MaryAnn Franta Moenck

Spring comes to Minnesota

2011-05-04T09:20:00.003-05:00

On little cat feet, in little catkins, on the white blaze of a deer's tail as she bounds away. This morning a very pregnant doe looked as if she was working very hard at trying to appear light-footed. Her belly is big and full. I wonder if she might have twins -- and how soon.

Wishing you similar, wonderful sightings, dear reader.

Best,
MaryAnn

Happy Thanksgiving!

2010-11-24T17:49:00.002-06:00

And I am thankful for family, health, snow, and poetry.

My thanks, too, to Rosebud magazine for sponsoring the William Stafford Poetry Award. I am thrilled to have my poem, "Inkwell" selected as a runner up for the prize. I was lucky enough to meet William Stafford at the Port Townsend Writers' Conference back in the late 1980s. He has been a light along my path ever since. It's an honor to participate in Rosebud's endeavor carried on with his name.

This holiday season please support your favorite arts organizations, non-profit publishers, and literacy programs in your community.

And be of good cheer!

Blessings,
MaryAnn

Happy news!

2010-05-25T20:11:00.003-05:00

Today I received news that two of my poems, "Intimate" and "In the weeks after she died I kept on walking" were semi-finalists for the Pablo Neruda Prize in Poetry. Nimrod sponsors the competition, and has accepted those two poems for publication in the fall.

I'm having a great little week. I hope the same for you!

Cheers
MaryAnn

Some Ride!

2010-04-28T07:21:00.002-05:00

Last week it was farewell from the University of Minnesota Department of English to my former and ongoing poetry writing teacher, Michael Dennis Browne, as he took his retirement. The department hosted a festschrift in Michael's honor, to which I was a contributor and witness. Here is the article from the Minneapolis Star Tribune, where I also contributed some thoughts on Michael's teaching strengths, and above all, his generous heart.

The celebration included reminiscence, poetry, and song, by colleagues, collaborators, students, friends, family, and by Michael, himself. It was a pleasure to hear such a range of voices and perspective as we celebrated a career that has been really Some Ride!

Blessings, Michael, as you go forward in a new phase of your career.

Write on!
MaryAnn

submit, submit, submit

2010-03-14T10:37:00.004-05:00

Hello friends,

If you write, and if you occasionally love something that you write, if ist feels just right, send it out to an editor! Submit it for the world's attention. Surely it is hard to get attention these days, with all the information at our virtual doorsteps, but your writing does nothing in a drawer. If any contribution to the collective is to come from you, it must be exposed to daylight. Fresh eyes are out there willing to receive your words. Send them out!

And as for rejection, it's all part of the process. I keep a fat file of collected rejection letters. They just spur me on to improve on those poems and try again. Creative writing is not for sissies. And it isn't just for yourself to read. It is a gift, and gifts are meant to be shared. So don't be stingy! Send your poems and stories out into the world. Somewhere, sometime, they will be received and appreciated.

Good luck, always,
MaryAnn

Happy New Year

2009-12-29T17:17:00.001-06:00

I love these days after the solstice.
The morning sun is lazy, reluctant to spill his gold over the hills.
The afternoon is bright, but deep with shadows.
Night arrives soon -- very soon.

Wishing you all the best for the year ahead,
MaryAnn

Thankful

2009-11-12T09:21:00.002-06:00

Hello, All,

It's the season of thankfulness -- for family, friends, good health ...
I hope you are enjoying all of those blessings.

Thank you for visiting here, too. I hope you enjoy reading a few poems. Consider giving a gift of poetry to someone this season. A book or a literary magazine of your choosing makes a fine present. Treat yourself, too!

Best to you,
MaryAnn

Summer's over.

2009-10-01T08:19:00.002-05:00

I am pleased to have a poem called "Listening, A Guest in the Old Log House" forthcoming in The Literary Bohemian later this fall. Outside, it's rainy, cold. There's a blustering wind. This is the same sort of day as the occurrence of this poem. We were visiting friends at their log house in Ontario. I hope you will take a look at The Literary Bohemian in November.

Water~Stone Review celebration reading

2009-09-11T07:24:00.002-05:00

I am thrilled to be reading for Water~Stone Review at their annual celebration on October 16. The reading will be at Sundin Hall on the campus of Hamline University in St. Paul. My poem, "Lilacs for the Blacksmith's Wife" will appear in the latest edition. Hope you can attend. The details will be posted at Water~Stone. See you there!
Best,
MaryAnn

Two new tiny poems

2009-07-15T19:48:00.003-05:00

I always love a call to write small. Thanks to Right Hand Pointing for publishing two little poems I very much enjoyed putting together.

