Category Archives: poetry

Celebrate Read-an-E-book Week


I have been a voracious reader since 4th grade. I’d enter the world of the book and just get lost in it, all time would disappear. I wouldn’t hear my Mom calling me for dinner. I loved books! I still read like that whenever I can. A year ago, I got a Nook for Christmas (recommended by my sister-in-law, Barbara). I am not a big tech person and it took me a little bit to get used to, but it was fun and I was determined to try.

Now, I prefer reading on my Nook. Truly. I love it! I have a clever case that allows me to prop the book up to read. More books take up no additional space, never get dusty, and I instantly get a new books if I want. I can adjust the font size and many other features. I’m just sayin’…  Whatever encourages reading must be a good thing, right?

This week, until March 10, is Read-an-E-book Week. Join the celebration by purchasing my latest book, Letting Go and New Beginnings. 50% off this week only!  Enter coupon code REW50 at checkout. Honest, insightful poetic story about the inevitable changing nature of relationships.  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/39211

(“Personal and universal…with words from the heart and… photographs that complement the words beautifully. I highly recommend this book.”  Pramod Uday, spiritual teacher)

Also makes a great gift. Can be read on Kindle, Nook, iPad, iBook, Kobo, Sony Reader, PC, Mac, etc. Remember to enter code REW50 at checkout. https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/39211

Check out the other amazing authors at Smashwords too. Pass the word around. Thank you for your support!

Inspiration and Creation

One thing that fascinates me is how creativity inspires and encourages further creative expression. How a poem I read may prime the pump for the emergence from me of another poem — or some other form. It is magical, somehow. I’m aware of being careful what I read, what fuel I put into the hopper…

A week or so ago, while battling yet another cold, I happened on the Facebook announcement of Virtual Choir 3.0, Water Night. This is an extraordinary choral piece by Eric Whitacre, adapting a poem by Octavio Paz, (translated from Spanish by Muriel Rukeyser). Very cool story about the music came to be composed. I had heard about Virtual Choir 1.0 and 2.0 from a TED talk by Eric.

The way Virtual Choir works is that Eric posts video of himself conducting the chosen piece which he posts online.  Virtual choir members then practice and submit individual recordings of their parts: soprano, alto, tenor, or base. These videos are then assembled by a super tech guy into a coherent whole. The results are stunning. VC 1.0 was Lux Aurumque (scroll down), with about 180 singers from 12 countries and VC 2.0 was Sleep with 2052 singers from 58 countries.

The deadline for submissions for VC 3.0 is Jan 31. Even with no voice (from laryngitis) I was drawn to do this. Although I’d sung in choirs most of my life, the last time was 15 years ago. (Since then I’ve been taking voice lessons which has increased my confidence, etc.) So  last week I began with learning the words to the song, listening to my part (alto 4) and listening to the whole and getting acquainted with the technology. All with the hope that I would recover in time.

Every night I “practice.” One night I actually sang. This is a gorgeous piece, a spiritual experience to sing. The more I work with it the more compelling it is. And through the Facebook page, I feel a connection to other singers, struggling with the same difficulties in notes and breathing and tech problems.

I am inspired and encouraged by this experience, however it ends up. And, as it turns out, I’ve written my own poem about the process of creation of this wondrous work that is uniting people all over the world through music, through hopeful vibration…dare I say, healing?  Who has inspired you? Come sing!

1/19/12
Thursday

Creation of Water Night

by Eric Whitacre and Octavio Paz

First was the word
and that vibration in translation
set the possibility in motion
that someone, sometime
would come who heard the music
and could set it down.

And in that decision
was the inherent gift,
the Universe saying Yes,
leading to the poem, then
words lassoing the music.
The lotus bud tightly closed
opened its lush velvet petals
revealing the inner gold.

For what was desire
was only a direction to head,
not the ultimate goal.
And direction led to here…
and now…and astonishment…
and beauty everlasting.
Small splash, then larger
as patient tendrils effortlessly
envelope and transform
the ever-expanding whole.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2012

Happy Birthday Mom!!


Today is my Mother’s 85th birthday. She was 25 when she had me, her oldest daughter (second of seven children). Now her life is wrapping up. After a series of many small strokes or “episodes,” she has significant cognitive loss according to testing. (Not Alzheimer’s.) She was a registered nurse for many years (maybe 50?). But now she cannot recall many words that used to be easy for her and she more often loses her train of thought, which frustrates her.

Yet every Monday we have these amazing conversations, talking of our week, our lives, our memories. I try to be calming and newsy: what’s going on with the kids, my husband, or my writing. We try not to talk too much about the medical. I may describe a squirrel swishing his tail on the tree in front of me. And we both remember that my Dad loved to watch the antics of squirrels in our backyard. I am grateful she knows who I am and remembers what is going on with our family. We both consciously treasure these conversations, this time we still have. This is the most recent poem for her.

9/12/11  Monday

An Ordinary Conversation

My mother wanted to remember
and I want to remember

this particular conversation
which started out about disarray

of a problematic week and
took a journey to calm consideration

of life as it plays out.
And if her voice is rough, throat dry

and if memory slips in and out
well, so what? Here we are still

talking of past and mostly present
telling stories that mean something

lending support, encouragement
eye to eye, heart to heart.

What could be better than that?

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2011

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