RSS

Tag Archives: poetry

When I Am Alone At Night

When I am alone at night,
When I go to bed,
In my head,
I disperse my goods.
I write notes,
Letters, long, detailed.
I imagine deep long rest,
Wonder if I’ve had enough.

When I am alone at night
I roll myself against the walls,
Scratch, stretch,
Rub, rock,
Hunger for sensation,
Pray for contact,
Want for touch,
Wonder if I’m here long enough.

When I am alone at night
I fail to create ambitions.
In my head,
I disperse my goods,
I write notes,
Look at bottles,
Estimate pills,
Wonder if there are enough.

 
2 Comments

Posted by on February 2, 2016 in Culture, Poetry, psychology, Suicide

 

Tags: , , , ,

Halfway Through March

When I woke this morning, I was afraid I could not write. I felt it was gone. It, whatever that is, felt absent. But during the day’s discussion, in the three minutes between classes, in moments during planning, the topic of poets came up. I found the poem “We Bring Democracy To The Fish,” by Donald Hall. Don’t blame me for the way the title is capitalized – blame Donald. Anyway, he was Laureate until that poem was published. Then he was Poet Non Grata. He and the Dixie Chicks hung out together looking for work.

Distressed Haiku had this line: “I finished with April/halfway through March.”  His wife, the poet Jane Kenyon, had died in the month of April, 1995. That line. That one line. I have said that myself, nearly word for word. And I was writing again. But would I ever write of anything else?

I ask that, yet I have. I have. But, time and time again, I return to it. Why? Because one doesn’t go on. One doesn’t heal. One continues, with the wound. With the weight. One may be happy, one may be loved, and one may be content, one may have a wonderful life. I certainly do. But that is still there, because it is part of our lives. For those in this “club we’re in that I wouldn’t wish anyone to belong to,” as a friend of mine put it, one doesn’t go back to the old way of being, but creates a new normal around the space.

Everything is made of space. So, I guess, I’m still writing about everything. I guess.

 

Halfway Through March

It is second period.
I have been discussing
Poetry with Mr. Wolf.
Poets, appreciated but
Never paid well,
Never paid attention to,
Paid heed, respected,
Honored, yes: the Poets Laureate
Paid, at first, in wine.
Chaucer paid in
Gallons of wine.

Name bridges after them,
Put up markers roadside,
Have them inaugurate
The president, but don’t
Pay them enough to
Leave their teaching posts
So they can develop
Their craft without
Daily worries of bills due.

The discussion moved to
Donald Hall. One year only
He held his post.
He published
“We Bring Democracy To The Fish.”
So long and thanks for all that.

But now it is period three,
Donald Hall is in my brain,
So I am reading.
Students working,
Teacher reading, because
I can barely think
Anything else.

I didn’t know
He lost his wife.
Twenty-six years,
Cancer comes and
She goes.

I had always pictured him
Alone. Solitary, New Hampshire
Snow. Writing.

But he wrote of
Her leaving and
What was left,
He wondered if he
Would ever write of
Anything else.
Here, listen to his
Distressed Haiku:
“Will Hall ever write
lines that do anything
but whine and complain?”

Here is the Universal.
Here is the experience
Of the creative. Of those
Who take everything
Of their lives, of their
Surroundings,
Turn it into something

To understand.
Make the internal life
External, visible, palpable.
Make something with
No hands reach out,
Shake you, shock you,
Leave you thinking,
Understanding what you
Did not understand before.

Make the solitary
The common experience.
Remind me
I’m not the only one.

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on January 7, 2016 in Books, Culture, Education, philosophy, Poetry, psychology

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Adam Byrn Tritt and the Story of the 34th St. Wall -Isis Ash

Gainesville’s 34th Street Wall, loss and poetry. Courtesy of WUFT, Gainesville and WJXT, Jacksonville, Florida.

