Shirley Franklin Reads Poetry

Shirley Franklin reads her poetry and emcees at Northwords and Rice Creek Writers' groups' reading held at the Banfill-Locke Center for the Arts, Fridley, MN, April 8, 2011.                                                  

Word Order in Telugu vis a vis English Questions

I often notice a mistake like the one I saw today on a language website:  "What remote is called in Telugu?"

Without getting into the answer (which, I suspect, is, no need to translate, just use the English word!) , a comment on the question itself:  There's an important variation to note regarding the order of words when asking a who/what/when/where/why question in English.  *An appropriate form of the verb 'to be' (is, am, are, was, were) in the sentence should immediately follow the question word.

Ex:  What is your name?  NOT  What your name is?
       What is 'remote' called in Telugu?  NOT What 'remote' is called in Telugu.?

I think this mistake arises because these words would be at the very end of the sentence, or simply omitted, in the Telugu language.  But they* are expected, in English.  Or does the mistake follow on an English rule not to 'split infinitives...' 
Whatever the cause, the error causes a 'blip' in the flow of the language whether you leave them* out, or put them in at unexpected places!

I hope this helps!   ;-) 

Note to nephew about blogging and such

Good thought, Chris, using mnemonics, tho' I'd thought mnemonics was something more limited/specific than a sentence (tho #2: tho what that specific is/was I can't exactly define...haha) ...like, something catchy.  Revising yours to omit 'the' before the first '5th' and adding 'all' before 'the rest' seems a little catchier; maybe the flow of sounds of the words (is that what they call diction??) fits in the ear (thus the memory) better...Try it and see what you think. 
Let's try again to discipline ourselves to reflect and/or hone our written expression via the blog regularly, hm?  A couple of my friends have recently asked me for mine...which, you can see, has been silent for over a month...and I am flummoxed as to why I can just sit at the computer and 'let'er rip' about life in India, but produce nothing but wooden prose (wood chips, at that) here at home.  The flow is dammed somewhere (ironic choice of words, there??) Is it because Grammy once told me "Never put down on paper what you don't want someone else to read" after, I realize now, she (must have) read the journal I was attempting at the time, when I was in junior high? 
It was a discarded, partially used not-quite-standard-sized spiral notebook (aagh, I hated the way the spirals caught and stuck together when carried along with other books!) with an burnt ochre-colored cover, its narrow-lined pages rounded on the outside corners.  What I'd written in it, I don't remember, and what happened to it, I have no idea.  I suspect words never made it past the cover where I'd doodled a human figure over the notebook's previous owner's name.  The figure, I DO recall, was slightly embarassing, and further covered by copious scribbling, leaving a large, unsatisfactory blot in its place. I don't think I tried journalling again until I went to India in the  sixties...what wet blankets well-meaning comments by parents (or anybody, for that matter) can be for our budding talents, our latent gifts.
Yet I also remember unbidden appreciation of my writing ability from a variety of people over the years. Usually shrugged off with a laughing "Some day I'll write..."  So let me try this blog again, replacing what in Telugu is 'siggu,' by recalling those encouragements...But what are they?  What is the mnemonic for remembering something you've hidden away for 'some day' but lost track of, over the years...?? (Deja vu...I'm just reading HOTEL ON THE CORNER OF BITTER AND SWEET, where a search through a cellarful of suitcases and other belongings plays an important role...) Hm, can an action or a location play a ROLE? 

What to do next...

Okay, napowrimo poem-a-day month is over.  Not that I couldn't keep on writing one-a-day, but now I intend to explore different aspects of poetry, writing paraphrases of definitions,  and attempting to exemplify each aspect for several days as I focus on it. ( 'Looks like I should practice re-writing my intentions in clearer written English!)  Stay tuned!

I Never Knew

How appropriate for the last day of the write-a-poem-a-day month: the
one forming in my mind is a retrospective look -- based on a poignant
remark made by a gentleman I visited during a neighborhood survey.


What the Widower Said

by Shirley Smith Franklin

She's gone, he said.  We were
married forty six years,
but she's been gone for six weeks now.
Forty six years we lived together,
slept together, ate together...
We had three children together.
I went to work, while she kept house.
Raised our children all by herself,
but they've all grown up and left us.
Now she's gone and left me, too.
I never noticed all the things she did,
that needed to be done around the house.
The sugar bowl's empty.  I never noticed
that somebody had to fill the sugar bowl.

napowrimo poem-a-day month, day 29 and still determined!

Song for a Family
by Shirley Smith Franklin

Praise to the dad
who doth bring home
the bread and the bacon.
Praise to the mom
who doth all the same
plus the cooking and baking.
Cherish their children
who brighten their lives
with talent and mischief and glee.
Cherish grandparents
who relieve mom and dad,
from time to time setting them free.
Relish the going
and coming together
of child, parent, grandparent, spouse,
through illness and health,
in all kinds of weather,
for living makes home of a house.

Sometimes the news overwhelms me

Hence, today's poem.  My knee-jerk reaction, after reading it, was to apologize
for bringing the bad news.  But, let's face it.  It's true.  And what does that mean
I should do?  And what does it mean for you???

Today, Someone
by Shirley Smith Franklin

Today you awoke early, had a snack, then went for a nap, on the sofa.
Yesterday, a tubercular teenager died in Nepal.
Today you had breakfast, juice, mushroom omelette, and toast with
                                                                                  raspberry jam.
Today a smiling child is dying of AIDS in Botswana.
Today, for a lark, you served your husband his breakfast in front
                                                                                          of the t.v.
Today a child in Syria holds a rifle in his hands for the very first time.
Today you cooked on a glass stove top in a fully electrified kitchen.
Today a woman in Sudan fans a small fire which she fans to keep it
                                                                                             burning.
Today you sigh over too many advertisements in your virtual and real
                                                                                         mailboxes,
while somewhere a soldier's mother learns she will never get another
                                                                             letter from her son.
Tomorrow a young commoner will become a princess,
while a young servant girl in India is being raped.
Did you ever stop to think, Someone, that everyday, somewhere,
that every day, everywhere, humanity is dying.