Tribulations of a Playful Poet | A Preview from Living in the Nature Poem by Mary Harwell Sayler
In ten days we will celebrate the release of Living in the Nature Poem by Mary Harwell Sayler [June 15th release]. Here is the final poem in our preview series “Tribulations of a Playful Poet.” The advance praise is in and readers already know what we discovered months ago—that Mary’s latest work is timely, elegant and insightful.
“In Living in the Nature Poem, Mary Sayler gives us more than just a journal of the natural world: she gives us an interaction with a world populated by characters as diverse as cells and stars. Exploring biology, astronomy, and sociology, Sayler writes elegantly about the ‘universal need known to artists, children, poets,/who, poised in mystery, must/watch and wait and wonder.’ And she does it with a nice helping of humor, describing human tissue as ‘cliques that become/known as Bone, Gland, Organ,/ Blood, Artery, Vein,’ and recounting her battle with a bug in amusingly theological language. Living in the Nature Poem is a good read by an inspired writer, one who knows her craft and plies it well.” —Annmarie Lockhart, Editor, vox poetica
“In her book Living in the Nature Poem, Mary Sayler gives us poems that explore the taste of mind, body and soul that are crafted with sophistication, wit and an emotionally satisfying rhythm. It is an exciting read. “ —Alice Shapiro, Poet Laureate of Douglasville, Georgia
“Mary Harwell Sayler allows us the opportunity to see the natural world and nature poetry from a fresh perspective.” —Dana K. Cassell, Executive Director, Writers-Editors Network
“Not all the poems in this rich collection focus on flora and fauna…Yet all the poems in Mary Sayler’s book are like the shops on the harbor which “soften / into pastel hues / smudged by a flamingo- / pink sun until every pane / of window glass / turns peach-tinged, then / coral, then / rose-colored / and totally believable.” This book is highly recommended.” —Yakov Azriel, poet and author of Threads From A Coat Of Many Colors and In The Shadow Of A Burning Bush
Tribulations of a Playful Poet
The alligator owns all rights
to the lily pads,
gliding by, right when I’m writing
If I were to wade into the waters
around a dry bouquet
the head of the alligator
would bloom beside me.
Where can I hide
from this presence?
How can my poems evade
the hidden claws,
the baffling jaw
eager to emerge?