THE DEATH OF MARY OLIVER AT 83

Today poet, Mary Oliver, died from lymphoma. (That is the cancer that killed my husband, Barry. It loves to take the good ones.)

Mary Oliver was widely known and greatly admired. She loved nature and "dead poets" who, she said, were her friends when she was a child. 

I like accessible poetry like Mary Oliver's poems. Following is a quote from the article on NPR announcing her passing. 

"Mary Oliver isn't a difficult poet," Franklin says. "Her work is incredibly accessible, and I think that's what makes her so beloved by so many people. It doesn't feel like you have to take a seminar in order to understand Mary Oliver's poetry. She's speaking directly to you as a human being."   https://tinyurl.com/y7dkxdxc 


When I first began reading Oliver's poetry, I thought of her as a young woman hiking through the fields, strong and healthy. I thought of me when I was young and healthy walking in the woods, exploring small things, bringing home yellow, pink or green pieces of fungus growing on a downed tree. I checked out the bird's nest in low-hanging branches, hoping to see baby birds with wide open mouths. We had still ponds on the farm where blue herons stood on one leg waiting for something, I did not know what. In tall dead trees, black crows congregated and cawed like a chorus of bad voices.


Max, my brother has always been enthralled with the natural world. When I was about four or five years old, he would hold me up to look into the blue bird's nest in the wood fence posts.


I grew up loving nature, all living things, plant or animal. The prickly may-haw bushes, the wild plum trees that grew along fence rows, the chinaberry tree with its fragrant flowers and little green berries, they all piqued my interest. And I loved wildflowers. In early spring a field of Easter Lilies blanketed a low lying pasture. My sister and I picked handfuls to take home to gift our mother. On the hill where large oak trees grew wide with heavy limbs, tiny wild violets hid where only those who knew their secret could find them.

You can see why Mary Oliver's poetry appeals to me.

I am listing some links so you can listen to Mary Oliver read her poetry or you can read her words.

The Summer Day

When Death Comes

Mary Oliver reading Wild Geese

Writing about Poetry Today

I hear from writers who say this time of year they just can't get motivated or inspired to write. I think that it is universal. When we spend time in our homes because of the weather, we find other things we need to do or want to do and just put off writing.

I found a wonderful site tonight that should give writers and poets plenty to think about and possibly to write about. Twenty-Five of the best poetry writing prompts had me making notes by those listed so I can write a poem or a story that the prompt uncovered deep in my mind.

https://trishhopkinson.com/2018/12/18/125-of-the-best-poetry-writing-prompts-for-poets-via-writers-relief/

Visit this site and let me know if you found anything that jolted a memory or an image for you.

One of my poems was accepted yesterday for publishing in April during the Poetry Parade on www.yourdailypoem.com The editor, Jayne Jaudon Ferrer has gone a great job with this site.

She says: This site exists for one purpose only: to help dispel the ugly myth that poetry is boring. Granted, a lot of poetry is boring, but you won't find it here. At Your Daily Poem, you'll find poetry that is touching, funny, provocative, inspiring, and surprising. It may punch you in the gut, it may bring tears to your eyes, it may make you laugh out loud, but it most assuredly will not bore you.

If you subscribe, you will receive a poem sent to you daily. 
Go the Archives of Your Daily Poem. Under the Bs in authors you will find my name.
Read other poems by me that were published and sent out to subscribers of Your Daily Poem. If you are a poet, think about sending one of your poems to Jayne at www.yourdailypoem.com

What Should be My Word for 2019?

Last year I chose a word for the year. I printed it and posted it in several places in my house where I saw it every day. My word was

FOCUS.

I know I have a big problem staying with a task until it is finished. I have been told that my house is evidence of this issue. My dining room table is covered right now with papers--papers pertaining to four or more tasks I started but have not finished. But next week, I will focus on those tasks and complete them.

I am contemplating what my word for this year should be. 
First I have to decide what I want to accomplish this year. I always have such grand plans for the next twelve months that I over-schedule myself. Then I suffer with physical pain from lack of rest and being too stimulated mentally to sleep well. I absolutely make myself sick. My sister, Gay, can attest to this. 

I know others have this same problem. Some of them are my good friends. Owning a home takes so much of our time and finances. I have been making a mental list of what has to be done to my house this spring. My deck needs repairs and painting.

My health is uppermost in my planning for the next twelve months.I will begin with physical therapy and go on to water exercises as I try to deal with fibromyalgia and other concerns that have no name. I already incorporate massage therapy and chiropractic care in my regimen. That takes way too much of my time.

Of course, my work with NCWN-West is always of the utmost importance. Soon I will be scheduling readers for Coffee with the Poets and Writers for the months of March through November 2019. NCWN West will sponsor a workshop by Valerie Nieman this summer. We will need to publicize this event with emails, articles in local papers, etc. 

