Tag: poems

The Scarcity Mindset

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A flock of birds bunches, and then makes a sudden dash

through the space over the highway.

Below are swirls of dust from the dried-out mud of the farm trucks.

I close the vents to keep it out of my car.

Are you trying to get what you need from other people, out of their scarcity?

All our dust-fields are lined up beside one another.

We dibble little empires in them.

Perhaps, if you take pinches of dust from the fields around yours, you can build a city,

impressive miniature dust-houses for the pill bugs to goggle at,

because you have forsaken the Lord.

Why do I make it sound so easy, you demand?

Where even is this spring of living water?

It’s right there, actually, but we don’t want that one.

We want abundance, but not like that.

To My Fellow Olds

On By Jennifer Mugrage2 Comments

Come, do the things that fortify your legs.

Come, listen to the rock songs of your youth.

With age comes suffering, and dread; and truth

does not delay, no matter how one begs.

Come, don’t explain how recently it was

your land corrupted, and its towers fell.

Each generation passes through its hell

brought on by unforeseen, though hoary, cause.

Come, shush your body; do not let it speak.

A war-time traitor’s never given place.

Childhood takes up an endless, rounded space;

just for these narrow footsteps are we weak.

This threshold’s fiery, dim, and rotting grey;

We step across it, home, to endless day.

The Horizon is Tougher Than That

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It began as a beautiful field,

then became a dusty lot, then

a rapidly rising skeleton to

which insects trundled, their

headlights glowing in the dusk. Now it’s a shiny dull something, a

warehouse or machine shed.

You’d think it would block the horizon, but no.

The horizon is tougher than that, and springs back into place.

You could build a hundred of these warehouse things and not fill up the big sky.

So don’t worry.

It’s Time Again for my Favorite Latin Christmas Carol

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Adeste fideles, laeti triumphantes

“O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant”

Venite, venite in Bethlehem

“Come, come into Bethlehem”

Natum videte, regem angelorum

“Born see, the king of angels”

Venite adoremus [3x]

“O come, let us adore him” [3x]

Dominum

“The Lord”

Deum de Deo, lumen de lumine

“God from God, light from light” *(these are direct objects, so the subject and verb are coming up)

Gestant puellae viscera

“A girls’ innards carry” (the subject and verb, and by far my favorite line)

Deum verum

“True God” (and still the direct object)

genitum non factum

“Begotten, not made”

Refrain: Venite adoremus, Dominum “O come, let us adore/The Lord”

Cantet nunc io, chorus angelorum

“Now sings it, the chorus of angels”

Cantet nunc aula caelestium

“Now the heavenly court sings”

Gloria, gloria in excelsis Deo

“Glory, glory to God in the highest”

Refrain: “O come, let us adore/The Lord”

Ergo qui natus die hodierna

“Therefore, who is born on the day of today”

Jesu, tibi sit gloria

“Jesus, to you be glory”

Patris aeterni Verbum caro factum

“Word of the eternal Father made flesh”

Refrain

See how the Latin is actually more direct/efficient than the English? Kind of shockingly so?

I think because the original Latin version had so many syllables, to translate the lines into English, additional words had to be added, and sometimes even new ideas such as “Yea, Lord, we greet thee,” which is how the fourth verse begins in English and is one of my favorite lines in that version.

And there was also a daughter

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And there was also a daughter.

She drops out of the story very early, sacrificed

for good winds on the way to Troy.

But her mother’s revenge has made history.

And there was also a daughter

cursed to foresee the destruction of the city,

as daughters often do,

and no one believed her.

And there was also a daughter,

kidnapped (seduced?) by Shechem,

avenged (destroyed?) by her brothers,

a single chapter in Genesis.

And there was also a prophet,

a man too young to know what women suffer–

yet He did, somehow.

Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace.

I was expecting it to be heavy

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I was expecting it to be heavy

but it was aluminum, not steel.

I pushed with my foot,

and it slid easily,

and I stood there foolish,

not having had to call upon any strength.

I was expecting it to be heavy, but

–my God–not this heavy,

one of those tasks that it’s impossible to stop

even when repeated failure is guaranteed.

I was expecting it to be heavy,

and it was,

but I can hardly remember now

how somehow it moved when I pushed,

as if someone else was also pushing.

His yoke is easy and His burden is light.

A Peek Inside the Author’s Mind

On By Jennifer Mugrage3 Comments

So, this post may only apply to those of you who have read and/or enjoyed my books … or to fellow fiction-writers who like to talk about the writing process. Others can bow out now, no hard feelings.

I’ve heard that some writers create a “mood board” or a collection of images or media that give a feel for how they want their book to be, when they are building their world. I don’t do that, because I kind of do worldbuilding and plot discovery more or less at the same time, as an iterative process. It’s usually not until I am deep into the draft (or at the end) that the theme of the book emerges.

Nevertheless, with all three of the books in my trilogy, as I neared the end of the drafting, a song or a poem floated up to the surface that seemed perfectly to capture the emotional tone of the book or the experience of a main character. Here they are:

For The Long Guest, it was this poem by Emily Dickinson:

My life closed twice before its close–

It yet remains to see

If immortality unveil

A third event to me

So huge, so hopeless to conceive

As these that twice befell.

Parting is all we know of heaven,

And all we need of hell.

This poem, obviously, represents Zillah’s experience in a much more succinct way.

For The Strange Land, as I wrote about Ikash’s difficult child and teen years and eventual redemption, I was haunted by this hymn:

“She hath suffered many a day / Now her griefs have passed away.”

Ikash is not unique. His story in some sense happens to everyone.

As I wrote The Great Snake, I realized that the dilemma Klee finds herself in was perfectly captured by this Bryan Duncan song:

And … as for the book I am currently drafting … no data

Update: The official mind-worm for The Bright World is Why Not Me? by the Judds.

How about you, fellow writers? How does your mind work? Do you often have media serendipitously match your book as you are writing it?

Readers, do you get a relevant song or quote stuck in your head as you are reading?

Things We Write to our Friends

On By Jennifer Mugrage2 Comments

Hey. It’s been too long. We should get coffee some time. Yes, of course I’ll be in your wedding–jealous! Did you hear, I’m engaged too. You’re getting married? Better be careful–it’s risky, you know. Congratulations on the birth of your child. Here are some pictures of mine. Did you hear, our mutual friends are getting divorced. How awful. So much of it happening now. How can we help them? How can I help you? Thanks, it’s a lot better now, but boy, things were rough for a while. I’m sorry about your father, your mother, your cousin. I’m sorry your son died.