dual personalities

Tag: poetry

August 14, 2026

Count your blessings

by chuckofish

Yesterday my copy of The Sing! Hymnal–a Treasury of 200 Hymns for Worship & Reflection–came in the mail.

It is a lovely book, small and compact. It includes all of my favorites–I am amazed that I know almost all 200 of them.

A perfect book for one’s bedside table.

Yesterday I also went down to the Link Auction House to pick up three chairs I rescued for a pittance. Two are ebonized, stencil-backed, cane-seated chairs which daughter #1 will be able to use with her Hitchcock dining set. The third is a small antique Hitchcock rocking chair which I will keep or give to daughter #2.

They are always so nice at the auction house, good-naturedly helping to fit everything into the speedwagon. This kind of service is not always the case these days and I appreciate it!

It is also interesting to drive down to the Central West End and see the slow progress being made on the mansions along Lindell Blvd which were heavily damaged in the tornado on May 16, 2025. So many tile roofs to replace! Millions of dollars! Progress is slow.

They have planted a lot of trees in Forest Park, but there are so many massive stumps!

It is always a shock to see the tornadic devastation wrought in the blink of an eye.

Well, have a nice weekend! Sing a hymn (or read one), watch an old movie, pet a nice dog.

(Mr. Smith is a big fan of The Mentalist.)

4 Comments
August 13, 2026

School is where they grind the grain of thought

by chuckofish

Yes, it’s back-to-school time on the prairie! Can you believe it? Well, time like an ever-rolling stream and all that.

The twins don’t go back until the week after next. They will be in fourth grade! They have a few more days to wreck havoc before they have to buckle down.

I was always ready to go back to school (after Labor Day) after a long, hot, boring summer. I actually liked school.

c.1962

…I know, nerd alert.

Well, here is a poem I like by Howard Nemerov, my old neighbor, about the first day of school.

2 Comments
August 6, 2026

In any careless combination they delight

by chuckofish

This has been a banner year for garden flowers in our neck of the woods. I have no Zinnias, but I have friends who do! Here are Don’s:

…and here are Carla’s:

I mean, Wow.

And here’s a poem by Mona Van Duyn, who taught at my flyover university for many years

Also, don’t forget that August is the Summer Under the Stars month on TCM when 31 stars are featured over 31 days. Today is Diane Keaton, followed by Basil Rathbone tomorrow and Steve McQueen on Saturday!

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July 16, 2026

In vain the cruel skies their hot rays shed

by chuckofish

I was worried that the hibiscus would bloom while I was in Michigan, so I was happy to see them hanging on for me…

Huzzah!

And here’s a poem for our hot flyover July…thank goodness for water lilies!

Some flowers are withered and some joys have died;
The garden reeks with an East Indian scent
From beds where gillyflowers stand weak and spent;
The white heat pales the skies from side to side;
But in still lakes and rivers, cool, content,
Like starry blooms on a new firmament,
White lilies float and regally abide.
In vain the cruel skies their hot rays shed;
The lily does not feel their brazen glare.
In vain the pallid clouds refuse to share
Their dews, the lily feels no thirst, no dread.
Unharmed she lifts her queenly face and head;
She drinks of living waters and keeps fair.

–Helen Hunt Jackson

4 Comments
June 11, 2026

A nobler or a lovelier scene than this?

by chuckofish

I made it back from the prairie–it was a windy (as usual) drive, but uneventful. The sky was big and blue.

I stopped once to stretch my legs and change the radio station–in Coalfield, south of Springfield–the Tiger Lilies were abundant!

…The clouds

Sweep over with their shadows, and, beneath,

The surface rolls and fluctuates to the eye;

Dark hollows seem to glide along and chase

The sunny ridges. Breezes of the South!

Who toss the golden and the flame-like flowers,

And pass the prairie-hawk that, poised on high,

Flaps his broad wings, yet moves not—ye have played

Among the palms of Mexico and vines

Of Texas, and have crisped the limpid brooks

That from the fountains of Sonora glide

Into the calm Pacific—have ye fanned

A nobler or a lovelier scene than this?

