My Poetry Month Poem + Poems by Jean Colonomos + Podcast

https://open.spotify.com/episode/1bKmdGi98yHTSe70pLcbyf?si=e83bad712bc640b4

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In Honor of Poetry Month by da-AL

Grace loosed in body
thrums into dance.

Dance swirled into words
is poetry.

Poetry and dance
and all the arts.

How empty life is
minus any.

Happy Poetry Month — seriously, freedom of art merits year-round celebration. Case in point, I visited a neighborhood park in Tehran, Iran, some years ago during springtime. Strolling arm-in-arm with an in-law, I marveled at the watercolor expanse of fragrant blossoms. Inspired, I paused to demonstrate a basic flamenco dance step. My cousin stopped me, glancing over her shoulder as she explained that all but traditional dance is illegal there.

Ignorance and shock are luxuries.

Today’s guest, Jean Colonomos, is a poet.  She used to dance with The Martha Graham Dance Company in NYC in the 1960s. On the subject of Graham, according to Wikipedia, Graham’s mark on modern dance is equal to how Pablo Picasso changed our concept of modern art, on par with Stravinsky’s influence on music, and akin to Frank Lloyd Wright’s impact on architecture.

Pardon as I digress for a moment from Jean again. Here’s a video with the famed Martha Graham. She’s with another icon whose accomplishments also continue to rock the world long after her death.  Author/disability rights activist Helen Keller lost her eyesight and hearing at 19 months old…

Back to Jean, when Jean left dance, she became a dance journalist, poet (her poems run in journals such as poem.com), and most recently published her autobiographical Living the Dream.

This interview with Jean was produced by the Ventura County Poetry Project…

 

These newest of her poems combine her early married life with her current life as Nana to William, now Will, who is 12 on May 31, 2024. 

Date Night by Jean Colonomos

Two months after our daughter’s birth,
we went on a date to a nearby restaurant.

I got out of my milk-stained sweats,
trotted out my royal blue silk blouse and
salt and pepper pants.

We’d vowed to be adults,
not talk about parenting..

My responsible nephew who lived below us,
who knew our daughter from the get-go
was in his good hands. 

But it was new being a couple on our own and
after we ordered, we didn’t know what to say.
Suddenly breast milk wet my lovely new blouse.

I started to cry but laughing, took my hand—
this is who we are now, you said when the food arrived

I fiddled with my wedding ring,
the ones you’d designed,
hitching a ride on your wisdom—
grateful to leave the imposed rule behind.

Order Please (for four-and-a half-William) by Jean Colonomos

I call my grandson the Prince of Order.
He places his miniature cars and action figures
in military lines and if anyone intrudes,
he dissolves into thunderous chords.
So, when his family of five entertain guests.
this boy, who dislikes strangers,
hugs the cleaning woman as if
with a swish of her fairy godmother wand,
she will bring order to the chaotic whole.

Have you dabbled in poetry?