If I am not a Glimmer,
So I have to be a Shimmer.
And if I am not a Shimmer,
I must be a Himmer.
And if I am not a Himmer,
I must be a Jimmer.
And if I am not a Jimmer,
I must be a Chimmer.
And if I am not a Chimmer,
What am I?
I was fascinated by the premise of this essay. “There are far too few daughters in poetry.” –JGR Daughters in Poetry by Eavan Boland There are far too few daughters in poetry. They turn up surprisingly rarely in nineteenth century poems, considering how they crowded into the available fictional equivalents. So it’s a relief to…
Sullied water and moldy bread, a wormy apple or bright berries, it was on these they fed. Night two or was it more? Gators snapping as carefully they stepped in mud and gore. Sounds of tiger growls rent the air, when the tree snake reached down to dust Clara’s curly hair. Dawn found them on…
II. Africa Maun, Botswana Afternoons, I teach schoolchildren to swim in the flooded waters of the Tamalakane. Two fingers support wiry bodies that sink every chance they get. “Arch your back! Spread out your limbs! Float! Kick! Paddle!” Until one student travels under her own speed. We collapse on the bank, gasping with sputtered water…
Marcelline (Marcy) Burns is an author-friend I made through her response to “Sightlines: A Poet’s Diary” and continued penpal correspondence with both my father and myself. She is one of my role models I use when answering the question, “What kind of old woman do I want to be?” This was a question posed to…
Joel Heffner is a man of many projects. One of his really fun ones is a site called “How We Became Writers: This is how we did it.” He’s just posted my story of how I became a writer which includes my poem “Scribbler,” from “Sightlines: A Poet’s Diary.” You can read the entire post…
I love this poem from B. H. Fairchild’s 1998 The Art of the Lathe. When I read it, I get chills–goose-bumps always tell me something more is up than I can know. For me, in such a deep way, this poem describes my father–his delicacy, his competence, his depth and no-need-to-speak-it kinship with spirit. For…
“If I am not a glimmer…” I predict this young writer has a glimmering future ahead.
Maggie -and Amelia -do seem to show great signs of purpetuating future generations with the family talents.
Hi Maggie,
It sounds like you are a fantastic simmer from the exceptional world of yiemmer…
With Chi,
Hal
Webster defines Yiem as matter. It is the primordial material substance from which all elements are supposed to have been derived. So that would make us all Yiemmers, right? Maggie at seven is simmering, growing into a fantastic version of one of us yiemmers.
Dear Maggie,
It is plain to see that if you are not a Chimmer, you are most wonderfully a “Rymmer” of the poetical sort. Congratulations on starting your writing career so early and so nicely!
Arletta