Sunday, October 23, 2011

Mythopoetry Scholar

Work Begins

Work on volume 3 of Mythopoetry Scholar Annual eZine begins. With an editor’s “I-eye” on publishing in a little over eight weeks from now, I thought it might be worthwhile to blog on the process giving fans of mythopoetry.com a peek at what they can expect from this year’s zine. Readers can tap into the table of content for volume 3 at any time knowing the page is live and updated whenever new submissions are accepted into the zine.

The theme this year for Mythopoetry Scholar is “revolution.” The title of the volume is a little more complex, “Chaos as Creation, Revolution as Renaissance, Apocalypse as Promise.” And, there is a lot of wiggle room for how the poetic image and mytheme can be approached and re visioned, too!

Clinical social worker and cultural mythologer, Gene Toews suggests soul’s revolutionary renaissance moves toward even greater meaning and purpose at the end of one’s life. Approaching this year’s mytheme through all three poetic images contained in the title from a poetics of dying Gene writes,

Perhaps the single most important revolution each experiences most exquisitely is that which occurs intrapsychically, as one engages their death.

And he continues,

To paraphrase Viktor Frankl, death "... does not mean something vague, but something very real and very concrete. ... (no one's death) can be compared with any other ...." Earlier I have written of the poesis of dying. James Hillman writes of the intimate relationship between soul and death. Jung discusses dying as the final stage of development towards wholeness. Daily, in my hospice work, I witness patients who suffer the despair of believing they no longer have worth or value; they feel they no longer have anything to give. This, Hillman might say, is the fiction they've come to believe. Healing, he writes, has to do with healing this fictional account (Healing Fiction). Frankl's logotherapy arose from the unimaginable suffering he experienced and witnessed during his years in Nazi concentration camps. The resulting intrapsychic chaos gave rise to his understanding "...that human life, under any circumstances, never ceases to have meaning…

Gene adds one more thought in his submission abstract regarding what is brought about inwardly by engaging in soul at its most profoundest levels…

Current research indicates that those who are dying, who face the final apocalyptic moments of their life in very real, palpable ways, find their quality of life enhanced as their suffering is reduced, through connecting with the meanings and purposes of their life's stories.


Whet your appetite for more soul food? I hope so!

Friday, July 8, 2011

ARIZONA HABOOB / Feathered Gods




The walker came down from Tucson last night just after seven
striding the horizon in phainein form; the strider appeared
an occurrence extraordinaire as if a god from out a cloud
ten thousand feet tall had just arrived for dinner.

I was out grilling salmon when the feathered one swallowed

the mountains on the horizon at the edge of town and not quite
done, I snatched the foil pan from the fire and ran before the
great one began shedding its skin all over my supper.


Some folks I know call the walker “old man”; some call him
the storm serpent and some just say “Avanyu Sendo comes hither”
and mean something biblical and primordial, a tall strider
big as god moves like a serpent behind a wall of dust.


When Avanyu walks the sun fades; Avanyu is hungry and it is
the dinner hour. The serpent is no invited guest and so I hide
indoors and eat my fish watching as he swallows Phoenix
on TV. I can just as easily watch it from the front window.


Considering it’s a storm god, I hospitably relent and agree to share
repast by the window. Avanyu’s tongue is made of barbed
lightening and dining with the serpent god can be more
than a spectacle should there be dinner conversation.

Avanyu is no good in his youth the story goes; folk gossip in dread

P’o anyu is a monster who threatens to flood because he, nearly one
hundred miles wide, is a big boy is all; he means well folk say
into the swollen street swallowed earlier in a wall of dust.


Tonight he’s more polite in watching what comes out of his mouth
although, a diminished flood of sorts pours out when he opens it
and this is true because dining with any god is one wild party; the
cleaning up afterward takes all next day and requires a hose.

I can’t help thinking TallStrider a kind of benevolent serpent, too

while the hose, what comes out of its mouth, descends like a river
onto the patio floor to rid the way my dinner guest could chew and
how, the way Avanyu left last night in a hurry, made his clothes fall off.




©2011 Feathered Gods stephanie pope Bugs & Monsters mythopoetry.com

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

A FEN AGAIN

laced or not, her shoes
words flow like swords making
new cuttings from old sounds
shoshannahs stream in soft
meadows releasing an ah-part
from a fresh source


& from Lily’s winter residence
sapling sounds flow again honey-sweet
as if voices of older men in the fen of
sixies repeat the sun pouring down
like honey the lily-worn
traveler


yet the traveler who fed them
did so in under sense and with
her own sense of matter
living the ah-part apart from
the material world; she
fed them and their old voices carried


& Lily’s men bring something hospitable here
but whether laced or not, their fen-sensing
is made lacey with age; sit down
listen to it thickening in greenery
the scenery around you a fen for U-R
gathered around you, the soul-making you are



©2011 A Fen Again stephanie pope mythopoetry.com
photoshop pencil sketch panorama, Lily In Fen ©2011