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August Rain: Introduction (and a bit of spiny poetry)

By Seth Haines 47 Comments

The heartland is ablaze.

The five-o’clock news anchor tells us that Tower Mountain was kissed by lightning, that it went up like a harvest bonfire before emergency crews responded. “There have been more than 1, 000 wildfires in Arkansas this year, ” he says, “mostly in rural portions of the state.” He makes some awkward Smokey the Bear PSA about cigarette butts and camp fires, but I cannot imagine smoking in this heat — the clock at Pulaski Bank read 113 last Wednesday — and campfires are surely out of the question.

I look out the window at my browning summer garden. I’m running a deficit of national proportions to keep it watered. We haven’t had good rain in this part of the state since late June, and I suspect we won’t see any until September. The sun is sucking the life out of the heartland. In a more dramatic moment, I might mention John Steinbeck.

In seasons like this, I wish we could conjure rain. The Zuni, the Cherokee, tribes in East Africa, certain Eastern Europeans, they all had rainmaking rituals centered around dance. I suspect these traditions are ancient, fraught with meaning and complex.

I neither dance, nor am I ancient; I lament this. Instead of dancing, I stare from the window and dream of rain, how it comes in Autumn like an old earth-lover to germinate the fall seedlings. It pitter-patters on the tin roof of the carport, builds to a crescendo like miniature drums. Droplets splatter onto the old stone walk way, slide off into the dust of the earth leaving snaky trails until they are received into the waiting ground. Earthworms rise from the deep in a greeting, and robins swing from their waiting branches to feast.

All nature waits for rain.

I can’t dance, so I look to my bookcase remembering Glynn Young’s spine poetry piece and I figure on a different kind of conjuring. From the spines of the books compose a sort of cento:

Faraway Home

The Ceremonies
of longing (above
the river, the road)
cry.

The beloved country,
crude world, great.
With child, epic
love.

In the driest season things
fall apart–the Republic,
stone crossings, touching
wonder.

A river runs. Through
it, mercy rising. Faraway
home, the sun also
rises.

Rain on me holy.
The firm shadow
of Heaven,
miracles.

As I finished, a clap of thunder shakes the field. The sky opens up and I watch as the Italian zucchini leaves are pelted by precipitation. Perhaps it’s coincidence. After all, I’m no old-world conjurer. But then again?

Tweetspeak’s August Rain Project.

This month’s found poem theme at Tweetspeak is Rain. We’re compiling poems touching on the subject (no matter how loosely), and we’d love you to join with is. How do you participate?

1.  This month, we will take our cues from book spines (see Glynn’s piece for more information). Look through your personal collection, the aisles at your local bookstore, or your neighbor’s bookcase and grab a few titles.

2.  Arrange a poem completely from words on book spines, or use pieces of the titles to create your own found poem. Make sure your poems touch on themes of rain or water.

3. Tweet your poems (and pictures of the book spines) to us. Add a #tsrain hashtag so we can find it and maybe share it with the world.

4. If you aren’t a twitter user, leave your found poem here in the comment box (we’ll use our mind’s eye to imagine your book spines).

5.  Each week we’ll share a few of the poems. At the end of the month, we’ll choose a winning poem and ask the winner to record his or her poem to be featured in one of our upcoming Weekly Top 10 Poetic Picks.

And speaking of winners, last month’s Mosaic winner was Grace Marcella Brodhurst-Davis.  In “Change” she wrote:

She clacks and clatters
down hardened, dusty way,
hundreds of tiny seeds
spilling by her sway.
Strings of multicolored beads
encircle her weary neck,
muscled by heavy, hand-woven
basket, plopped atop her cinta,
worn like a million women before her.
She barters harvested maize
and the woman still at the conveyor belt,
whose fingers nudge factory-punched
gold medals that stray,
negotiates an exchange.
Her deal made -a fair trade.
Grinning, her teeth like chiclets,
at loggers moving big rigs
with mechanical arms
on her way home.
The universe has made its preparations,
swirling pigments of the old with
so-called new world.