We are going to hold another Day for Writers in August. Carol Taylor is co-chairing that event with me. This all day writers' conference is a time consuming project as we search for the best presenters, arrange for a caterer, and line up volunteers to help with all the details.

I want to teach a couple of workshops or six week courses on memoir writing at Writers Circle around the Table. Maybe I can teach another course for the Institute of Continuing Learning at Young Harris. I enjoy these classes, seeing my students improve their writing and hearing their unique stories.

My own writing tends to get pushed way down the list of things to do, but I hope to get a poetry book published this year, and I am working on a collection of short stories. Estelle Rice and I will continue to market our book, Paws, Claws, Hooves, Feathers and Fins. We have been overjoyed at the reception this book has received. But it has taken much time and work to get it out there and let people know about it.

Wow! I get tired reading all my plans for this year. I didn't even mention working on my genealogy. 

We know it takes patience, persistence and perseverance to achieve success.

Maybe perseverance should be my word for 2019. What do you think?

Definition of perseverance :
 continued effort to do or achieve something despite difficulties, failure, or opposition : the action or condition or an instance of persevering

What would you choose for your word for 2019?

The Sound of One Voice

Watch and hear this song sung by the USAF Band.  It made me weep.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q41ctPLDHvU

The following is a comment about this beautiful song. I think we all agree that union and harmony is what is needed in our country today.

Chris M. said:

"USAF Band, you make this retired Airman proud...thank you! And your voices and your instruments make a wonderful sound that reminds us all that in America's great diversity, there is real beauty in unison and even more in harmony, but not in discord. Aim high always--God bless you."

End of Year Promote Your Book Party

https://charlesfrenchonwordsreadingandwriting.wordpress.com/2018/12/29/end-of-the-year-promote-your-book-party/

Charles French is helping writers to promote their books here at the end of the year.
Visit the link above and leave your book info in a comment. He asks that you then reblog his post on your blog or website.
This is a good way for us writers to help each other get the word out about our books.
Thanks, Charles French. And thanks to Abbie Johnson who posted this on her blog.

Some photos I like

The last photo of Barry and me, 2008, taken for my poetry book, Now Might as Well be Then, published in 2009

Winter at my house a few years ago. 

Winter in my woods

Brasstown Bald, highest peak in Georgia with dusting of snow.
Photo taken from my deck.

We walked this long road up to Connemara, home of poet Carl Sandburg, a few years ago. We spent the day there. I toured the home and learned much about this fascinating man. His wife raised champion goats. 

I am sick with a cold and not up to writing a post today. So I decided to post some photos I like.

Sailboat on the bay in Nova Scotia. I liked the cleanliness and fresh air. I could live there except I don't want to be so far from my family.

Bison graze at Yellowstone in 2003. This trip motivated me to write a number of poems. I will always remember the wildlife and the wonders of Yellowstone Park. I hope we will always have our national parks and national monuments.

Scene from Yellowstone’s Valiant Wild

By Glenda Council Beall

A young male strode down the mountainside,

crossed the road, strutted into shallow waters

of the Gallatin river. He stalked the old bull elk

grazing alone on the other side.

The herd master ignored the gauntlet for a while,

then quick like a rattler striking, charged from the bank. 

The clash of antlers cracked like breaking pines

in an ice storm, rolling sound upstream and down.

On land once more, the battle halted

while both tried to maneuver bony-branched horns

between the lodge pole pines. A minute’s rest--

then back into the current.

Strong hind quarters, taunt neck muscles, bunched

like iron cables, pushed, retreated, up and down

the icy stream. The match wore on for more

than twenty minutes.

Heads low, antlers commingled like old bones

collected in a basket, until the young stud forced

his aging foe beneath the water’s surface, held him there.

The veteran of a life of valiant clashes at last broke free.

He crashed and splashed downstream, the loser,

bleating like a lamb who's lost his mother.

Posing for cameras on the roadside,

the victor, centered in the roaring river,

raised his head and shook his massive rack.

He bugled his triumphant call to his new harem

The Best Way to Hold a Critique Group

I attended the NCWN-West prose group at Tri-County Community College for the first time in quite a few months. This group meets monthly and has a good group of writers participating. Bob Grove is the facilitator. Some of those present were former students at Writers Circle Around the Table or my ICL classes. I love it when I see how much they have progressed. 

One of my writing classes

I also like the way those present encouraged each other. Compliments flew around the table and it was obvious that this group of seven not only gave constructive criticism, but gave each other positive ideas and suggestions. 
"This is the best thing you have written," one person told another.
Having heard and read each other's work for some time, it doesn't surprise me that they see improvement. The best part is that everyone is accepting critique and ways to improve.

I usually write memoir, but tonight I took a short story I had written a long time ago. I am not famous for my fiction, but have had some success in publishing a story or two. When I began seriously writing when I was in my twenties, I took a course in writing fiction. I never shared the story I wrote in that class with anyone other than my instructor. Now, I have the bug to write more short stories, and I will take them to this group for their helpful input. 

