Today
April begins with 45 degree temps and a cutting wind. Tonight we are to see
rain and some snow after an Easter Sunday in the 60s with beautiful sun. The
yo-yo of weather in March makes it a lesser month in my mind. But April…even
with chill and drizzle, allows me to see beyond to nicer weather coming. April
is a hopeful month!
April is
also National Poetry Month, a month long recognition of poetry that I have always
enjoyed. Since I have been neglecting poetry a bit, I welcomed a reminder to
pull out a few poetry books. Today I wanted to read in a middle school book of poems
about color. Darned if I can find it! But this is nothing new as I loan or give
away so many books; I never am sure what I will find on my own shelves.
While
searching, I came across a copy of Grist,
2011, a publication of the Missouri State Poetry Society. As often is the
case with books, I find an old acquaintance or a new friend as I search my own
shelves. I pulled out the volume and began to read, only to surprise myself
with my own work. I had forgotten the poem Nicodemus
had been printed there! Writer pals, does this ever happen to you?
Nicodemus,
Kansas is an all-Black town founded after the Civil War when former slaves
moved West. I passed through only once and was unlucky enough to find the
museum at this National Historic Site closed. The people that settled there had
to fight Mother Nature out on that wind-beaten prairie. The first winter they
had to dig holes in the earth and live there until spring. Once a thriving
community after the people managed to build it up, the berg now is a failing
collection of clapboard houses. There is so much history here and I am inspired
by the story of the people who settled here.
Nicodemus, Kansas
Like dark-faced Vikings,
they arrived from the East,
Navigating
over tall grass prairie and short grasses
Curled
tight resembling their own nappy hair.
Conestoga wagons,
buckboards, mules, and feet
Lumbered across the plains,
heading for new lands.
Gone from sight were
plentiful trees, craggy cliffs,
Recognizable deep
dredged rivers.
Moving into a new and
unproven state,
Bringing their own fresh
freedom along,
Dark men carrying only
hymns, hope, and hands
Callused by
sharecropping, working other men’s ground.
Journey ceased where
horizon stroked the sky,
Stopping in the middle
of nowhere some said.
They burrowed deep and
hunkered into earth,
The soil serving as
their only shelter.
Then set to work,
breaking sod with plow and sweat,
They begged a living
from the prairie’s heart,
Living free in a new
hamlet to be called home.
Do you
read Poetry? Have a favorite Poet or
Poem?
3 comments:
What a wonderful surprise, and a lovely poem.
I don't read a lot of poetry, but one poem I remember liking that I read in a college Lit class was "My Papa's Waltz" by Theodore Roethke.
Hi Claudia...
I read poetry from time to time but not frequently. In my home library, I have a shelf dedicated to poetry books, though.
Love your pewter bunnies. So cute. Susan
What a lovely poem you shared! Yes, I read poetry. There are too many great poets to list but a few favorites are Robert Frost, Mary Oliver, Chief Dan George, and our national treasure...Maya Angelou.I will certainly celebrate poetry this month since you've so kindly pointed out that it's being recognized in April.
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