Congratulations, Grace! We look forward to featuring your poem in an upcoming Top Ten Poetic Picks.

Now, go generate a new work and come back here and rain it on us!

Photo (top) by gogoloopie, Creative Commons via Flickr. Post and book spine photo by Seth Haines. 

___________

Buy a year of Every Day Poems, just $5.99— Read a poem a day, become a better poet. In August we’re exploring the theme Rain.

Red #9

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Comments

  1. Megan Willome says

    August 6, 2012 at 1:21 pm

    Great poem! I noticed several of the titles (but not all!) before I read the spines.

    Reply
    • Seth Haines says

      August 6, 2012 at 1:29 pm

      This was a really fun exercise. It takes a little time and a bit of creative manipulation of punctuation, but I found it to be a really fun prompt.

      Thanks for reading. Let us know what you create!

      Reply
  2. Darrelyn Saloom says

    August 6, 2012 at 5:18 pm

    Seth, it rained after you wrote your lovely piece for TS Poetry? Because it poured for weeks when I finished mine. Conjuring with words. Love it.

    Reply
    • Seth Haines says

      August 6, 2012 at 5:20 pm

      Yes… it was absolutely crazy. Unfortunately, it only fell for about 30 minutes. Maybe I should try again this evening?

      Reply
  3. Darcy @ Message in a Mason Jar says

    August 6, 2012 at 10:18 pm

    I was laughing a few weeks ago when we were doing our rain dance AFTER the rain instead of before. P.S. Beautiful book spine poem. My favorite part? Cry the Beloved Country is “lovely beyond any singing of it.”

    Reply
    • Seth Haines says

      August 7, 2012 at 9:47 am

      Maybe your post-rain dance was a sort of quantum moment? Try again and see what happens. OR… compose a book spine poem and see what happens. 🙂

      P.S. I love those words in Cry.

      Reply
  4. Grace Marcella Brodhurst-Davis says

    August 6, 2012 at 11:10 pm

    I enjoyed your article and poem, Seth! Loved the creative usage of punctuation in the poem too! Thanks for choosing my poem to be featured:)

    Reply
    • Seth Haines says

      August 7, 2012 at 9:48 am

      Well when you compose that kind of a poem? Grace… I really liked it. I could go on about the rhythm in it, but I’ll just leave it be for now.

      Hope you’ll jot a bit of a book spine poem and share it with us here!

      Reply
  5. Dave Malone says

    August 7, 2012 at 9:42 am

    I’m not altogether convinced you’re not an old-world conjurer. 🙂 Great piece, Seth.

    Reply
    • Seth Haines says

      August 7, 2012 at 9:51 am

      Maybe in another life? Thanks, Dave. And by the way, it looks like we live mere hours away from one another.

      Reply
      • Dave Malone says

        August 7, 2012 at 10:35 am

        You’re welcome. I’m in south central Missourah, just 30 miles north of the Arkansas border. Where are you, sir?

        Reply
        • Seth Haines says

          August 7, 2012 at 10:41 am

          I hold it down in NW Ark. Specifically Fayetteville. We say “woo pig” here, but we’re still quite civilized. Come down for the farmer’s market one Saturday and I’ll buy you a cup of joe. Thereafter, you can write a poem about the bluegrass bands with shaky cigarette stained fingers and shakier vibratos.

          Reply
          • Dave Malone says

            August 7, 2012 at 11:15 am

            LOL. Ah yes. My grandfather was born in West Fork, so I know the area a little bit. The farmer’s market, consider it done. 🙂

  6. Maureen Doallas says

    August 7, 2012 at 2:20 pm

    Salt Water Amnesia

    A thousand vessels
    jam the city in which I love you.

    Tell me
    I have tasted the apple.

    Tell me
    the captain lands in paradise
    where currents meet.

