
Audre Geraldine Lorde was born on February 1934 in New York City, and went on to become a leading African-American poet and essayist who gave voice to issues of race, gender and sexuality.
Lorde’s love of poetry started at a young age, and she began writing as a teenager. She attended Hunter College, working to support herself through school. After graduating in 1959, she went on to get a master’s degree in library science from Columbia University in 1961 and was head librarian at Town School Library in New York City.
‘The Black Unicorn’ (1978), a volume in which Lorde explored her African heritage, is considered one of her greatest works by many critics. In addition to poetry, Lorde was a powerful essayist and writer.
In terms of her nonfiction work, Lorde is best remembered for ‘The Cancer Journals’ (1980) in which she documents her own struggle with breast cancer. She died November 1992 on the US island of St. Croix.
Cesare Pavese was an Italian novelist, poet and translator, and an outspoken literary and political critic.
Not well-known outside Italy, Pavese is numbered highly among the important 20th century authors in his home country.
Born in rural Santo Stefano Belbo, he often returned to the area, enjoying the solitude away from his turbulent career and heartbroken love life. Pavese was not destined to live long, he died just before his 42 birthday.
Cesare Pavese (1930) rocking his Harry Potter glasses.
The personal experiences of poet Kate O’Neil offer a diverse and interesting look into the creative world of poetry.
After chatting to Kate over our shared memories of the old poem ‘Wynken, Blynken and Nod’ she kindly showed me her ‘waking up’ version (excerpt below) which fits beautifully with the original. Kate then agreed to answer some tricky questions for me and her responses are both thoughtful and revealing.
Welcome, Kate!
Thank you so much for your time.
My favourite poem of yours is short and sweet; ‘Paragliders Bald Hill Lookout’ invokes in my mind’s eye vivid colour, movement and summer days at the beach.
Talking of short and sweet, I recall asking you which would you choose ‘Lollipop or Cake?’ and you immediately said ‘Cake’, supplying a recipe with almonds smothered on top. I can identify with that! I had read your work on Australian Children’s Poetry under Kate O’Neil and recently discovered your real name is Dianne Cook. You explain why in our Q&A, and give readers a peek behind the scenes of your poetry life.
Okay, let’s get those thoughts into words…
What highlights stand out in your poetry journey?
I’ve been hanging out with poetry for most of my life, so there have been lots of decades for highlights to happen in.
Highlights of poetry reading still happen with amazing frequency. They began when I first realised what magical particles words and sounds are, and what selection, arrangement, combination – even omission, can play in shaping and delivering meaning. There were the ‘greats’ I studied at school – some fantastic stuff there, and I’ve stored many riches from them. But the thing is – poetry keeps on coming. There are poets all over the world publishing collections, submitting to competitions and anthologies and magazines – and sharing a way of seeing. Some poems have knocked me flat, left me breathless. Some have lifted me to heaven; it’s a great ride.
There have been highlights of poetry writing, too. For years the only public airing of my poems was in eisteddfod performances by drama students for whom I had written them (but who did not know this – hence my use of a pen-name). There have been lovely moments hearing something performed well.
A major ‘highlight’ was having my submission to the inaugural (and only)Manchester Writing for Childrenprize short-listed. This competition was set up by Poet Laureate Carol Ann Duffy’s team at Manchester Uni.
There have been some wonderful outcomes from this. These poems were published in‘Let in the Stars’, the competition anthology, and one of them has since been chosen for inclusion by Roger McGough in his anthology‘Happy Poems’. AND I have kept in touch with several other poets in the book. I love the book. I love so many of the poems in it, and the illustrations (by Manchester art students) are wonderful.
Since then I’ve made successful submissions to several magazines and anthologies – for adults and children. See ‘Cool Poems’ information further down. And I keep on submitting – (loads of rejections, of course).
See OOPS! at the end of Q&A for more book details.
Is there a significant thread through your creativity?
I would say not. If anyone ever notices one I‘d like to be told. At the Manchester Prize event, Mandy Coe (one of the judges) commented that I write in a variety of voices / styles. She suggested it might be the influence of drama teaching. I don’t know if that was praise or not. Aren’t we writers meant to ‘find our voice’?
What challenges do you face when beginning a poem?
Nothing like the challenges of finishing it. If a beginning (or middle) pops into my head at an inconvenient moment, I fear it will vanish if I don’t get it down on paper or in the notes on my phone. This makes my amount of ‘screen time’ look dangerous.
Are you inspired or influenced by another poet?
Inevitably, and I could never know how many. I’ve done some online workshops recently with UK poet Wendy Pratt, whose work I admire. She, and others in the group, have helped me tighten my writing. Lots of deleting went on.
Can you name just one of your favourite poems?
James Carter UK Children’s Poet
You are asking this of someone whose word files are loaded with favourites! If they are in the cloud, it will rain my favourite poems one day. What if I narrow this to ‘favourite poem for children’? Or better still, ‘favourite concrete / shape poem for children’? I can do that. It’s ‘The Moon Speaks!’ by James Carter. It’s on his website:
This is getting difficult. There are so many ways in which a poem can succeed (or fail). I think I’d rate a poem’s success (for me) by the state I’m in after reading it.
