So mesmerizing to my ear, not only the perfectly natural balance between meter and spoken language, and the "low-angled" burden of significance -- but with those mid-line falls of stress on slant echoes like fragrance and language, senses and express. Thank you.
Thank you, Sally, for sharing this lovely tribute to your friend and fellow poet. I have not read much of her work, but have enjoyed what I've seen. Such work seems that it must come from someone who loved life and the Lord very much. I love this little poem, which makes me think of Kansas, where I grew up, and the last line -- "loss and bliss come from the same root" -- yes, oh, yes. To Mr. Luptak, if you see this, God comfort and bless you as you look to the day when all our tears will be dried in His presence.
About Jane Greer: I too only learned of her from her passing--Micah Mattix had some wonderful words and another wonderful poem. It was enough for me to immediately order The World As We Know It...
And second, about today's poem itself: I think the proper sonnet form would have served her better. While the repeated "language" in lines 6 and 7 is functional it asks for perhaps some distance, some differing restatement. Instead the repetition limits "language" turning it into something of a linking idea. But that drone of late harvest, the unspoken bitter words that are always said but rarely heard--there's a murmur here of language, a grammar that ends with that mumbling, the mix of loss and bliss. There is something there, too, in that simultaneity, that hints of a sacramental view.
Somehow Jane and I became Facebook friends at some point. I remember she commented on a few of my posts. I felt we were kindred spirits. We had poetry and North Dakota in common, although city bred, I lived in that part of the world for about four years. I was greatly impressed she had made a name for herself while living in Bismarck! I loved that she was only seven years younger than me and had white hair and a plump face. Trivial reasons to love a fine writer you don't know, perhaps. But there it was. I love the quotes you include about how she said you can't call a piece of writing a sonnet just because it has fourteen lines.
And this: "Through history, the best poetry has used certain conventions: meter, rhyme, alliteration, assonance, painstaking attention to diction. Not all good poems use all of these conventions, but if a poem uses none of them, why call it a poem?"
And how she so plainly described the poetry in America in the early 1980s, as “random thoughts randomly written."
It's good you got to be friends with her in real life! Thanks for this sweet and comforting memoir.
Jim, you have been constantly in my prayers. I think Jane would have been overwhelmed (and a little astonished) to know how many people loved her, and how much they loved her --- she was a fine poet and a remarkable and irreplaceable person. I am so grateful to have known her.
Well, so do I! Another friend of mine has a crown of triolets at the center of her first book, and I think they're absolutely marvelous. But I thought Jane's little triolet swipe at the triolet was too well done (she had posted it on Twitter, and I need to re-supply the link, which I accidentally edited out) and too funny not to share here.
My condolences on the loss of your friend. But what bliss to read your sad and moving tribute. I'll search out her work. Thank you.
So mesmerizing to my ear, not only the perfectly natural balance between meter and spoken language, and the "low-angled" burden of significance -- but with those mid-line falls of stress on slant echoes like fragrance and language, senses and express. Thank you.
Thank you, Sally, for sharing this lovely tribute to your friend and fellow poet. I have not read much of her work, but have enjoyed what I've seen. Such work seems that it must come from someone who loved life and the Lord very much. I love this little poem, which makes me think of Kansas, where I grew up, and the last line -- "loss and bliss come from the same root" -- yes, oh, yes. To Mr. Luptak, if you see this, God comfort and bless you as you look to the day when all our tears will be dried in His presence.
About Jane Greer: I too only learned of her from her passing--Micah Mattix had some wonderful words and another wonderful poem. It was enough for me to immediately order The World As We Know It...
And second, about today's poem itself: I think the proper sonnet form would have served her better. While the repeated "language" in lines 6 and 7 is functional it asks for perhaps some distance, some differing restatement. Instead the repetition limits "language" turning it into something of a linking idea. But that drone of late harvest, the unspoken bitter words that are always said but rarely heard--there's a murmur here of language, a grammar that ends with that mumbling, the mix of loss and bliss. There is something there, too, in that simultaneity, that hints of a sacramental view.
Somehow Jane and I became Facebook friends at some point. I remember she commented on a few of my posts. I felt we were kindred spirits. We had poetry and North Dakota in common, although city bred, I lived in that part of the world for about four years. I was greatly impressed she had made a name for herself while living in Bismarck! I loved that she was only seven years younger than me and had white hair and a plump face. Trivial reasons to love a fine writer you don't know, perhaps. But there it was. I love the quotes you include about how she said you can't call a piece of writing a sonnet just because it has fourteen lines.
And this: "Through history, the best poetry has used certain conventions: meter, rhyme, alliteration, assonance, painstaking attention to diction. Not all good poems use all of these conventions, but if a poem uses none of them, why call it a poem?"
And how she so plainly described the poetry in America in the early 1980s, as “random thoughts randomly written."
It's good you got to be friends with her in real life! Thanks for this sweet and comforting memoir.
Lovely poem. Am truly sorry not to have read any of JG's poetry before last week's news.
Loss followed by bliss can happen. Beautiful poem, for a sad farewell.
Wonderful poem and commentary. Requiescat in pace, Jane Greer.
From you and Micah Mattox I've learned of Jane Greer for the first time. Wow! Great poet -- her own voice and subjects. Thank you!
Thank you, Sally, for this beautiful remembrance of my wife, Jane Greer. I am writing this with tears in my eyes.
Jim Luptak
Jim, you have been constantly in my prayers. I think Jane would have been overwhelmed (and a little astonished) to know how many people loved her, and how much they loved her --- she was a fine poet and a remarkable and irreplaceable person. I am so grateful to have known her.
Thank you for this poem, this tribute, and your memories of Jane!
I remember persuading Jane on Twitter that Hopkins was justified in calling his "curtal sonnets" sonnets!
A lovely person, and a fine poet. I'm so sorry for your loss, Sally.
What a lovey poem and memorial to your friend. I am sorry for your loss. Thank you for introducing me to Jane Greer and Plains Poetry Journal.
I must disagree with her on one point: I quite like triolets myself.
Well, so do I! Another friend of mine has a crown of triolets at the center of her first book, and I think they're absolutely marvelous. But I thought Jane's little triolet swipe at the triolet was too well done (she had posted it on Twitter, and I need to re-supply the link, which I accidentally edited out) and too funny not to share here.
That would be Anna Lewis’s crown in Memory’s Abacus, right?
Yes! It’s a remarkable achievement. I admire those poems so much.
Yes, I sent a copy of it to two of my friends with whom I perpetrated a triolet in praise of limericks and limericks about triolets.
And yes, Erdemtem, I like triolets too!