Some people need to be hit on the head to appreciate the beauty of poetry. Me? I’ve always enjoyed the genre – the head hitting came late in the afternoon.
Karen Exiner has a wonderful little studio in downtown Elmhurst. Along with her own artistic talents, she is generous with her time and encouragement and is always willing to help others on their own artistic journey.
On Sunday afternoon, Karen hosted a poetry reading and book signing in her cozy studio for Elmhurst sculptor and poet Robert Pine. About 30 adults and children gathered in her gallery on an otherwise gloomy January day to enjoy light refreshments while listening to Bob read from his new childrens’ book as he took us on a poetic picnic. Bob set the scenes while asking the children attending questions about picnics and the moon, ants and Haiku, and we enjoyed an hour or so listening to his words from his book.
I was impressed by the children in attendance. When asked who knew what Haiku was, Yvonne’s daughter went into a brief but thorough explanation that we all could understand and then we caught its rhythm as Bob read some to us.
Another lass explained the phases of the moon preceding another reading. I found myself as impressed by the children in attendance as I did by the poet in our midst and considered myself as lucky as Paula’s friends at her poetry picnic.
I enjoy poetry and feel it should be read aloud, especially to children. Musical lyrics are poetry, as are the Psalms. You already know my appreciation of Robert Frost and someday I will tell you about Longfellow’s Wayside Inn, where we spent some lovely autumn days.
Bob Pine is donating a portion of the proceeds to the children’s room at the Elmhurst Public Library. Paula’s Poetry Picnic can be found online at www.publishersgraphicsbookstore.com. Scroll down until you see Bob’s book, which you can then click on.
I had an entire weekend of mishaps. It started when I fell onto a cushy couch at Elijah’s Coffee Shop on Friday with the speed of a tortoise, much to the amusement of friends watching my slow motion descent as my friend Marilyn looked up at me in shock, surely wondering how many dents she would sustain if I landed on her. I didn’t, but the swoosh as I landed sounded like the Space Shuttle landing and was a sight to behold.
My repeated attempts to get into my car, which I discovered hemmed in by a large SUV at church, made for a lively workout that nearly brought me to my knees in the church parking lot. An elderly lady waited patiently in her creamy Cadillac for my space, watching me ease up and down and around the car, squeezing my stomach in, removing my coat, then my scarf, tossing my Sunday School lessons onto the passenger side, hurrying back around to the driver’s side and standing on tip toes, then attempting deep knee bends, as I worked up a sweat trying to get into my car. I finally did and I thought of the passage of the camel going through the eye of a needle as I headed home, sure I had not arrived in heaven.
The knock on the head came just as the poetry event was finishing up. Somehow, a lovely painting in Karen’s gallery came tumbling down, breaking some glasses and landing on my unsuspecting pate. Not hurt, I laughed, shook the cobwebs out, and wondered about my misadventures and how very unpoetic they were.
Thank you, Karen, for inviting me to the lovely event, and thank you, Bob, for your poetry picnic on this gloomy January day.
Once again, your blog made me smile this morning, thank you.
I am so sorry I did not go to Karen’s poetry open house. I had it on my calendar but went to a hockey game instead. Grandchildren win everytime, you will soon find out.
I agree with you regarding poetry. I too like reading and listening to poems but I feel rather intimidated because I know so little about this form of writing. I try my best to appreciate it.
Once again thanks for writing so wonderfully about so many things I feel in my heart and mind.
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You would have loved it, Marilyn, but, you are correct – grandchildren come first. You braved getting hit by a hockey puck instead of like moi who got whacked with a painting. Thank you for always being my “agent”, encouraging me, being a friend.
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The poetry reading sounded lovely. I never knew what a Haiku was until my children explained it to me. Except for in a couple of areas, my public education in the 70s in Chicago’s South Suburbs compared poorly with the public education my children received in Elmhurst.
As far as the SUV blocking you in, I empathize with you. Most recently I was parked across the street from the police station in Elmhurst and had to crawl through the passenger side to get into my car due to an SUV taking up the usual 1+ spaces… no easy task when the gear shift is on the floor between the two seats. I have an ongoing feud with SUVs.
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I learned so much, and continue to do so, from my children, Janet. If fact, I wouldn’t have even a clue as to how to do this blog if it weren’t for them.
Poetry is scary for most people. I was lucky in having a wonderful American Lit teacher in high school. He would play recordings of Carl Sandburg reading and made it come alive for me. Isn’t Anton a lover of poetry?
You are brave. I couldn’t brave the gear shift on Sunday. I gave it a thought – a passing one.
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Penny, I didn’t have a choice, the SUV was only a matter of inches from my driver’s seat door! It was that or either sit outside my car in the cold waiting for the driver to come back to the vehicle or else go business to business looking for the offender. I think SUV drivers should be required to take a special driver’s ed. instructing them on how to drive unnecessarily large vehicles with manners!
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I am glad you enjoyed the afternoon and sorry that you had some mishaps (even though I laughed inside at them). Well, now you know how it feels when someone stalks you slowly in the parking lot waiting for your space 🙂 Glad you made it into the car safely and mostly clothed.
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Of course you laughed. I would have laughed also. I did laugh. I’m still laughing. It is the family curse on your mother’s side.
Hey, I don’t stalk. Well, I do stalk and wait, but, if I saw a frazzled lady, walking around the car, opening the driver’s door, doing calisthenics, then the passenger, then the driver, I think I would have moved on – or called the police.
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Things seem to happen to you. Me too. A couple of weeks ago, I was in a buffet in Springfield. Because of the long trip, my first stop was the restroom. When I was on the “throne”, I pulled a piece of paper. I hadn’t noticed that there was no cover on the dispenser. Well, the entire giant roll of paper jumped out and clonked me on the nose. I calmly washed my hands and came out of the restroom. I didn’t realize until then that I was a little dazed and I had to sit a minute. I tried to explain that I had been knocked silly by an over-sized roll of toilet paper. Jim thought that I should let management know because my nose was starting to swell and a bruise was starting to show on my cheek. I didn’t want to because it was kind of embarrassing but Jim convinced me that the next victim of the Attack Toilet Paper might not be as used to being clonked as I am. I was impressed that the manager and many friends that he called to look at mekept straight faces, but it was difficult. They didn’t even give me a free meal. Love to read your blog.
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Oh, Janet, I’m glad you weren’t hurt and chuckled a bit. I think we haven’t changed much in all the years since we first met. They should have at least given you desert. I’m so glad you are reading my blog and owe you a nice long letter. Stay warm, country mouse.
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