Mail, National Poetry Month, and Circe by Madeline Miller

Incoming

from Connie

Outgoing

The Billy Collins quote make me want to graffiti his poems on sidewalks.  :)

Postcards to grands  

to Mila

Spring is like a perhaps hand

(which comes carefully

out of Nowhere) arranging

a window, into which people look...

--e e cummings

 to Max

 to Bryce Eleanor

On the back, a quote from Carl Sandburg:

"Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits."

*  I love this idea:  1000 Poems by Mail

Reading:  Just finished Circe by Madeline Miller.  It was wonderful!  Beautiful prose and a fascinating look at myths and gods from the point of view of Circe, daughter of Helios, who drove his chariot of the sun across the sky each day.  Circe (unloved child, nymph, sorceress, witch) exiled to her island tells her version of the gods and heroes and monsters.  Circe has a depth that the other, more powerful gods lack.  She has the ability of introspection; she makes mistakes and regrets them.  She resents the power of both the Titans and the Olympians and stands against them as best she can.

Her first rebellion was a kindness to Prometheus when--as a timid child--she brought him nectar in secret.  Prometheus who aided mortals is aided by the young Circe; a theme develops. 

At one point, Circe speaks of her beautiful loom, a gift from Daedalus, innovator and craftsman:  
"I have it still.  It sits near my hearth and has even found its way into the songs.  Perhaps that is no surprise, Poets like such symmetries:  Witch Circe skilled at spinning spells and threads alike, at weaving charms and cloths.  Who am I to spoil an easy hexameter?"

She recalls a song she has heard of her meeting with Odysseus:  "I was not surprised by the portrait of myself:  the proud witch undone before the hero's sword, kneeling and begging for mercy.  Humbling women seems to be a chief pastime of poets.  As if there can be no story unless we crawl and weep."

Later, in a conversation with Penelope, Penelope tells Circe:  "I am from Sparta.  We know about old soldiers there.  The trembling hands, the startling from sleep.  The man who spills his wine every time the trumpets blow."  I like that passage because I never thought of the Greek warriors suffering from PTSD, but of course they did.  

I have loved myths since I was a child and there are so many versions even from the ancients.  There are also some wonderful retellings available:  The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood and Weight by Jeanette Winterson are also great examples of modern mythic retellings; these are much shorter, condensed, but powerful.    Antigo Nick is a campy, amusing modern translation of Sophocles' Antigone by Anne Carson.

And for National Poetry Month, a poem by Louise Gluck:

Circe's Power

I never turned anyone into a pig.

Some people are pigs; I make them

Look like pigs.

I'm sick of your world

That lets the outside disguise the inside. Your men weren't bad men;

Undisciplined life

Did that to them. As pigs,

Under the care of

Me and my ladies, they

Sweetened right up.

Then I reversed the spell, showing you my goodness

As well as my power. I saw

We could be happy here,

As men and women are

When their needs are simple. In the same breath,

I foresaw your departure,

Your men with my help braving

The crying and pounding sea. You think

A few tears upset me? My friend,

Every sorceress is

A pragmatist at heart; nobody sees essence who can't

Face limitation. If I wanted only to hold you

I could hold you prisoner.

Do you have a favorite myth?