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on May 8, 2015 in Culture, Gainesville, Poetry, psychology

 

Tags: , , ,

Throwing Rocks at the Sun

Written with Sadie Amarina Tritt, age 4. My first collaboration with my granddaughter.

Throwing Rocks at the Sun

We can go to the park now,
And paint with our fingers on canvas sails.
We can dance now,
Tickle a ferret’s tummy until…
Do ferrets laugh?

We can plant flowers
And play with Grandma in the morning.
We can climb through the phone and…
Would we hurt the phone or
Would we hurt our noses?

Are doggies made of
Nothing but bone?
Can I see the pictures
When we get back home?
Tell me, do sea otters
Have bright big teeth?
What animals lay eggs?
What do they eat?

You and I,
We can go outside, and
We can throw rocks at the Sun.

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on April 28, 2015 in Family, Poetry

 

Tags: , , , ,

Seven Questions for Adam: An Interview by Craig Smith

Seven Questions for Adam: An Interview by Craig Smith.

 

Tags: , , ,

Win a Copy of my Newest Book : Yom Kippur as Manifest in an Approaching Dorsal Fin

Want to win a copy of my newest book? Of course you do.  Goodreads is holding a give-away for ten copies. Just click on this link.

From the back-matter:

“Whatever ‘the Jewish experience’ might mean to the modern reader, Adam Byrn Tritt’s approach is uniquely his own. He is ‘observant’ in the sense that he carefully observes, as you would expect of a man who is, at essence, a poet. As a self-described ‘Jewitarian Buddhaversalist,’ he is aware that each tradition illuminates the other. This collection of essays and poems provides us with good talk. Conversation is the highest artform, and Mr. Tritt invites us in most kindly, with insight, erudition, humor, and compassion.”

—Wayne McNeill, author of Songbook for Haunted Boys and GirlsImage

Yom Kippur as Manifest in an Approaching Dorsal Fin explores—in essays, poems, and creative nonfiction—the tension between cultural heritage and contemporary society, between religion and spirituality, between the family you inherit and the family you create. From early-morning wrestlings with God to portraits of three remarkably different family funerals, from Kabbalist chants at a pagan bookstore to the humorous “What Do Jews Do on Christmas?,” Tritt’s writing taps into themes nearly universal in today’s world in ways that will resonate with readers of all backgrounds and faiths—or no faith at all.

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on August 20, 2013 in Books, Culture, Family, psychology, Religion, Social

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Reviewer holds Songs from the Well “Close to (her) Chest”

The newest review for my latest book, Songs from the Well. If you haven’t read it, this reviewer thinks you should.

I’ve just finished Songs from the Well by Adam Byrn Tritt and I’m in awe. At the moment, I’m sitting on my recliner, holding my kindle close to my chest because I can find no other perfect place to have this story other than close to my heart. My heart is swelling with love and breaking at the same time, my eyes are tearing from admiration and sadness and I am finding it hard to concentrate on anything other than this book. This book is, hands down, 5 stars. Wow.

From the very first page of Songs from the Well, I was in love. Adam Byrn Tritt’s story about his wife’s life, family and contribution to the world and everyone around her placed me in his shoes and showed me exactly why he was- and still is- absolutely head over heels in love with her.

This story is packed full of sweet sentiments, hilarious stories of Adam and Adam’s wife- Lee’s- adventures, heart warming family connections and tissue worthy poetry.

This book is not very long, but I’ll admit to you all, my faithful readers, that it took me three days to read. Not because it was difficult to get through, but because I wanted to savor the story. I wanted to take my time with Adam’s recollections of Lee’s life, their experiences of grief and mourning and wonderful insights for ways to look at life.

Adam also writes a letter to his granddaughter about his family and their ancestors and past, which makes me envious for that rich of a family history.

This author and Songs from the Well will capture your heart and fill your emotional bucket with love, friendship, laughter and sorrow.

Rebecca Tyndall –  The Literary Connoisseur

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on June 30, 2013 in Books, Writing

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

 
%d bloggers like this: