This evening, I'm hosting my book club. Elena Passarello's Animals Strike Curious Poses. Ro-tel Dip. Soup. Maybe pizza. Good friends. Laughter and good conversation.
I have papers to grade. Poems to write. A midterm exam to create. A poetry workshop to plan. And, of course, Saint Marty's Day to prepare for.
To get you in the Saint Marty's Day mood, a Classic Saint Marty from a year ago . . .
October 4, 2016: Saint Marty's Day Eve, Tapioca, "'Twas the Night Before Saint Marty's Day"
Allow me to put aside Annie Dillard on this Saint Marty's Day Eve to
share one of the most famous Saint Marty's Day poems ever written. Get
that tapioca made and those presents wrapped. It's almost time to raise
your cups of Diet Mountain Dew in honor of Saint Marty.
'Twas the night before Saint Marty's Day, when all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes that Saint Marty soon would be there.
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes that Saint Marty soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of tapioca danced in their heads.
And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
had just settled our brains for a long autumn's nap.
while visions of tapioca danced in their heads.
And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
had just settled our brains for a long autumn's nap.
When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash.
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen leaves
gave the lustre of midday to shadows by the eaves,
when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a cheerful, saintly figure, full of good cheer.
gave the lustre of midday to shadows by the eaves,
when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a cheerful, saintly figure, full of good cheer.
With a laugh so infectious, so lively and hardy,
I knew in a moment it must be Saint Marty.
More rapid than eagles, his coursers he came,
and he whistled and shouted and called saintly names:
I knew in a moment it must be Saint Marty.
More rapid than eagles, his coursers he came,
and he whistled and shouted and called saintly names:
"Now Peter! Now John!
Now, Francis and Paul!
On, Theresa! On, Bernadette!
On good old John Paul!
To the top of the porch!
To the top of the wall!
Now bless away! Bless away!
Bless one and all!"
Now, Francis and Paul!
On, Theresa! On, Bernadette!
On good old John Paul!
To the top of the porch!
To the top of the wall!
Now bless away! Bless away!
Bless one and all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
so up to the house-top the coursers he flew,
looking like Brad Pitt, and George Clooney, too.
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
so up to the house-top the coursers he flew,
looking like Brad Pitt, and George Clooney, too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard up above me
Saintly feet walking and dancing, so help me.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down the chimney Saint Marty came with a bound.
Saintly feet walking and dancing, so help me.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down the chimney Saint Marty came with a bound.
He was dressed all in black, from his head to his foot,
and his clothes were all dusted with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his shoulders,
and he looked like a vision--a good, Christian soldier.
and his clothes were all dusted with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his shoulders,
and he looked like a vision--a good, Christian soldier.
His eyes--how they sparkled! His smile, how white!
His face, so angelic this Saint Marty's night!
His demeanor was gentle, peaceful and quiet,
he looked so handsome that he could cause a riot.
His halo and wings shone in the moonlight,
his robe was like snow, brilliantly bright.
He raised his hands in a blessing, filled with such grace
that even the pope would hang his head in disgrace.
His demeanor was gentle, peaceful and quiet,
he looked so handsome that he could cause a riot.
His halo and wings shone in the moonlight,
his robe was like snow, brilliantly bright.
He raised his hands in a blessing, filled with such grace
that even the pope would hang his head in disgrace.
He was pleasant and smart, a saintly good fellow,
and I laughed when I saw him, and offered him Jell-O.
But a wink of his eye and a shake of his head
soon gave me to know he wanted tapioca instead.
and I laughed when I saw him, and offered him Jell-O.
But a wink of his eye and a shake of his head
soon gave me to know he wanted tapioca instead.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
and filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to the roof, and took to the wind,
I watched him with awe ascend and ascend.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he flew out of sight,
I watched him with awe ascend and ascend.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he flew out of sight,
"Happy Saint Marty's Day to all, and to all a good night!"
And another poem for this afternoon, on this book club day . . .
On My Son's Future
by: Martin Achatz
I meet with his future
Teachers today, a man, a woman,
To decide how we will
Mold him into something
Acceptable, a straight “A”
Football player valedictorian
Who will speak without
Sibilance or stutter,
Will eat brussel sprouts
Without glottal gag
Or plosive retch,
Will recite the alphabet,
Count to one hundred,
Name the bones of the hand
Before kindergarten,
Memorize Lincoln’s
Gettysburg Address for kicks,
Recite it on the playground
As he lobs the ball
Over the fence, takes
His victory lap around
The bases as the other
Boys glare with envy,
The girls admire
His easy, confident
Gait that will carry
Him through high school,
Into college on scholarship,
Medical school on fellowship,
Johns Hopkins, onto missionary
Work where he’ll discover
The cure for some
As yet unknown disease
Decimating sub-Saharan
Africa, for which he’ll
Win the Nobel Prize
For Medicine, thank me
In his acceptance speech
For the choices I make
Today, for asking
Whether he will get
A nap in the afternoon
Next year.
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