Poetry, Gardening, Birding, and other reflections on life.
Friday, April 17, 2015
National Poetry Month, Day 17
Overlooked as a gold coin
buried in the dirt,
as the primary leaf of
a crabgrass plant
in the garden.
I feel sad and angry,
questioning my worth,
knowing I shouldn’t care
if I don’t get chosen
for that residency,
or that other residency,
or the last eight residencies
I’ve applied for.
I ask myself: what is it about my work
that makes it get passed over?
is it mediocre , slipshod, shallow?
Or is it me, the old lady,
Who lacks a promising career?
Several weeks back I received an email from the man at the Glen East
administration.I didn’t get a
scholarship.That means I cannot
go. Later I received notice that the whole Glen East Workshop was scrapped this year because of low enrollment. Glen West is still on, but I am not even trying for that one.
As old as I am, I am still so vulnerable to the
acceptance/rejection of the poetry community.
I have now been rejected for scholarships to at least ten
I think I am giving up trying for residencies.I think my age militates against me, and my
poetry is not of a fashionable style, either. And in some cases, as in the
Glen, I think the director just plain doesn’t like me.Is that paranoid?
Anyway, this evening I received an invitation from a couple
who are old friends, and who have a house in Sea Isle City. We have been trying
to get together for several years, and this year it looks like we have a
weekend that will work, in mid-May.So I
will look forward to that.
In my superstitious Irish soul, I also think that God
doesn’t want me to be winning awards or fellowships or grants because publicity
would not be good for me.
I need to write a poem about the
Salon des Refuses,
Salon des Refusés, (French: Salon of the Refused), art exhibition held in 1863 in
Paris by command of Napoleon III for those artists whose works had been refused
by the jury of the official Salon. Among the exhibitors were Paul Cézanne,
Camille Pissarro, Armand Guillaumin, Johan Jongkind, Henri Fantin-Latour, James Whistler, and Édouard
Manet, who exhibited his famous painting “Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe,”
officially regarded as a scandalous affront to taste.