Words on Ice

Miriam Sagan:

This first image also seems to express spring in New Mexico–glad to discover the work of this artist, new to me.
Concrete poems in all senses of the word!

Originally posted on A Skeptical Designer:

Ephemeral Ice Typography - By Nicole Dextras

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Sources: (Nicole Dextras) (ufunk.net)

View original

Basia Miller’s Poem based on the 1/4 Mile of Art at SFCC

Presence, a sonnet

The metal frame’s seen pain,
its loops of sinuous gut
gauze-bound in variegated red.
A brave topology of stripes

wraps wounded tibia and arm,
ties an apparent thorax
with what’s probably a pelvis.
Stretched wide across the wall,

anonymity permeates the form
til viewers let hands, face, throat,
reflect from foil panes in
body-windows octagonal and square.

It startles me to see this minute’s tears
shine in a work of art.

by Basia Miller

Icelandic E-Book Is Out! Enter the Creative Womb of Darkness with Mother and Daughter Team of Poet and Photographer

Poet Miriam Sagan and artist Isabel Winson-Sagan went to Iceland to experience the Arctic night near winter solstice in early 2014. They shared experiences such as searching for the northern lights and swimming in thermal pools, and responded in words and images. These photographs and poems were produced during the trip, and edited and shared later. Together, they express an elemental experience where such forces as celestial bodies, light and darkness, weather, and the points of the compass are embodied.
It is not that usual for a mother and daughter to collaborate, but our experience has deepened our understanding of both place and of each other–two women of different generations and sensibilities. From SIM guest house for international artists to the Hotel Fron to the sky viewing pavilion of the Northern Lights Inn–Iceland proved not only hospitable but inspirational.

Here’s the link to Amazon Kindle for SWIMMING TO REYKJAVIK http://www.amazon.com/Swimming-Reykjavik-Miriam-Sagan-ebook/dp/B00JQNGP60/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1397749162&sr=1-1&keywords=miriam+sagan

Poems in which I knit and Isabel naps, photos of volcanoes and laundry, darkness is our creative womb and where are the northern lights?

The e-book is also FREE at free at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/429698

Poem Inspired by 1/4 Mile of Art by Jeanne Simonoff

Chance it, hand it over, put it up.
a faceless walk
a silent wish
that I might find you on a wall
not random, but coming face to face
after fifty years.
I still love you.

jeanne simonoff

Some Concrete Poetry at SFCC’s 1/4 Mile of Art!

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At the SFCC Gallery: Prayer or Cell Phone?

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Cartoon by R. Cate.

Wow, that’s cool! Is grandfather saying his evening prayers?

No, he’s just trying to catch a signal on his cell-phone.

Why I Am A Poet or Pop! Goes The Weasel

I was recently on a panel where I was asked the usual question–how did you become a poet? The unvarnished truth is, I have no idea. But that doesn’t float socially. So I have answers ready, hopefully informative about creative process or at least charming.
However, I have been thinking about “Pop Goes The Weasel.” I’ve always loved it. I often sing it. Was my love for it as a child a sigh that I was going to be a poet? Or did it inspire me, in some mysterious way?

All around the cobbler’s bench
The monkey chased the weasel;
The monkey thought ’twas all in fun,
Pop! goes the weasel.

A penny for a spool of thread,
A penny for a needle—
That’s the way the money goes,
Pop! goes the weasel.

I loved much of Mother Goose, and old rhymes, particularly this next one. In it, disobeying one’s mother, gypsies, travel, and rhymed quatrains all conspired to whisper “freedom” in my listening ear. Something I care about more than poetry, I think. And something poetry must encourage.

My Mother said, I never should
Play with the gypsies in the wood;
The wood was dark, the grass was green
Along came Sally with a tambourine.

I went to sea – no ship to get across,
I paid ten shillings for a blind white horse.
I up on his back and was off on a crack,
Sally tell my mother that I’ll never come back.

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