Ho (whose name means “Spring Essence”) was an 18th century Vietnamese concubine. Writing as a male, she followed this Confucian tradition. Many of her poems are double entendres: each has hidden within another poem, with sexual meaning revealing itself as a pun. No other poet dared this as sex, is a forbidden topic in this literary tradition. Her excellence as a poet allowed her to get away with irreverence. Her exquisite cleverness and skill in composing 2 poems at once, one hidden allowed her to capture audiences and survive.

A favorite:

“The Well Spring”

A narrow path descends through brush
To the bright water of your wondrous pool.

Under a footbridge’s pale twin planks
The pure spring shunts in shimmering rills.

Tufts of sedge surround its mouth.
A golden carp glides midstream.

Finding this well, so virginal and clear,
Who would put a catfish here?

This most enjoyable poem—absorbed slowly—yields pleasure-reaping moments and many smiles. Spring Essence concludes my simultaneous 3-female poet reading project.

How appropriate that on the first day of Poetry Month Red Bird, Mary Oliver’s twelfth book of poetry, arrived at Lemuria. For those of us who love her work, it is another gift from her to us—one she has been giving for over forty years.
There are sixty-one new poems in this collection, the most ever in a single volume of her work, and each one is a gem—a feast for the soul. She speaks, as always, of the natural world and her gratitude for its gifts, helping us to be more aware as we go about our days. She speaks also in poignant ways of those whom she has loved and who have loved her in return. Of course, let’s not forget her disobedient dog, Percy, about whom the following is written:

Percy and Books ( Eight)

Percy does not like it when I read a book.
He puts his face over the top of it and moans.
He rolls his eyes, sometimes he moans.
The sun is up, he says, and the wind is down.
The tide is out and the neighbor’s dogs are playing.
But Percy, I say. Ideas! The elegance of language!
The insights, the funniness, the beautiful stories
that rise and fall and turn into strength, or courage.

Books? says Percy. I ate one once, and it was enough.
Let’s go.

Janet Maslin wrote a glowing review for the New York Times regarding Stefan Merrill Block’s upcoming novel, The Story of Forgetting. I have also heard great things about The Story of Forgetting from booksellers who have raved after finishing advance copies of the book, so I am really looking forward to reading it.

HANDWRITING: POEMS

Michael Ondaatje

McClelland Stewart (1998)

Previously I have read all of Ondaatje’s novels, in addition to his memoir. I enjoyed most of his work, especially Coming Through Slaughter, The English Patient, and Divisadero. So, when my girlfriend gave me this First Canadian Edition of Handwriting, I felt it was appropriate to dive into his poems.

For the most part, I found this collection difficult to read and understand. To fully appreciate this master craftsman’s poetry, my reading skills left something to be desired. However, with that said, I got into these poems, exploring certain thoughts that spoke to me somewhat beyond the words written on the page . I found a few jewels in particular.

From the 1^st Poem:

“A libertine was one who made love before nightfall or without darkening the room.”

From “To Anuradhapura”:

“A dance of tall men

With the movement of prehistoric birds

In practice before they alight.”

From “Nine Sentiments”, the following two:

VIII. “Her fearless heart

Light as a barn owl

Against him all night”

X. “Love arrives and dies in all disguises”

As you can see, Handwriting touched me, but as an entire book of poems, my reading experience was incomplete. Perhaps in the future, if my skills as a reader of poetry improve, I will re-read these poems and achieve a fuller reading experience, not unlike the ones I have experienced through this talented writer’s novels.