A night bleeds,
always
dreams crease
and bend around
your head
filling words
and spaces
with unknown
lives lived in
another world.
Tag: writing
What’s happening? A Reflection on Ukraine, COVID-19 and More
What’s happening? I’ve been trying to stay calm; I’ve been digesting everything going on in my personal life and the world for months now, a little in shock and a little overwhelmed. Where do I start? Well…
The Invasion of Ukraine and the Potential for World War III
Ukraine has settled into a permanent space in my brain. When I read the latest news, a thrum of anxiety pulses through me at different vibrations. The video, the photos, the reports of the destruction, the murder; these people’s lives are just torn apart because Putin wants to play old-world games that can no longer happen without the entire world watching. I’m so grateful we have the technology we do so the world can use its voice to speak out against Putin’s actions.
We might end up with a World War III, but I’m hoping not every day. I’m hoping they make it, that they can push Russia out, and the world won’t give up telling Putin he can stick it. But after the last six years of chaos, living during the tyranny years of Trump, COVID-19, the Black Lives Matter protests, the rise of white supremacist groups gaining support from the GOP, the corrupt actions of the Trump and his followers to overturn the election, I wouldn’t be surprised if this is next. Suppose the world ends up going to war. If we have to unite and fight for democracy and freedom, then so be it. Even as the last veterans and people who lived during World War II pass on and we fight Nazism here in the U.S., we can’t let the war crimes of Putin go unchecked. Unfortunately, my bruises haven’t healed, and they’re still tender to the touch. I’m trying to stay positive, but now I’m planning for the worst.
Check Out These Resources to Help Support Ukraine
Ukraine Humanitarian Assistance Account
Moving on or Moving Forward with COVID-19?
Am I trying to move forward? It’s not gone, eradicated, not at all. So many have lost family and friends to the virus, and now there’s a disconnect between those still grieving and struggling to deal with what happened these last two years and those ready to live life pre-March 2020.
I’m trying to move forward, but I’m not going to forget how many died and continue to perish because of the virus. I admit I’m wearing my mask less in public spaces. One of the reasons we moved to SF in the first place is that it’s a city where most people take COVID-19 seriously. I feel safer in San Francisco with our extraordinarily high fully-vaxxed rates and the percentage of people who’ve received their boosters.
An Intermission: Where’s my Mind? In San Francisco and Beyond
It’s quiet tonight. I can hear the rhythmic buzzing of the cable car line moving on Powell Street. I gulp down lukewarm mango ginger tea and wonder if I’ll have time tomorrow to read more from The Vintage Book of Contemporary American Short Stories. There hasn’t been much time to sit and read. I attempted two days ago to sit on the rooftop patio of the apartment building and read bits of Tales of the City. I became distracted by an older couple, maybe Gen Xers, arguing and putting in my Bluetooth earbuds to blast ocean sounds on Spotify. Back in my apartment, the neighbor slams their door down the hall; the glasses in my kitchen rattle. Why does everyone in this building like to slam doors? There’s nothing wrong with peace, but this is a city, so the sound is as loud as the stench of piss in the streets. I’m used to it now, but sometimes it’s more noticeable when I’m thinking like this.
There’s a numbness that has settled into my routine. I’m trying to balance my daily life, absorbing world news, and managing my stress. What is there to be stressed out about? Too much, I guess. Maybe it’s the inflation. Perhaps it’s the consistency of hate crimes directed toward the AAPI and LGBTQIA+ community. My stomach flips as I read about Texas’ abortion law and how other red states are writing their own as fast as possible so they can reverse the rights women have fought for for generations. What the hell is going on here?
This is only the beginning. Expect to see a weekly post like this one where I dive deep into my reflections on what’s going on in the world and my life. I’m just a writer, a poet, juggling things as I go along. Want to chat? Leave a comment below or email me at alinahappyhansenwriter@gmail.com.
We all need to help each other survive these days to have safe places to live for years to come. Have resources you’d love to share to help support Ukraine, AAPI, and LGBTQIA+ communities? Please share, and I will as well.
Liked this post? Feel free to check out “Life During COVID-19 in SF: Feeling Fall, A Month of Halloween Vibes and Writing More” or maybe something a little different? Try “Summer in San Francisco: A Writer’s Second Year” ?
How to Read a Poem [Explained in 140 Characters]
Read the poem, take a deep breath, and look away. Come back, slowly re-read it aloud, and let the imagery and sensory details overwhelm you.
Want more? Check out Let’s Talk Poetry or read some of my Poetry!
30 Poetry Books You Must Read: How-to’s, Collections and Anthologies
Here is an extensive list of 30 poetry books I highly recommend! You’ll find how-to’s on writing poetry, collections, and anthologies of poems.
Do you have poetry books that you’d recommend? Leave a comment below and let’s chat!
Books on Writing Poetry
Here are my top four reference poetry books that I use to write my poems. Complete with how-to’s, advice, and details on countless poetry forms.
Poemcrazy: freeing your life with words by Susan Goldsmith Wooldridge
New Rhyming Dictionary and Poets Handbook by Burges Johnson
Modern American Poetry Edited by Louis Untermeyer
Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics
A Book of Women poets from Antiquity to Now Edited by Aliki Barnstone and Willis Barnstone
Poetry Collections & Anthologies
These are some of my absolute favorite poetry collections and anthologies. They span the old and the new, and I just can’t get enough of them. If you’re looking to dive into poetry, I recommend you pick up one of these and give it a go!
The Vintage Book of Contemporary American Poetry Edited by J.D. McClatchy
The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson
Selected Poems and Letter of Emily Dickinson Edited by Robert N. Linscott
Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman
The New Modern American and British Poetry Edited by Louis Untermeyer
The Collected Poems of Wilfred Owen Edited by C. Day Lewis
The Faber Book of 20th Century Verse Edited by John Heath-Stubbs and David Wright
The Complete Poems of Marianne Moore
Birds, Beasts, and Seas: Nature Poems from New Directions Edited by Jeffrey Yang
Howl and Other Poems by Allen Ginsberg
Ovid: the Metamorphoses Translated, and with an Introduction by Horace Gregory
Rilke: A Life by Wolfgang Leppmann
The Collected Poems of Theodore Roethke
The Selected Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke Edited and Translated by Stephen Mitchell
The Odyssey Translated by Robert Fagles Introduction and Notes by Bernard Knox
i six nonlectures by E.E. Cummings
Herman Hesse Poems Selected and Translated by James Wright
A Season in Hell and The Drunken Boat By Arthur Rimbaud Translated by Louise Varese
A Wild Patience Has Taken Me This Far: Poems 1978-1981 by Adrienne Rich
Selected Poetry of Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe
One Hundred Modern Poems selected with an introduction by Selden Rodman
Anthology of Modern Japanese Poetry translated and compiled by Edith Marcombe Shiffert Yuki Sawa
No Nature: New and Selected Poems by Gary Snyder
Liked this post? Take a look at Let’s Talk Poetry!
This blog posts contains Amazon affiliate links, which means, if you purchase a book through one of the links provided, at no extra cost to you, I will earn a small commission 🙂
Here is the Night [a poem]
Here is the night. The moon hangs heavy but is hidden by a thick fog. Bridge lights
flicker like glowing fireflies in the distance. A dampness clings, kisses skin, moistens clothes,
and miniscule drops float in the air colliding with disheveled hair. The slow drawl of the cables, the
burning odor of metal on metal, decades old, time floats in the air, moving and pushing us toward
the future, a place we cannot avoid. A horn honks in the distance, another in response, the city
crawling with life trapped in a sea of fog, here is the night.