No matter how long and how often we write, it helps to have others read our work. They see what we can't see in our writing. To be a part of a critique group, one must be prepared to hear what others think and see in his work. 

I do wish this group was reminded of the manner in which critique works best. I, and others who were in this group twenty years ago, learned from Nancy Simpson the best way and the way many graduate studies teach critique. 

The facilitator tells the group that they must first go around the table and say what they like about the prose they just heard. Then they talk about what might make the story better, what they didn't understand or wanted to know more about.

In this manner of critique which is best, the reader stays completely quiet. He just listens to what the others say until everyone has spoken. At that time, the facilitator asks the reader if he wants to say anything. When critique is done this way, no one speaks directly to the reader. The reader doesn't become defensive or feel he has to explain himself.

An example of the wrong way:
The reader finishes his story and waits for the critique to begin. The first thing he hears is a direct criticism. "You changed point of view a couple of times," said someone in the group. She spoke to the reader directly instead of speaking to the group in general.

Immediately the reader feels he must say something, defend his work or explain his writing. 
He says something back and the room grows quiet. The atmosphere changes. Tension grows. 

The best way is to never say, YOU should do this or YOU did that. Beginning a sentence with you is often the way to turn someone completely off.

If the critique was done correctly, the first thing he would have heard is, "I like his characterization in this piece." Later he might hear, "He changed point of view a couple of times."  Then the reader would not become defensive. He would not have to defend himself since the words were not directed toward him.

After everyone has spoken about this story, the person in charge would say, "Do you have anything you want to say about what you heard?"
At that point the reader can speak or not. It is up to him.

It is a great way to critique and it never made anyone uncomfortable. When I was new to NCWN-West, I was scared to death to let anyone see my work. But Nancy Simpson, our facilitator of poetry and Richard Argo, who led the prose group, Carol Crawford and later Janice Moore kept to those rules of critique, and I never had my feelings hurt or felt attacked by someone telling me I must do that or I had done something wrong.  

When the critique was done, I felt gratitude for those who spoke about my work. I made notes as they talked and later I might change or revise using the suggestions I had heard. 

The leader of the group can make this work well. 

If several members of the group say to a reader "You need to do this or I don't understand what you are saying" the poor reader feels he has to defend himself and feels he is being attacked. That should never happen in a good critique group. It slows down the progress of the critique and doesn't really accomplish much.  

I want to attend this prose group again and I hope the suggestions I made here can be put in place for future meetings. 

What do you think about attending a critique group?

Doing Nothing? Can you?

In the busiest time of the year, how often do we set aside time to do nothing? We need to set aside time to work and time to play, but also time to just do nothing.

Those around you may not approve of or understand your short bursts of enjoyable-yet-restorative-sloth. They may mistakenly think you have time to spare and try to elbow in on this time. Hi-ya! you will say. “This is my time." After all, as time management expert Craig Jarrow writes, “Your time is your most valuable resource. You cannot get more time. Don’t let others waste or steal it.” Your precious time to do nothing is when you are refilling your cup so that you can be there for other people in just a little while. It’s not only okay but necessary to hit the pause button.  

                                         from: Spirituality and Health magazine.

Barry and Glenda Beall on top of Chimney Rock North Carolina

One of the things I most admired about my late husband, Barry, was his ability to sit on our deck, high amidst the tree tops, the wild birds and to do nothing. I often asked how he could do this. If I sat with him, I had to be talking, reading, writing or making my to-do lists.

He had no answer except he enjoyed it. My father often sat early in the morning and just stared into space. He said he was planning his day or thinking about what he needed to do. I'm not sure that was "doing nothing." He seemed to be working. I have no idea what Barry thought about while he sat on the deck, but I imagine he reflected on how happy he was and how grateful he was to be where he was and to have had the life he did.

One day, after he was diagnosed with cancer and while he was still at home, Barry asked me, "Don't you think we have had a good marriage? We have been happy, haven't we?"

I think he was asking me if I had been happy for the forty-four years we had been married. I thought he knew, but I have always been moody and had my ups and downs. I am a worrier and "borrowed trouble" as my mother used to say. I can go from being exhilarated to being low as a toad. My family has always known that about me.

Strangely enough, I am more balanced now with my emotions. Perhaps it is age, but who knows? Maybe it was other things including my environment, where I lived and who was in my circle of friends and family. I still find it hard to do nothing although I think it is very important. I find my mind going to the past, to missing those I love, and to worrying about the future. I can take a nap, read, or fish but doing nothing at all - well, time is so precious, and I have so much I want to do!

So, I try to meditate or just "do nothing" but it is not easy. How about you, my dear readers? Can you do nothing, hit the pause button, refill your cup so you can be there for others?