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| Detail from “The School of Athens” a fresco by Raphael (1483 – 1520) [Click image to call up all published instalments] |
For National Poetry Month in April, I have been putting together origami poetry booklets that I will be handing out in various locations around Mid-Missouri.
I revived a title I used while with the Poetry Society of Indiana (formerly the Indiana State Federation of Poetry Clubs) for a booklet in 2007. For that project I cut a pomegranate in half, then took a very low-resolution photo. We called the booklet “Poemegranate,” and it included the creative efforts of 11 poets from around the state.
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| The original “Poemegranate” |
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| The invitation inside its cover |
This time I used my own poetry for the two little booklets. Only one of them actually features a picture of a Pomegranate. The other features a photograph shared on Moristotle & Co. in “A Turkey Buzzard Thanksgiving” (November 23, 2022).
Each is made from one sheet of paper folded up to create a cover page and seven other pages. “Poemegranate: The Wanderer” includes poems that have appeared here. “Poemegranate: Drama” uses poems that were flash-created in posts to social media. Both include a poem that requires the reader to unfold the paper to reveal it.
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| The origami folding process |
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| Comparison of a standard playing card with a booklet |
During the month of April I will be handing out copies of both in several locations. I am hoping to have other poets join me in celebrating the craft and encouraging others to read, write, and share poetry. It should be a lot of fun!
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| First batch of 25 each |
Today’s poem is the one revealed in the second booklet described above. It was inspired by the following image:
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| Thanks to Shawn Duren for permission to use his photograph |
Ghosts of the Allagash
There are no rails
around the bend,
no passengers
waiting along the platform
of some small-town depot,
checking their watches
against the clock on the wall,
the schedule on the board,
no mailbags
filled with love and news
bound for all points east,
the intimate details
left out of telegrams.
There are no freight boxes
waiting on a siding,
no tankers or flatcars,
no cabooses
with off-duty engineers,
worn and sooty firemen.
The fires have all grown cold,
smokestacks backfill
with the midnight air,
rust trails show the path
of previous rains
as they trickled down
collecting the tanks full
for the 3:30 to Millinocket
departing on the eighth of never.
The darkness passes,
the daylight comes,
goes again to dusk
while only the winds blow,
the shadows move
and time passes
on the big clock,
ghosts of engineers
checking their pocket watches
to keep the train on schedule.
| Copyright © 2023 by Maik Strosahl Michael E. Strosahl has focused on poetry for over twenty years, during which time he served a term as President of the Poetry Society of Indiana. He relocated to Jefferson City, Missouri, in 2018 and currently co-hosts a writers group there. |
Maik, thank you for your email informing me that my copies of your Poemegranate booklets are in the mail!
ReplyDeleteMaik, my mail today included your envelope with the two origami booklets and your note, “Hope you enjoy!”
DeleteI DO enjoy, VERY MUCH! An inspired undertaking, such fun!
Your note also alerted me to the alteration of the first line of the final stanza of “Ghosts of the Allagash,” from
“ghosts of engineers”
to
“ghosts of conductors past”
THANK YOU!
Glad you enjoyed! And yes, I did make that edit to your copy since the copier jammed and messed up one. I used engineer on a previous stanza and thought the sound needed more than just the word conductor. Always editing. Any further copies made will have that change, but you were the first!
ReplyDelete“Always editing” – that’s what we editors love to hear, and we wish all writers did more self-editing before handing their writing over to their editor.
Delete