Here is my wish to all who visit here for a wonderful few weeks of full-summer. Thank you for stopping by!

Best to you,
MaryAnn

BAP-Q

2009-06-01T15:58:00.002-05:00

Check out Bosphorus Art Quarterly on line BAP-Q. It's a neat little journal with some edgy poems and engaging gallery bits. Nice stuff! And the poetry editor likes my work, too.

Water~Stone chooses "Lilacs ..."

2009-04-15T18:25:00.003-05:00

It's a beautiful spring day, and Water~Stone Review has just chosen "Lilacs for the Blacksmith's Wife" for this year's upcoming print issue. I am thrilled! And I am indebted to Jude Nutter and my friends at the Loft Literary Center for their wise feedback on earlier versions of the poem. I am very grateful for the literary community in the Twin Cities.

"Battle Creek in Winter" and "Bare Hills in Spring"

2009-04-10T14:05:00.002-05:00

I am pleased to report the acceptance of two poems for this year's edition of Steam Ticket, which is published in print by the University of Wisconsin - LaCrosse. It should be out in April.

Spring has arrived in Minnesota. The chorus frogs have awakened and are singing on the ponds.

Happy Easter!
MaryAnn

"Girl, Eye to the Ice" in Natural Bridge

2009-03-03T16:44:00.004-06:00

Welcome to my online home! I'm pleased to announce that Natural Bridge has accepted my poem "Girl, Eye to the Ice" for publicaton this spring.

Meanwhile, we are enduring the dregs of a Minnesota winter, looking for the sunshine. I wish you blessings on your way.

Best to you,
MaryAnn

Just posted on In the Mist

2009-01-13T16:37:00.006-06:00

Please take a look at my poem "Apple" on In the Mist. There's also a link in the list on the right hand side of this page.

Hope you are warm, wherever you may be!

Write from your heart!
MaryAnn

2009 - Happy New Year!

2008-12-27T10:52:00.003-06:00

Dear Reader,

I wish you a healthy and prosperous year ahead, with many a good line to turn your mind in a fresh direction each day!

Write on!
MaryAnn

American Heritage

2008-11-09T00:16:00.006-06:00

Loose curls of apple peel lie piled to the side
on the wooden board. In half, stem to blossom end,
then quarters. With a neat turn of the knife
out spill dark seeds, the hulled core. From this quartered
orb slice thin longitudes, then chop chop chop
apple chips on the board. Quick, efficient. That’s how I learned
geometry, I suppose, and astronomy, while the kitchen lamp
shone on this side, then that, of a tilted orbiting apple.

Now I am in another country, guest of a friend.
Between us in her kitchen the common geometry of a pie,
and rising on the fragrance of cinnamon,
old stories her grandmother recited, the tunes
that both our mothers hummed. We talk
of the old ways, of bread proofed above a woodstove,
the way our mothers baked “by feel,”
ingredients measured by heft in the hand.

Beside me my foreign friend rotates the whole apple,
a globe, over and over in her hand, whittling
little random wedges that drop directly to the bowl.
I watch, proud of my mother’s lessons, my own
deft dissection of the apple, --my way
faster, my friend’s more relaxed,
safer perhaps; short strokes, the blade controlled,American Heritage

Loose curls of apple peel lie piled
on the wooden board. In half, stem to
blossom end, then quarters. With a neat turn of the knife
out spill the dark seeds, the hulled core. From this
quartered orb slice thin longitudes. Quick, efficient.
That’s how I learned geometry, I suppose,
and astronomy, while the kitchen lamp
shone on this side, then that, of a tilted orbiting apple.

Now, the guest of a friend, I am in another country.
Between us in her kitchen the common
geometry of a pie, and rising on the fragrance
of cinnamon, stories our grandmothers told,
tunes that both our mothers hummed. We talk
of bread proofed above a woodstove,
the way our mothers baked “by feel,”
ingredients measured by heft in the hand.

Beside me my friend rotates the whole apple,
a globe, over and over in her hand, whittling
little random wedges that drop to the bowl.
I watch, proud my own deft dissection of the apple—
my way faster, my friend’s more relaxed,
safer perhaps; the apple in her hand smaller
and smaller; short strokes, the blade controlled.

This poem first appeared in Cimarron Review, Issue 162, Winter, 2008.

Welcome!

2008-10-03T13:11:00.003-05:00

Welcome to my poetry home. Here you'll find links to my published writings online, information about my print publications, and other news.

More coming soon.

Until then, write on!
MaryAnn