For Purity, poem by Larry D. Thomas

FOR PURITY
   in memory of Georgia O’Keeffe
by Larry D. Thomas

she dons jet-black
and takes her stance
before the canvas,
 
draping her heart
with the shadow
of a black cross.
 
She scours her mind
with cloudless
desert sky
 
and she waits
for the moon-like rising
of the flower,
 
the pelvis,
the cleansed,
sun-bleached skull.

“For Purity” appears in the collection Amazing Grace by Larry D. Thomas, Texas Review Press, 2001

PHOTO: Georgia O’Keeffe with painting, 1930, by Alfred Stieglitz, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C., Alfred Stieglitz Collection

These Blooms, poem by Larry D. Thomas

THESE BLOOMS
by Larry D. Thomas

in late
afternoon
so red

they hurt.
These blooms
of the hibiscus.

These wide-
open mouths
of sopranos

bleeding
from singing
the brilliant,

unbroken
high C’s
of these full

yet day-
long
lives.

“These Blooms” appears in Larry D. Thomas‘s collection Amazing Grace, Texas Review Press, 2001

Illustration: “Hibiscus,” watercolor by Carol Carter, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Larry D. Thomas, a member of the Texas Institute of Letters, was privileged to serve as the 2008 Texas Poet Laureate.  He has published twenty collections of poems, the most recent of which is Uncle Ernest (Virtual Artists Collective, Chicago, 2013).  His Larry D. Thomas: New and Selected Poems (TCU Press, 2008) was long-listed for the National Book Award.

Auguste Reading to Her Daughter, Painting by Mary Cassatt

We’d like to wish a very happy Mother’s Day to all the materfamiliases in the world — with a special tip of the hat to women who take time to read to their children.

You may have tangible wealth untold

Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold

Richer than I you can never be

I had a mother who read to me.

From “The Reading Mother” by STRICKLAND GILLILAN

Painting: “August Reading to Her Daughter” (1910) by Mary Cassat

The Mind Moves More Freely, Quote by Gustave Flaubert

“Doesn’t it seem to you,” asked Madame Bovary, “that the mind moves more freely in the presence of that boundless expanse, that the sight of it elevates the soul and gives rise to thoughts of the infinite and the ideal?” GUSTAVE FLAUBERT, Madame Bovary (1857)

Painting: “Young Woman at the Window, Sunset” by Henry Matisse (1921)

Great Poets of Catalogdom, New Yorker Cartoon by Roz Chast

Credit: Roz Chast, THE NEW YORKER, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Song on a May Morning, Poem by John Milton

SONG ON A MAY MORNING
by John Milton (1608-1674)

Now the bright morning star, day’s harbinger,

Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her

The flowery May, who from her green lap throws

The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.

Hail, bounteous May, that doth inspire

Mirth, and youth, and warm desire;

Woods and groves are of thy dressing,

Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing,

Thus we salute thee with our early song,

And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

##

Painting: “Flowers” by Andy Warhol (1970)

In the Month of May, Poem by Robert Bly

IN THE MONTH OF MAY
by Robert Bly

In the month of May when all leaves open,

I see when I walk how well all things

lean on each other, how the bees work,

the fish make their living the first day.

Monarchs fly high; then I understand

I love you with what in me is unfinished.
 
I love you with what in me is still

changing, what has no head or arms

or legs, what has not found its body.

And why shouldn’t the miraculous,

caught on this earth, visit

the old man alone in his hut?
 
And why shouldn’t Gabriel, who loves honey,

be fed with our own radishes and walnuts?

And lovers, tough ones, how many there are

whose holy bodies are not yet born.

Along the roads, I see so many places

I would like us to spend the night.

##

Painting: “Apple Blossoms I” by Georgia O’Keeffe (1930)

May, Poem by Jonathan Galassi

MAY
by Jonathan Galassi

The backyard apple tree gets sad so soon,   
takes on a used-up, feather-duster look   
within a week.
 
The ivy’s spring reconnaissance campaign   
sends red feelers out and up and down   
to find the sun.
 
Ivy from last summer clogs the pool,   
brewing a loamy, wormy, tea-leaf mulch   
soft to the touch
 
and rank with interface of rut and rot.
The month after the month they say is cruel   
is and is not.

…From NORTH STREET, a collection of poems by Jonathan Galassi, available at Amazon.com.

Painting: “Apple tree blooming in late spring” by Steve Kuzma, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

May, Poem and Drawing by Maurice Sendak

MAY
by Maurice Sendak

In May I think it truly best
to be a robin lightly dressed
concocting soup inside my nest
Mix it once, mix it twice,
mix that chicken soup with rice.

…From CHICKEN SOUP WITH RICE: A Book of Months by Maurice Sendak, available at Amazon.com.

Novel Texting, New Yorker Cartoon by Mick Stevens

Caption: If he doesn’t go nuts first, he’ll be the first person to ever write a novel on a cell phone.

CREDIT: New Yorker cartoon by Mick Stevens, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED