Margaret Tod Ritter - 5 Very Short Poems (1925-28)

Forgotten Poems #79

     
              —: Dedication :—

       And there were mirrors in every room:
       Full length; no bigger than the hand.
       Each one was set about with precious stones
       And some were broken.
     

     
               —: Hymn To The Rockies :—

       The great hills rise majestic,
       Loving the ways of silence,
       The purple of deep shadows caught in a veil of blue;
       They know the peace of solitary meditation
       And the glamour of communing with their own souls . . .
     

    
              —: Roads :—

       I love enchanting roads that curve
       Between tall rocks and trees,
       Little roads that nose them out
       A thousand mysteries
       Nor keep a straight and narrow path
       But wander where they please.
       

     
              —: New England Sabbath :—

       Sunshine and asters,
       Sermons and pastors,
       Organs and singing
       And temple bells ringing.
       These and the swallows,
       Hilltops and hollows
       Incite us to riot
       O calm, Sabbath quiet!
     

    
              —: Dusk: A Cinquain :—

       A tree
       Against the sky
       And then no tree at all
       But just an inky silhouette
       On grey.
    

Margaret Tod Ritter (1893-1986): “A native of Maryland, now lives in Colorado Springs.” (The Measure, 1925) “Member of Poetry Society of America and the Poetry Society of England. She refuses to give her age; 'Which,' she says, 'means I COULD be younger'; and she pronounces herself 'a perfectly charming person'.” (Overland Monthly & Out West, 1924)

Laura Gilpin - Portrait of Margaret Tod Ritter (1925)

“In writing of Margaret Tod Ritter, Mildred Watson speaks of Ritter as having a rightful place in the company of such poets as Edna St. Vincent Millay, Sarah Teasdale, and Joyce Kilmer. May I add that she seems also to be considerably indebted to Adelaide Crapsey, who is said to have originated the cinquain form, so admirably used by Ritter... It is a pleasure to see signs of influence coming from such beautiful and perfect work as that of the late Crapsey, and I am hoping to see more examples of that interesting form, the cinquain.” (Grace K. Wadleigh, in The Literary Digest, 1925)

I am not sure why reading Margaret Ritter’s work lead me down this path, but there’s no stopping a poem once it wants to be written, and this is what arrived. It’s a hard world at the moment, on so many fronts. Lots of love to everyone, and to use a phrase Laurence and I coined, riffing on the well-known feminist maxim, to remind ourselves of one of the roles of poets in times of difficultly: the personal is the political is the poetical!

     
              —: After Margaret Tod Ritter :—
                             by Dick Whyte

              I.

       & what if the world
       ended
       & this was the last
       poem
       anyone ever wrote

              II.

       first we used sticks
       & then stones
       & then swords
       & then guns
       & then bombs
       & then

              III.

       as a child
       i used to dream
       of a field
       harvested by hand
       just before it happened

              IV.

       should we sing of pain?
       yes!
       should we sing of joy?
       yes!
       should we sing?
       yes!

              V.

       & all that is left to say
       is sorry,

       sorry for not being
       kinder

       sooner
     

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