I’ve made no secret of the fact that I like InsideOut: Poems by L.L. Barkat. (Disclosure: she’s a friend, but I like the poems anyway.) (:)) If you’ve been reading InsideOut, have you seen/experienced/felt/been impressed by/had your socks blown off by/ any particular poem?

If you have, leave a comment here, along with any thoughts you might have about that particular poem, and we’ll put together a summary (or perhaps a series of summaries) as an official post.

I’ve read InsideOut twice, and I have several “favorites.” Actually, if truth be told, they’re all personal favorites. One is “Foyer,” and it starts this way:

Who looks
at the new straw
hat, remembering
grandma,…

And why is this a favorite for me? Because my paternal grandmother, who died in 1984 at the age of 95 and whom I dearly loved, wore a straw hat when she worked outside in the garden. The poem catapulted me back to childhood, when I would spend a week with her each summer, just the two of us. The poem opened up a flood of good memories.

So – do you have a favorite yet? And why?

I posted this review at Amazon today.

Beautiful, Luminous Poems

L.L. Barkat, author of Stone Crossings: Finding Grace in Hidden Places, got it into her head to sit outside each day for a year, even if only for a short time. And she got this idea – in the dead of winter. Her timing may have been off – snow and sub-zero temperatures aren’t the most conducive conditions for a long-term plan – but she did it, and the result is InsideOut: Poems.

Divided by seasons, the poems explore the range of human experience – from tragedy (the death of a spouse; a mother and son’s last moments aboard an ill-fated airliner) to family and love. They also cover the senses – sight, taste, touch, hearing – in luxuriant, almost sensuous words and concepts.

From “In Your Dream:”

i.

I was the wind
that knocked at the glass, that tipped
the candle that burned the kitchen;
all that remained was a golden fork.

ii.

I was the sound
of shattering, of gold
chattering amidst the wild
wild flames.

Or try this untitled poem:

I have heard
they harvest wild rice
by hand,
bending stems
that rise from waters,
knocking them
for chocolate
seed.

(And now say both poems out loud.)

I read InsideOut twice, and the second time was almost overwhelming. These are beautiful, luminous poems, and I’m glad Barkat braved those snows. She’s given us a gift here, a great gift.

L.L. Barkat is a writer, a poet, a managing editor at the High Calling Blogs, an artist, a mother and a wife, among a lot of other things. She’s the author of Stone Crossings: Finding Grace in Hard and Hidden Places. Every other Friday, L.L. publishes a “Random Act of Poetry” in which she highlights the work of various writers and poets. She’s also one of the three founders of TweetSpeakPoetry.

A few days ago, we learned that her poems would be published by the International Arts Movement in a collection entitled InsideOut. This poem, “When Morning Comes,” is one of the poems that will be included in that collection.

L.L.Barkat

http://www.twitter.com/llbarkat

http://seedlingsinstone.blogspot.com/

http://insideoutpoems.blogspot.com/

When Morning Comes

I open my mouth and breathe the day,
wish for a kiss like the one this golden
trumpet of jewelweed is getting full
on the mouth. Furry bumblebee embraces

her like there’s no tomorrow. And I remember
to hold the moment because it’s true, there may not
be a morning after. And this is why I pause when
rusty shovel unearths rotted pit, peach long gone,

her hope for progeny emptied but now home to
red ants, tiny thousands pouring forth like honey,
spilling onto cocoa shells newly lain beneath
the hyssop, soft pink and pungent. Now I trouble

the bronze-suited honeybee who is fumbling Russian
Sage, tickling her purply-blue tongues, riding her
shining silver leaves that curl in rainbowed mist.
Shall I forget the three-leafed maple fragment red

upon the stair, its green seeds like outstretched arms
now blushing dusty rose? Let me not forget these
seeds, nor the catbird who delights to echo each
whine of my clipping shears, nor the Bible leaf

relieved of yellow flower but fragrant still when I
break a spear and press it to my face. Let me not forget
the white carnation, purple aster, and the stars who
shut their eyes and sleep when morning comes.

Copyright 2009 L.L. Barkat. All Rights Reserved. Used with Permission.

Today on her blog, L.L. Barkat posted four possible covers for her book of poems, and then casually mentioned that her poems were going to be published by the International Arts Movement.

In journalism class, we called that backing into the lead.

This needs a SHOUT OUT – one of our fellow Tweet Partiers is getting her poems published! This is a BIG DEAL, L.L.! CELEBRATE! This calls for CHAMPAGNE and CHOCOLATE, at least of the virtual kind.

So check out her post – see the great covers displayed there – and congratulate our friend.

On Notice of “To Be Published”

These words from stones, //From a life lived,  // From bits of data,  //Infinitesimally small, // To pages shed by woods, // Cycled and recycled to use // For beauty, // Encouragement, // Inspiration; // To help us see // What is there, // And to savor the life  // Of the // Infinitesimally // Large.