Ride a Purple Pelican

No blog mini series involving both Sabina and poetry would be complete without a tribute to my favorite poetry book of all time, Ride a Purple Pelican.

I first began “reading” using this book. I would memorize the poems and the associated picture, then recite the poems in rhythm to my little sister. She would soon get bored (or scared of me—that was frequent) and scoot away quickly, and I was left to myself with the book. I had a few favorites, and a few that made me cry (and I still don’t know the one about the gander and the geese and the sea, or whatever). I think my love of words and rhythm, rhyme, and poetry were—if not born from, then fed by—this book.

Late One Night in Kalamazoo

Note: Young Sabina had a hard time saying her “l”s, and they usually came out as “y”s. This title sounded much more like “Yate—One—Night—In—Kayimazoo!”

Late one night in Kalamazoo, the baboons had a barbeque

The kudus flew a green balloon, the poodles yodeled to the moon.

The monkey strummed a blue guitar, the donkey caught a falling star

The camel danced with the kangaroo, late one night in Kalamazoo.

At least, that’s what I remember it being.

Poor Potatoes

Note: This one always made me cry, and I could rarely finish it. Not sobbing, just teary-eyed and a little choked up. My mom read it to me a lot (maybe she thought I was cute when I cried?) so I hear it in her voice. We grew potatoes, and I was happy to dig them up out of the ground.

Poor potatoes underground, never get to look around

Never get a chance to see butterfly or bumblebee

Never see the blue, blue sky

What a waste of all those eyes!

Like I said, these are what I remember, what, 17 years later? Perhaps it has been longer than that since I memorized them. The other one I liked the best was “Bunington Bunny.” I can only remember one stanza:

“Rumpity tumpity rumpity tum, Bunington Bunny is beating the drum.

He doesn’t look up and he doesn’t look down, all through the rumpity tumpity town”

The rhyme continues, but that’s the part that stuck—the rhythm of the poem, and the proper way to focus when you march. My mother also took the opportunity to explain how to properly wear a traditional marching band hat, called a shako (yes, I was no older than 5. Probably younger). This poem was my gateway drug into the world of drumcorps and later marching band. Go, Mom! Start ‘em when they’re young.

Long Curly Hair

As most of you know, I have very, very curly hair. Generally unruly, certainly frizzy, and certainly easier to take care of when short.

However, I like wearing my hair long.

I have cut it short only twice since I got permission to grow it out(Hereafter referred to as the Traumatic Haircuts of Despair). THD Number One occurred when my roommate Tara Hill tricked me into getting it cut--long story, but there was a bet that should not have ever come to fruition, and then it did, and my word is my bond. Therefore, I technically chose to get it cut of my own free will, but I still blame Tara.
The second time was less under my control. I had an unfortunate physical ailment the last two Fall semesters, and the first bout of it forced me to get a fairly traumatic A-line haircut. It was cute. Many people did not understand quite why I was so upset about it. I realized there was an underlying reason (aside from the fact that I look fabulous in cascading curls). This poem was written between Traumatic Haircut of Despair: Numbers 1 and 2, and provides a bit of explanation. It is on a more serious note then the above, rather trite, introduction.

My Mama’s Curls

“Why don’t you cut your hair short again? It’d look so cute that way!”

I looked back at you closely, not sure of what to say.

My mind’s eye sees a mem’ry, so long ago, so clear

Of my mama on the telephone, and I was standing near.

She tossed her head back and she laughed— A truly joyful sound

And on her finger, auburn-red, she twirled her hair around.

It wrapped around that finger, always just the same

A pretty fan of brown, gold, red; and never truly tame.

She rubbed the curl across, stroking gently with her thumb

Then let go and toss it back, then take another one

I snuck around behind her to try to do the same

Watching oh so closely, then went to grab my mane

Of hair. I then remembered, with a sudden sorrowful sigh

That I’d gone to get a haircut, now my hair would not comply

As I tried to wrap my finger. I then began to cry

I told myself right then and there, that someday I would be

Exactly like my mama, the woman of my dreams.

That mem’ry of the phone call, and the twisted lock of hair

Stayed with me then and always, but never had I shared

The reason that I always felt a love for curled long hair.

“Hello?” you said, and waved at me, “Sabina, are you there?”