Man hath no power in all this glorious work:

The hand that built the firmament hath heaved

And smoothed these verdant swells, and sown their slopes

With herbage, planted them with island groves,

And hedged them round with forests.

–from “The Prairies” by William Cullen Bryant–read the whole poem here.

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June 10, 2026

Watching the clouds roll by

by chuckofish

The Tiger Lilies are in full bloom on the prairie, as they are in my flyover home town where I am headed this morning. I had a great time hanging out with the prairie girls and their adorable brother.

I mean really

Hopefully all will go smoothly with my drive home in the speedwagon and it won’t rain!

I’ll keep the path open, the path in my mind
I’ll see to it that there’s no love left behind
I’ll play Beethoven’s sonatas, and Chopin’s preludes
I contain multitudes

–Bob Dylan

3 Comments
June 4, 2026

The line of words becomes a trail of crumbs

by chuckofish

Vincent Van Gogh, 1889

I had an entire blogpost written and then something happened and I lost it–poof. I did not have it in me to start over. C’est la vie.

So here’s a poem by Billy Collins, “Books”:

2 Comments
June 2, 2026

The soul in paraphrase

by chuckofish

June is here and summer with it, and by that I mean it has really warmed up. But that’s par for the course in flyover country.

I am reading Tim Keller’s book on Prayer. Here is George Herbert’s poem Prayer (I), which I have shared before, but good things bear repeating:

Prayer the church’s banquet, angel’s age,

God’s breath in man returning to his birth,

The soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgrimage,

The Christian plummet sounding heav’n and earth

Engine against th’ Almighty, sinner’s tow’r,

Reversed thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear,

The six-days world transposing in an hour,

A kind of tune, which all things hear and fear;

Softness, and peace, and joy, and love, and bliss,

Exalted manna, gladness of the best,

Heaven in ordinary, man well drest,

The milky way, the bird of Paradise,

Church-bells beyond the stars heard, the soul’s blood,

The land of spices; something understood.

And here’s a word from Jorge Luis Borges:

I found America the friendliest, most forgiving, and most generous nation I had ever visited. We South Americans tend to think of things in terms of convenience, whereas people in the United States approach things ethically. This — amateur Protestant that I am — I admired above all. It even helped me overlook skyscrapers, paper bags, television, plastics, and the unholy jungle of gadgets.

–Autobiographical Notes (1970)

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May 28, 2026

I sound my barbaric yawp

by chuckofish

I had a very busy day yesterday, so I didn’t have much time to prepare a blogpost. But here is some Walt Whitman–his birthday is coming up on the 31st, so prepare yourselves…

Daughter #2 reminds me that baby Wes has been practicing his barbaric yawp recently, discovering his voice.

She says, “Oh, are you contributing a verse?”

Indeed.

5 Comments
May 21, 2026

Our own imperfect thoughts and vain opinions

by chuckofish

I had a very busy day yesterday with three–count ’em–events to attend. It was crazy, but I survived.

The first was a very chichi luncheon in Tower Grove Park to which I was invited by a dear friend. I had a lovely time and caught up with another old friend and talked to some people with whom I had weird connections.

The featured speaker was a “leading voice in ecological landscape design, pioneering a plant-systems approach that anticipates a changing future”–zut alors! It was actually quite interesting.

Then I went to the opening reception of an art and photography show at the Kirkwood Performing Arts Center where my co-editor of the Kirkwood Historical Review’s work was featured. I was so impressed with Ron’s photos! He has traveled all over the world, but his pictures are not, here’s the Eiffel Tower. They’re like, here’s a wall that looks like a Mondrian painting or here’s a crack in the ceiling that looks like Winston Churchill. Who knew 90-year old Ron was an artiste!

Finally, I went to the “Poetry Corner” at the Schaeffer House at my church to, yes, read poetry and discuss. I enjoyed it, but the chairs were very uncomfortable and it had been a long day, so I went home at the earliest opportunity. As daughter #1 says, I know how to break up a party.

Well, it’s good to get outside your comfort zone once in awhile. Read some poetry!

6 Comments