    ___________________

    Title: Jeffrey Skinner
    Poets, in order: Tania Runyon, Joe-Anne McLaughlin and Li_Young Lee, Kim Addonizzio, Mary Crow, Kim Addonizzio, Satah Manguso, Elizabeth Austen

    Reply
    • Seth Haines says

      August 8, 2012 at 9:33 am

      I love the images here. They seem epic.

      Reply
  7. Jody Lee Collins says

    August 7, 2012 at 2:41 pm

    from my small stack today
    in (no particular order)

    I wanted to write Poetry
    In the Power of His Presence
    (usually accompanied by living water—rain?)
    So I looked for
    A Way to Garden—
    Praying for a drop
    And possibly an
    Animal, Vegetable,
    Or Miracle.
    there I found
    One Thousand Gifts
    Looking at
    The Artist’s Way.

    a small attempt…but fun. Thank you!

    Reply
    • Seth Haines says

      August 8, 2012 at 9:34 am

      A great attempt! Keep them coming!

      Reply
  8. donna says

    August 8, 2012 at 7:25 pm

    what if
    the artists way
    brought us safely
    out of the woods?

    what if
    everything i need to know i learned in kindergarten?

    what if
    the places that scare you
    are where there is light?

    what if
    everybody wins?

    and
    what if
    we are all old world conjurers?

    what if?

    Reply
    • donna says

      August 8, 2012 at 7:45 pm

      Seth, I loved your piece, and I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed a wee bit because I couldn’t resist trying it on.

      Reply
      • donna says

        August 9, 2012 at 8:24 am

        reposted, with images and typos fixed, on my blog. http://thebrightersideblog.blogspot.com/2012/08/what-if-artists-way-brought-us-safely.html

        alas, there is no rain in mine, but I am determined to find some WET titles at the library!

        Reply
        • Seth says

          August 9, 2012 at 9:25 am

          Good work, Donna, and I never mind if you borrow a wee bit. We’re here to prompt!

          Thanks for playing along.

          Reply
  9. Casee says

    August 8, 2012 at 11:20 pm

    The World As I See It

    Us, gypsies, wanderers of the world.
    The sacred origins of profound things,
    the things they carried, forgotten.

    Magical beginnings, enchanted lives, separated.
    Seeking Utopia with the praise of folly.
    We exchange the living bible for fun with hand shadows.

    Like water for chocolate, the God of small things
    dispatches, from the war room, letters from the earth.
    Adventures in gentle discipline for an ageless body, timeless mind.

    For us, the birth of tragedy.
    Living on earth, the weeping woman, must learn
    the art of racing in the rain, struggling to touch the earth.

    Religions of the world, searching for God knows what,
    desire to be the know it all.
    The paradox of plenty, the death of common sense.

    The Alchemist,the reminding salt,
    Crossing the water,piece by piece,
    Nourishing traditions,

    Turning to one another: simple conversations to restore hope.
    You already know what to do.
    Eat, pray, love.

    Reply
    • Casee says

      August 8, 2012 at 11:43 pm

      I immediately saw things I would change after I posted. But I LOVED this prompt. This was a lot of fun. Thanks.

      Reply
    • Seth says

      August 9, 2012 at 9:28 am

      Casee, I really loved this line – “We exchange the living bible for fun with hand shadows.” It’s definitely a winner.

      I hope you keep playing along this month.

      Reply
  10. Casee says

    August 9, 2012 at 9:40 am

    Seth, I will. I actually thought of you and Amber when I wrote “the reminding salt.” And “turning to one another: simple conversations to restore hope” has you guys and group all over it. Y’all have sure felt like shining lights and ‘salt of the earth’ to me. 🙂

    Reply
  11. Daniel says

    August 11, 2012 at 11:03 pm

    Hey, here’s my book spine poem (photo here).

    Truth and Method

    Off the beaten track,
    the garbage eater
    at Lake Scugog
    refusing heaven
    bird by bird,
    being given
    the best of it—
    seeing the invisible
    God without being
    Paul.

    Reply
    • Seth Haines says

      August 15, 2012 at 10:15 pm

      “refusing heaven
      bird by bird…”

      Very well done.

      Reply
  12. LjDowns says

    August 13, 2012 at 11:57 pm

    Seth, I’ve really enjoyed your writing this month. Not just this article but the ones you’ve written since (I’m commenting here several days after this first posted because it’s taken me that long to craft my first poem!). TSPoetry will be blessed if you keep writing here.

    I hope I’ll have a chance to write at least one more, but here’s a crack at #tsrain

    http://bit.ly/NwJOBn

    Reply
    • Seth Haines says

      August 15, 2012 at 10:18 pm

      Thanks for the comment and I hope you keep coming around. I loved the creativity and effort you put into that piece. The result was very nice.

      And as an aside, All is Grace? That book wrecked me.

      Reply
  13. Sandra Heska King says

    August 15, 2012 at 9:50 am

    I haven’t fallen off the face of the earth. Yet.

    http://sandraheskaking.com/2012/08/behold-the-dawn-after-all-a-book-spine-poem/

    Reply
    • Seth Haines says

      August 15, 2012 at 10:20 pm

      Sandra,

      Great poem. You say a great deal through combining your book titles. I hope you keep dropping in here… hope you keep submitting.

      Thanks.

      Reply
  14. LjDowns says

    August 16, 2012 at 11:20 am

    A new poem on rain/water, here is the link:

    http://leahjoinerdowns.blogspot.com/2012/08/one-thousand-gifts.html

    One Thousand Gifts

    The night I fell from the sky,
    the dog star shone
    on a temple of trees; dovekeepers,
    they came from a lineage of grace.

    Where the red fern grows,
    wild apples lay on leaves of grass.
    A deer hears rumors of water,
    and follows the stone crossings home.

    The barn owl coos about the
    secret life of bees to an
    elegant gathering of white snows.

    Over the sounds and silences,
    the last coyote calls the
    song of the blood orange moons
    to the princes of the Milky Way.

    The Good Earth is a holy mount
    where every bush is burning.
    It is a moveable feast
    of bread and ashes,
    the thistle and the rose,
    and dawns mistaken for dusk.

    The night I fell from the sky,
    a dog star shone
    on a temple of trees; dovekeepers,
    they came from a lineage of grace.

    As I lay dying beneath
    a blossom rain,
    tender is the night.

    From across the ancient waters
    comes the weight of glory and
    the allure of hope, of necessary endings
    and final beginnings.

    Grand Weaver, whisper my name,
    of you my heart has spoken.

    Reply
  15. Monica Sharman says

    August 18, 2012 at 9:08 pm

    Love how you worked in Cry, the Beloved Country! One of my favorites. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read it.

    Reply
  16. Grace Marcella Brodhurst-Davis says

    August 18, 2012 at 10:33 pm

    Well, this was quite a workout for me since I had so many books to dig through! Yep, I’m a book hoarder:) Here’s the link to my poem (with pic of book spines):

    http://gracebrodhurstdavis.blogspot.com/2012/08/a-childhood-biography-of-place.html

    A Childhood: The Biography of a Place

    Belize…
    Unlike the wide Sargasso Sea
    (its fertile underground),
    lies in the seat of the soul
    No rumors, of water it abounds

    Its birds of paradise,
    the sounds of poetry
    in your dreams,
    belong to me

    My borderlands -la frontera
    The violent bear it away
    I taste the wine of astonishment
    Such free fire –a raisin in the sun

    Things fall apart at
    the dyer’s hand
    Brother, I’m dying
    I see the forgotten waltz

    The sugar solution:
    three cups of tea, as
    fair and tender ladies
    praisesong for the widow –Belize

    Little big minds rise above
    incidents in the life of a slave girl,
    member of the whipping club,
    in search of lost time

    A return to the native land
    through the book of awakening
    Geography III on the banks
    of Plum Creek -I’m freed

    A new dawn on rocky ridge
    opens the kingdom of this world within
    -not unlike a history of Latin America
    My childhood: A history of Belize

    Reply
  17. Mark Ettinger says

    August 31, 2012 at 11:55 pm

    June 2009
    ” Rain’s Symphony ” Mark Ettinger

    When I feel the rain upon my face
    I feel Your mercy and Your grace

    As the rain falls all around me
    The countless sounds surround me

    The sound of the rain’s symphony
    Lord, it’s Your majesty

    The leaves of the trees become instruments
    As the raindrops play their song
    A melody from Heaven, rains on and on and on

    The softest song I’ve ever heard
    Rain falling through the trees

    Unlike a song you can only hear
    God lets this song be seen

    The drops of rain that sound surreal
    A song that Heaven lets me feel

    As the rain falls all around me
    The countless music surrounds me

    The sound of the rain’s symphony
    Lord, Your melody rains upon me

    The most beautiful love song

    Reply

Trackbacks

  1. August Rain: Introduction (a Tweetspeak Poetry Piece) | Seth Haines says:
    August 6, 2012 at 9:50 am

    […] reading with me at Tweetspeak Poetry. Share this:EmailTwitterFacebookStumbleUponLike this:LikeBe the first to like this. This entry […]

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  2. For the Thirsty Writer in You | TweetSpeak Poetry says:
    August 7, 2012 at 6:31 pm

    […] August is Rain month here at Tweetspeak Poetry. So you’ll be treated to posts featuring Rain or Water, from some wonderful fiction and non-fiction writers, as well as poetry writing projects, like our Rain/Water Book Spine Poetry Project. […]

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  3. This Week’s Top Ten Poetic Picks | TweetSpeak Poetry says:
    August 9, 2012 at 8:02 am

    […] And while you’re glancing through some other introductions to get yourself started, be sure to look at the book spines. Maybe you’ll find a poem and play along with Seth Haines in the August Rain/Water Book Spine Poetry Project. […]

    Reply
  4. August Rain: The Decisive Moment | TweetSpeak Poetry says:
    August 13, 2012 at 8:13 am

    […] capturing your own decisive moment this week? This month’s found poem theme at Tweetspeak is Rain, and we’re using book spines as the prompt. In fact, today’s post was inspired by the […]

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  5. Behold the Dawn After All – A Book Spine Poem « Sandra Heska King says:
    August 15, 2012 at 9:49 am

    […] this spiney poem for Tweetspeak’s August Rain Project Share and Enjoy: Poetry, Uncategorized   book spine poetry, Poetry, Tweetspeak Poetry   […]

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  6. Spiny Poetry: A Poem (The World As I See It) « mysouliswater says:
    August 16, 2012 at 2:59 pm

    […] was a from a prompt over at tweetspeakpoetry.  Good stuff going on over there. Share this:TwitterFacebookLike this:LikeBe the first to like […]

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  7. August Rain: Stormy Weather | TweetSpeak Poetry says:
    August 20, 2012 at 8:16 am

    […] month’s found poem theme at Tweetspeak is Rain, and we’re using book spines (or CD spines) as the prompt. We’d love you to join with […]

    Reply
  8. I am the Rain | TweetSpeak Poetry says:
    August 21, 2012 at 8:40 am

    […] Until the sky opens, I’m going to have to learn nature’s cues, watching the soil darken and lighten, sensing when I need to add more water. […]

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  9. This Week’s Top Ten Poetic Picks | TweetSpeak Poetry says:
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  10. August Rain: Morose Mother Goose | TweetSpeak Poetry says:
    August 27, 2012 at 8:00 am

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  11. Seth Haines | August Rain: Introduction (a Tweetspeak Poetry Piece) says:
    March 8, 2013 at 10:44 am

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  12. This Week's Top Ten Poetic Picks - Tweetspeak PoetryTweetspeak Poetry says:
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