“Oh,” said I, now with a smile,

“I guess I just like it better long.”

--Sabina Säfsten, 3/23/09 (1:30am)

More poem!

Looking back through old computer files, I found quite a few poems. Some of them I wrote, some of them I memorized for a class or kept simply because I liked them. Perhaps I will share more of them here. Feel free to comment or give me new topics to write about. Actually, that would be great! More topics to write about!

I think it would be easier to update if I took more pictures. At least, more interesting.

This blog has no focus at all, which makes some sense as I feel like my life has very little focus right now either.

So, I guess for now I will post a poem I wrote, after reading in Isaiah. I really love that book. I wish I understood it better; I need to be more diligent in my study. When I don't have as many things pressing my schedule, I get a little lax in my intensity. I believe the phrase is "growing slothful because of the easiness of the way."

Here it is.

Isaiah’s Christ: Shepherd, Warrior, Judge, and King

A Sestina

Jehovah comes from Edom in his might

One by one, with outstretched arms, He gathers

Those who, with humble hearts, would call him LORD.

He, who earth and hearts hath mulled and weighted,

Assessed the earth’s great waters in his Hand

And tells the cov’nant people to behold--

To lift their eyes on high, and first behold

Then follow Him with heart and mind and might.

Oh, Israel, hath God yet shortened his hand?

Hath He grown tired? Nay, but still He gathers

Sinners’ hearts. The hills Jehovah weighted

With a scale; “The winepress,” saith Christ your LORD,

“I hath trodden alone. I am the LORD;

My crimson robes a victory to behold,

For I looked and, being alone, I weighted

Down the winepress in my fury and might.

Now with tender mercy will I gather

And cover thee in shadow of my hand.”

Yahweh shall hold thee up in His right hand,

That all the nations know I AM your LORD.

The dumb idols burn, Jehovah gathers

Those who would His covenanted be. Hold

fast to Him by whose power and might

is thy salvation, thy judgment weighted.

Your Jeshua with patience hath waited, and

borne all thy sins with the nails in His hands,

That in his latter coming, all earth might

Know that salvation cometh through the LORD.

For when the mighty angel cries “Behold,

A white horse, and He who rides shall gather

His people,” the heaven’s armies gather

Behind Him who with rightness hath weighted

And made war. Look up, oh Israel! Behold

His vesture dipped in blood, His outstretched hands.

He is called King of Kings, and LORD of Lords,

Who comes to thee in power and in might.

Raise your eyes, lift your voice, behold His might,

And blessed be those who wait on the LORD.

The shepherd gathers Israel in His hand.



Sorry the formatting is odd. The last line should be formatted the same as the rest.
A sestina is a pretty strict poetic form. I'd only written one before, back my freshman year, while in a poetry war with one Andon Carling. It was fun, and it turned out to be quite useful.

I love words.

"Sorry! I'm allergic": A Parallel of Food and People

"Sorry! I'm allergic."

So, someone mentioned to me the other day that our relationship to food is a lot like our relationship to people.

As I thought about this, the more it seemed to apply to me.

For those of you that aren't aware, I am allergic to... a lot of things. Basically how it works is, the more I eat of a food, the more my body builds an intolerance to it, which develops into a full-blown allergy. I am naturally VERY allergic to some things, moderately allergic to others, and other foods I just have to keep on a rotation so I don't react to them as much.

Also, I am an aspiring chef.

These things do not blend well.

So, back to the food/people analogy:

--I have rarely met a food I didn't like, or at least appreciate. However, as previously mentioned, there are a lot of foods that don't like me, or at least, that can only handle me every once in a while. That one is pretty self-explanatory.

--I don't often remember what food tastes like. Odd, eh? I remember what it smells like; I remember it is "good," or "odd," or "Blends well with tomato," or "Tastes like the color teal, with a bit of a clarinet-y aftereffect" (not kidding) but I don't often remember exactly what it tastes like. This is good in that I don't get fatigued of a food very quickly--it always seems new and delicious--but I sometimes don't do a good job of rotating food. Therefore, the food gets annoyed at me (allergies flare and cause problems) before I remember to rotate around. Sometimes I wear out friendships in a similar fashion; I love just spending time with people--hanging out yesterday doesn't satisfy me today, with some things. I just remember I liked it yesterday, and why not do it again today? This can cause problems, as people often need to take me in smaller doses.