How did you feel about poetry when growing up?
I’ve probably answered this in the first question. I had no discrimination, but anything with rhyme, rhythm, sound patterns, imagery caught my attention. Hymns, advertising jingles, greeting cards, bush ballads…
Do you draw on your own childhood memories?
Yes, at times, but much of that grist is still very much in the mill.
Excerpt from Kate O’Neil verse expanding on the traditional children’s poem.
Have you experienced an awkward poetry moment?
Mostly private ones. (‘What? Did I really write that?’)
Are you a day dreamer or do you plan significant goals?
Genetically inclined to dreaming, but I try to impose goals to counter this. (Hence the Wendy Pratt courses which involved writing on a prompt a day for four of the past six months).
Can you give us a hint about your work-in-progress?
‘Progress’ plays tricks on me? I have drafts of picture books, a chapter book, jottings for poems – ALL OVER THE SHOP! Sometimes something gets finished, usually unexpectedly, usually when I think I am working on something else – and I send it somewhere. Results are mixed. This morning, for instance, I learned I have TWO poems long-listed in a comp (adult) and they will be published in an anthology. Last week I sent off a poem I quite liked to The School Magazine just before I left for Sydney. By the time I got there it had been rejected.
Do you have some guiding words for emerging poets?
I think it better to share another poet’s words that have guided me. The main one is READ.
Jo Bell web image credit Lee Allen
Jo Bell quote: “If there is one thing I want you to take from this book, it is this: Nobody writes good poetry without reading good poetry. Those who don’t take this seriously invariably write cliched, derivative and unoriginal work – just what we all want to avoid – because they aren’t aware of the context in which they are writing.”
OOPS! I haven’t mentioned the publication last year of my ‘Cool Poems’. This was a major highlight! The book belongs in a series published by Triple D Press, Wagga Wagga NSW. It was a nail-biting thing to have a book which would sit alongside collections by Australians Bill Scott, Anne Bell, Colin Thiele, Christobel Mattingley and Max Fatchen. Many thanks to Zita Denholm (Triple D) and Christina Booth (illustrator) for helping it happen.
Di Bates, editor of Buzz Words Magazine, wrote a lovely review on 23 December 2018 ‘Buzz Words: Cool Poems’.
It has been delightful making your acquaintance and learning more about the workings behind your poetry. I look forward to reading many more of your beautiful poems. ♥Gretchen Bernet-Ward
Childhood can come crashing back when you read something from your past. I saw the words ‘Wynken, Blynken and Nod’ and instantly I was about five years old.
Unwilling to stay in bed, sleep seemingly a million miles away, I knew as soon as my mother recited this magic poem, I would drift off into dreamland.
Eugene Field may not have known the children around the world who fell asleep under the spell of his words, but I’m pretty sure his own kids were good examples. Did they know the entire poem? Every line, every verse, every nuance? I certainly did not.
If you are in the same shoe-boat, read on to discover the complete original while you sip strong coffee…
Wynken, Blynken and Nod
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night Sailed off in a wooden shoe — Sailed on a river of crystal light, Into a sea of dew. “Where are you going, and what do you wish?” The old moon asked the three. “We have come to fish for the herring fish That live in this beautiful sea; Nets of silver and gold have we!” Said Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.
The old moon laughed and sang a song, As they rocked in the wooden shoe, And the wind that sped them all night long Ruffled the waves of dew. The little stars were the herring fish That lived in that beautiful sea — “Now cast your nets wherever you wish — Never afraid are we”; So cried the stars to the fishermen three: Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.
All night long their nets they threw To the stars in the twinkling foam — Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe, Bringing the fishermen home; ‘Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed As if it could not be, And some folks thought ’twas a dream they’d dreamed Of sailing that beautiful sea — But I shall name you the fishermen three: Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.
Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes, And Nod is a little head, And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies Is a wee one’s trundle-bed. So shut your eyes while mother sings Of wonderful sights that be, And you shall see the beautiful things As you rock in the misty sea, Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three: Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.
By Eugene Field (1850 – 1895) poet and journalist.
Eugene Field was born in St Louis, Missouri, on 2 September 1850 and by all accounts was a great practical joker.
In 1875 he married Julia Comstock and eventually they had eight children. In 1883 he moved to Chicago, Illinois, to write a column for the Chicago Daily News.
His columns occasionally featured light verse for children and he became known as the ‘Poet of Childhood’. These imaginative poems were both happy and sad (‘Little Boy Blue’ is a well-known tearjerker) and later published in collections including ‘The Tribune Primer’ in 1900 and ‘A Little Book of Western Verse’ in 1903. Eugene Field died on 4 November 1895 in Chicago, Illinois.
Maxfield Parrish and other artists illustrated his earlier books, and artwork changed to reflect 20th century styles over the years while the eponymous characters remained constant.
PROFILE
Maxfield Parrish and other artists illustrated his earlier books, and artwork changed to reflect 20th century styles over the years while the eponymous characters remained constant.
Thoughts Become Words 
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