Inspiration

It has been very hot here, thus the refreshing fountain, which also applies to today’s topic.

I read two poems last Friday at the open mic at RHINO Reads at Brothers K coffeehouse in Evanston, IL. About ten of us read (roughly 4 minutes each), followed by the two featured poets.

I am intrigued by how creativity inspires or “primes the pump” for further creative endeavors. Like writing or art or dance or architecture, etc.… opening a door to a new poem or photograph for me.

The origin of first poem is self-explanatory. Ralph Hamilton is a great guy who MCs the monthly readings. A bit of a risk reading a poem for someone who was there. But I gave him a heads up when I sent him an earlier version of the poem last week. Bravely, (or kindly) he did not discourage me from reading it.

The second poem is a reflection on the healing power of art inspired by Woman Made Gallery in Chicago. Beate Minkovski is the co-founder and executive director. I have been a member there for years and I never leave without feeling energized.

What inspires you?

6/9/11

In Response to Ralph Hamilton

(inspired by a Rhino blog entry on what he looks for in poetry)

Let me gently read aloud
your razor words back to you
so you will hear and see and feel what I do
what is true and not true.

So you can step outside
the mind creating
and be immersed in creation,
be swept away swimming.

You are unworthy you say
self-absorbed, lonely, even lazy.
Yet what you dared to write
sings louder to me than words.

Be kind, outside the familiar
voice of harsh critical judging,
reflecting on how far from
the intent is the attempt.

Be generous, as if you were someone else,
believe your words bravely written
have something essential to say to someone,
open long-closed channels, move immovable mountains,

expose exquisite unique facets.
Poetry is big enough you say
for differences to grate or soothe or rouse.
There is no success or failing,

there is no measuring up to
what might have been, if only…
There is only this:
life, full, repressed, expressed.

And a container, hopeful bowl of cherries,
even pitted, may still contain pits.
Risk a bruised or broken tooth
for the tart sweetness and abundant juice.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2011

(These two evocative photos were taken at Eyes Wide Open, Beyond Fear–Towards Hope: An Exhibition on the Human Cost of the Iraq War in Grant Park, Chicago, IL, May, 2007

2/27/07

Thinking of Beate

Sometimes art heals
by soothing, sometimes
by lancing the boil, or
by opening the eyes
to fresh possibilities.

Sometimes it closes a door
to a room filled with stale air,
sometimes screams
from a dark bottomless pit,
sometimes presents
wonder on a silver platter.

Sometimes art compels to look,
sometimes can barely look;
the healing subtle
or heart pounding,

one fully present moment
resounding over the ages.
All I am telling you is this:
there is no doubt art heals.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2007

Let Us Remember


More natural disasters have come since the huge earthquake in Japan, so this poem could also apply, for example, to those in Joplin, Missouri, who suffered a huge tornado last week that wiped out most of their city  (50,000 people), winds over 200 mph and many dead, wounded, or missing. Their Medical Center looks like a bomb hit it. So this poem below is for them too. On this Memorial weekend of remembering soldiers (and their families) who sacrificed, let us remember all the lost. And do what we can. We are all connected.

4/14/11

Remember Japan

post-earthquake

Now is the time to help
those who have been forgotten
whose earth swallowed
their homes and
whose sea washed their bodies away

And now who are off the front page
out of public consciousness
reduced to silence except for
radiation upgrades and occasional aftershocks
and back page human interest

Yet starving in masses, scanning rubble
that had been neighborhoods for anything familiar
Painful to imagine
But the stories, if any, buried where
few might read and be moved to action

Now is the time to help
put out a hand, a prayer, a dollar, a kindness
Anything…
Everything matters
to those who have nothing

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2011

On Being a Mother and a Daughter

Expressing the essence of being a mother, a line often comes to mind from my poem, “After You Left” in Letting Go and New Beginnings  (For entire poem see post 37 on 3-29-11 )

“Constantly
I am watching out for you.
Even when I am not watching,
I am watching.”

“Even when I am not watching, I am watching…” Even when I need my own life, I gather my “chicks” now grown, under my wing. I can’t help it. Even if I struggle for balance and need to take better care of myself, if they need me, I want to be there for them.

What is the most important thing we want to teach our children? How do we free them to go out and live their lives fully? How do we transition to a more adult level relationship with our offspring, the foundation for the rest of our lives? How clearly can our children ever see us as real people?

Here is another poem about being a mother.

1/19/03

Upon Returning Home

From birth
letting go

and letting go,
letting go.

If I have taught you anything
let it be this:

kindness.
Striving, yes

but be generous.
I let you go

and heal from the wound
and then you return

as promised
and gradually I adjust

and trust.
Then you leave

as I know you must
and I am filled with longing and sadness.

Letting go,
letting go

the greatest gift,
not to hold and define and smother,

but to see you writ large
by your own hand.

And I am always
your mother,

not a strange mythological creature
who tames dragons and rides unicorns,

but a woman
of flesh and bone.

Not frozen artistic perfection,
a marble statue unchanging, beautiful,

but a work in progress,
the same as you.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2003

From  Letting Go and New Beginnings: A Mother’s Poetic Journey

As I wrote before, my mother-in-law, Rae, died in March. It felt very strange this first Mother’s Day without her. I kept thinking to remind my husband to call. It looked like my Mom might also be wrapping up her life, but she is strong in so many ways and she rallied. On Mondays after my voice lesson I call her. We both consciously treasure our wide-ranging conversations—for however long we have. (I sent her tulips.)  Two recent poems about her.

2/14/11

Valentine’s Day Conversation with Mom

Even close to the end,
eyesight failing,
words dropping out of her repertoire,
she looked to the west

over the building tops
from her apartment balcony
appreciating, savoring,
thoroughly enjoying a magnificent sunset,

full of vivid description
of the flaming band of clouds
that spanned the horizon,
filled with the grace of it, the joy.

And even a day later
would see it still in her mind’s eye
and tell her poet daughter
400 miles away, who could then
see it also…and enjoy…and write….

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2011

2/17/11

Mom

At some point
often a phone call in the night
and someone you love
is gone. Right now

all I’m saying
is the beginning of the end.
And if I cling to the notion,
the belief, that life is eternal,

still I am aware
it ends in this form
and there will be…soon…
one last hug, one last conversation.

As much as I try
not to think about it,
to be in the moment
where you still are,

still I cry softly
when I consider
you not being here.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2011

Retrograde: To Look Again


During much of this month (until April 23) the planet Mercury has appeared to be going backwards in the sky (an optical illusion). According to astrologers this is called a period of Mercury Retrograde, when life may seem less smooth, specifically with disruptions in communications. Generally not the best time to sign a major contract or buy a house, for example.

Whether you believe this Mercury retrograde business or not, there does seem to be a time of “shake-up” around that time, and people don’t like it. In a workshop I took years ago, the teacher said this was a time to do things that begin with “re”: Reflect, restore, rejuvenate, replenish, review, rest, relax, redo, renovate, etc. You get the idea. A time to look back, clear out and begin life fresh again. So I do not dread these times, when my computer or internet seems more likely to be off kilter, I try to take care of myself and clear off my desk (an ongoing challenge) and not take it personally. A great time to get a massage, take a walk, breathe deeply, do yoga, re-connect with old friends…

Here is a poem I began while getting a massage with Brigitte, thinking about restoration of body, mind, emotions and spirit.

Note: Khofu was a pharaoh in ancient Egypt. In 1954 a ship (solar barge) was discovered buried at the base of the great pyramid of Giza. The ship is held together by a sophisticated system of ropes stitched through holes in the planks.

4/6/11

During Retrograde
After Brigitte

From Jell-O or pudding
reconstitute a human

build muscle in lattice of bone
use ligament and tendon

to lash the boat together
like the great ship of Khofu

that lasted four thousand years and counting
Remake organs from blueprints

found in memories’ closet
that box on the top shelf never opened

but now essential
for restoration, renovation, revolution

The eyes of innocence, not naïve or wary
but open to beauty

The ears, the tongue fresh from the factory
brain, heart, programmed for compassion

Blood courses through the map
of newly laid arteries and veins

The pump begins again
Nerves reflexively control all motion

all manner of sensation
Cleansed of barnacles of tension

washed free of grime and lampblack
covering innate light

All in all, all is well
considering…

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2011

Happy Birthday, Alex!!