Cheese is a food that doesn't often bother my system (not like regular milk or other dairy). This is great, as it is usually a pretty safe food for me, but if I eat too much of the same kind, especially consistently over long periods, it starts to get irritated and decides to make me ill. Usually there is very little warning. I just eat it as usual, and then as soon as it hits my tummy I know I crossed the line.

--Sometimes I'm a little wary of trying new things for myself because I don't know how my body will react to it. I will cook with new things and feed it to other people, if I have some experience with the food, or someone who knows it well can describe it accurately. I am, however, very wary of what I actually consume. This applies to people in that I will work with people quite easily, even in things like matchmaking, if I know enough about them. However, I am very careful about who I actually let in as friends.

--Sometimes, I eat food even that I'm really allergic too, because I remember it being my favorite. Take, for example, peanut butter. Or chocolate. Delicious foods, and for much of my life, my allergy to them was minor. I remeber growing up with them--we had great times, peanut butter and I. Chocolate and I, too, for that matter. But as I grew up and developing the allergy, I knew eating them would mess me up. I would convince myself it was worth it, that it wasn't that bad. Sometimes my body wouldn't react at all, but many times I paid heavily for eating them. Same with some people. I remember growing up together and being perfectly fine (or just not realizing I was having a problem). I would continue to include these people in my life even after they messed me up (many times, badly), because I remembered all the good times.
Moral of the story: Sometimes things change. So do people. So do I.

--I often cook for other people. I love putting combinations together and making people happy. Sometimes I can eat it, sometimes I can't. When I can't eat it, I like having cheese and crackers for dinner, or cheese with a little bread and fruit, or--if my allergies are flaring really badly--just cheese. With people, I love throwing parties. I get different groups of people together, combine them in different ways in different environments, and see what happens. Sometimes I like to be part of the party, but oftentimes, I would just prefer to host and let everyone else have fun. And have cheese for dinner.

--I really like making bread, but wheat is one of my top allergies. I understand bread, and how all the ingredients work together to get a particular kind of loaf. I'm not a fan of store-bought, stereotypical bread, though it does have its place in the world. However, I do not know very much about cheese. I know which flavors are my favorite, which ones smell bad, and what they blend best with (aka i know how to use the cheese) but I know relatively little about the inner workings of cheese, as I have only experienced it as a consumer. I am well on my way to becoming an amateur connoisseur of cheese, however, because of consuming it frequently and having been exposed to a wide variety of excellent flavors, textures, origins, and uses of cheese. There does still seem to be a bit of mystery, though, as I have never experienced it on a personal level, like I have bread. I certainly do not have a favorite flavor, though I do have favorites in specific culinary situations, as well as a type or two I like for frequent, day-to-day snacking.

There is more to this analogy. However, this post is already really long, so I'll save it for tomorrow.

Things I Love

audiobooks
Library Cards
clean laundry
having a (functioning) washer and drier IN MY HOUSE
having money to pay rent
pretty clothes
friends with talents they are willing to share
eating well
cheese
berries
having time to do crochet projects
working desk
clean rooms
sunny days
talking to friends
modern technology
The Family: A Proclamation to the World
sour cream/neufchatel fruit dip
fancy dishes
telephones
water
grass
space
gardens
coincidences
BYU Campus
fresh bread
scriptures
lds.org
man sweatshirts
Batman sweatshirt. Mine.
yard work
gym memberships
pretty yarn
drumline music
marching band
my CTR ring
my hat
my clock
bicycles
bus passes
friends that help me do cool stuff
cute stuffed animals
dance shoes
dancing
cooking for people
feeling pretty
skipping
walking through flower gardens
having adventures
my cowboy hat
Hobby Lobby
having money to GO to Hobby Lobby
California Adventures
the Block at Orange
big rooms to have parties in
hosting parties
talking about intelligent subjects
going on dates
talking about intelligent subjects while on dates
frolicking
Jamba Juice
my yellow blanket
Bobby the Cow
Calvin and Hobbes
canning fruit
making applesauce
exploring
cool clothes
logic puzzles
learning

Obviously, I am having a good day. :-)