Vino & Verse

Picnic Lunch

National Poetry Month

NPM

Ta Da!

Wimpy Kid...Eats Cake

One of the best parts about working in book publishing is the people. 8 hours a day, five days a week, I'm surrounded by people who are just as obsessed with books as I am. Books of all kinds: kids' picture books, young adult novels, contemporary art books, fashion biographies, graphic novels, farm-to-table cookbooks...the list goes on.

Fun fact of the day: Did you know that April is National Poetry Month? I didn't, until I started working at Abrams. Truth time: I've never been a big fan of poetry. I never really got it. Still don't, to be honest. I love the classics, of course: Shel Silverstein, Maya Angelou, Shakespeare. But other than that, I'm pretty clueless.

This last month at Abrams has been quite the educational experience. Our CEO is the biggest poetry advocate I've ever met, and every day he has emailed a poem (or more) to the entire company in honor of National Poetry Month. Poems have been printed out and tacked to the walls of our office. And today, to close out NPM with a bang, I attended Vino & Verse.

Okay, truth time again: I signed up for the "vino" part. But, as it turns out, the "verse" part was my favorite! Many of my co-workers--including myself--gathered in the conference room and shared a picnic lunch of mini baguette sandwiches and wine (I know, so me, right?) before we each shared a poem. I chose "Life Doesn't Frighten Me" by Maya Angelou (may she rest in peace; Go Deacs).

Poetry may not be your thing...it certainly wasn't (and, really, still isn't) my thing either. But sometimes, a poem comes along that speaks to you. Here are two of the poems (as well as the Angelou poem) that stood out for me today.

“Life Doesn’t Frighten Me” by Maya Angelou

Shadows on the wall

Noises down the hall

Life doesn’t frighten me at all

Bad dogs barking loud

Big ghosts in a cloud

Life doesn’t frighten me at all

Mean old Mother Goose

Lions on the loose

They don’t frighten me at all

Dragons breathing flame

On my counterpane

That doesn’t frighten me at all.

I go boo

Make them shoo

I make fun

Way they run

I won’t cry

So they fly

I just smile

They go wild

Life doesn’t frighten me at all.

Tough guys fight

All alone at night

Life doesn’t frighten me at all.

Panthers in the park

Strangers in the dark

No, they don’t frighten me at all.

That new classroom where

Boys all pull my hair

(Kissy little girls

With their hair in curls)

They don’t frighten me at all.

Don’t show me frogs and snakes

And listen for my scream,

If I’m afraid at all

It’s only in my dreams.

I’ve got a magic charm

That I keep up my sleeve

I can walk the ocean floor

And never have to breathe.

Life doesn’t frighten me at all

Not at all

Not at all.

Life doesn’t frighten me at all.

“Forever Party” by Russ Woods

I am always having a party. When I am in the shower in the morning, shampoo party. This is how I live. Everything I do is a party. A funeral? That’s just a party with a new ghost. Yesterday I was having a watching TV alone party, which, as many of you partiers know, can easily slip into a going to bed early party, but not after setting my alarm party, because you can’t forget that you have a work party early the next morning. And by work party I don’t mean a collective party at my place of work because I like to think of those as work party parties. I just mean, going to work, to do my job, which I interpret as a party, because that’s the kind of lady I am. I’m a party gal. My work party today was great. My work party today was great until a flock of crows crashed my work party, crashed through the window and covered every surface. The crows made me nervous, and there was all the broken glass. I asked the crows what they were doing there and they ended up coming home with me. Sometimes that kind of thing happens at a party. They come home with me and I drew a hot bath party but forgot to lock the door and they landed all over my naked wet body. It was one of the crazier parties I’ve had. Three crows drowned. I wrapped their tiny bodies in soft white cloth and threw them a funeral (aka new ghost party). I thought I would never stop crying.

“A Jar of Balloons or the Uncooked Rice” by Matthew Yeager

Have you ever had a haircut so bad

you cried? When you open the drawer

after having poured yourself a bowl of cereal,

do you reach for a small or a large

spoon? How conscious are you of your

posture? Will you agree to let a lover use

your toothbrush? Which chemicals’

smells do you like? During which phase

of your life did you acquire the bulk of your

friends? Have you ever quit a bad job

emphatically, ripped off a uniform or apron,

thrown the balled-up cloth at a superior,

then stomped off? Grey or gray? Who

most often terminates your telephone

conversations, you or the person to whom

you’ve been speaking? In your bad dreams

do you ever throw the slow motion

punch? Are you punctual? Is your signature

legible? Have you ever had a birthday go

uncelebrated? What’s the largest TV set

you’ve ever lived with? Showers or baths?

How much cash doo you like to carry?

Ever been knocked unconscious?

One large winter coat or layers? If you cross

paths with someone walking a dog, do you talk

first to the person or the dog? Do you eat

or give away pickles? What’s the highest

floor on which you’ve ever lived?

Who is your most promiscuous friend?

Do you get jittery during airplane

turbulence? How jittery? Do you still drink

glasses of milk? How many people

have lived with you? How’s your balance?

Have you ever ridden in a limousine?

What are the chances, would you say,

of you becoming, one day, the president

of anything? Greater than none?

When did you learn to write checks?

Can you accurately size up the square

footage in a room? What games do you play

with small children you meet (such as

faking snatching off their noses by poking

a thumb between fingers)? Where you live

is the night sky starry? How high

can you kick? Have you wasted

much thought as to what you’d do

were money suddenly no limitation?

Cake cones or sugar cones? ...