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Poetry Information Site Map
Welcome to the Town of Feeling MORE RESOURCES: Site: Yahoo! News Search Results for poetry Pa.'s 'Poetry Pond' free for fans (Courier-Post) Poets and their fans are invited to Tyme Gallery's annual Poetry by the Pond on Saturday, Sept. 27. Veterans to present poetry reading at Gallery X (The Standard-Times) NEW BEDFORD ? Whaling City Review LIVE and Gallery X present a Veterans Poetry Reading at 7 p.m. on Saturday, Sept. 13, at Gallery X, 169 William St., downtown New Bedford. Love of poetry inspires fellowship (Arizona Daily Wildcat) Mary Ann Campau was always an avid supporter of local poets and the UA Poetry Center. She even hosted free poetry workshops in her own home up until her death in 2005. Poetry and Jazz During the Petaluma Poetry Walk (All About Jazz) The Petaluma Poetry Walk is an annual event in its 13th year. This year it will take place on September 21 from 10am-7pm. Each hour there is a different stop along the walk in downtown Petaluma, and a poetry reading. The Poet Laureate of California, Al Young, is scheduled to read at 3pm. Writer: Poetry is visual vehicle (Kearney Hub) SANTA FE, N.M. ? Poetry asks us to slow down and look carefully at the world. Poetry a source of comfort and healing (The News Journal) Every year as the 9/11 anniversary approaches, psychiatrist Saleem Khan pours his feelings into poems documenting the horror of the day and the pain that reverberates across time. Poetry class helping break down walls in McLoud (The Oklahoman) McLOUD ? If not for the black block lettering across the back of their gray shirts saying "INMATE,? the women in the poetry workshop could be mistaken for creative writing students at any local university. Heads down and hands feverishly writing across the page of a composition book, words spill from their pencils. Some women wipe tears away as they empty thoughts onto a page. Others appear ... Not poetry, but not bad (Pahrump Valley Times) Let's say someone wronged you. They cut you off in traffic. Stole from you. Backed into your car and didn't leave a note. Hacked into your computer and left a virus. Single Dad Overcomes Rocky Childhood to Publish First Book of Poetry (Newswise) Eric Watts, a 30-year-old single dad living in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, has published his first book of poetry, "Cellar Door: Volume One," which deals with his turbulent early life. He is making sure his two daughters have a much happier childhood and will be signing copies of his book at the Brooklyn Book Festival on Sunday, September 14, at Borough Hall in Brooklyn. Longfellow Historic Site announces poetry award winners (Cambridge Chronicle & Cambridge Tab) The Longfellow National Historic Site announces the winners of the Longfellow Student Poetry Awards, an annual contest recognizing original poetry from local students from the Greater Boston area. Warning: MagpieRSS: Failed to parse RSS file. (> required at line 14, column 29) in /home/.hellodolly/jsteiner64/scholarlyarticles.org/poetry/magpierss/rss_fetch.inc on line 238 Site: Warning: Invalid argument supplied for foreach() in /home/.hellodolly/jsteiner64/scholarlyarticles.org/poetry/inc/rss.php on line 26 |
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RELATED ARTICLES
The Merchant of Copan [In English and Spanish] English VersionThe Merchant of Copan[480 AD]Advance: The ballgame at the Honduras courtyard in Copan, the year was 480 AD, Copan's 3rd ruler, Mat Head, whom succeeded Quetzal Macaw, whom was the founder of the city is now the new ruler. Mat Head, was a female, the spouse of Quetzal Macaw, and here is where the story begins. Uamaks Aquatic [suspense: now in Spanish and English] Delicately, my mind was selecting a muffled tune, out of the dead dark empty space surrounding me?I saw a shape on a rock, not sure who it was; I had a sensitivity though, a feeling call it, or second-sight; I've heard that before, not sure if I want to put a lot of credence into it, but so be it, the sensitivity and numbness was there. I didn't' sense any danger in the moment, in the moonlit figure, sitting on the rocks, lurking, looking out into the deep. It Was Not Me It was not me as I am now.It was not me as I was then. New Poetic Work By Ethiopian Immigrant Promotes Respect, Courage And Cultural Sensitivity McLean, VA - "The Healing Conscious" tells the story of an Ethiopian immigrant boy on his fascinating journey to America and adulthood. Author Kifle Bantayehu, a 23 year-old second-generation Ethiopian immigrant, recounts this poignant tale in poetic format. Way of Life: Rhymes of the Inca [four poems: see in Spanish and English NOW!] Way of Life: Rhymes of the IncaPizarro(Spanish conquistador ((1525))The blind follow the blindThe dumb follow the foolBut the cleaver, like 'Pizarro,'(who could not read or write)Followed human-nature?And ruled the Inca world!Thus, Atahualpa was Beheaded out of pride and Indolence-: one might say,And ignorance ruled? .Note: don Francisco Pizarro #689 5/27/05Cepeda the Sly[Lima, Perú-l546 AD]Cepeda the Sly-, judge With two sides; one false,One pride-both mixed with lies. Tsunami -a Poem Dedicated To Help Aid and Awareness and Encourage Future Harmony. Make Peace Not War Real Power.One Tsunami, and all our armies,Seem belittled by their wars,What Animals fled, and tribesmen read,Finally Arrives with crushing roar,Wholesale slaughter, purely by water,Makes us seem an irrelevance,Concepts of power, change by the hour,Faced with primal elements. Memoirs of a Wastelands Rim [a Poem: now in Spanish and English] Memoirs of a Wasteland's RimIt still was light when she paused at the wasteland's rim-Over, the rim rest like a sleeping brute, a wooden frameAdjacent to the blue where early stars hung like oil lampsHanging from old beams and shade?the wooden frameHer footing caught the beams, as she had fallen onto itAlone, she watched the forenoon, climbing around herA drifter woman, marked by life, and slanting dreams With appearance of hurt and molded muscle on her faceHer figure etched against the wooden frame,She tried to jump, and lost her balance, hanging like a birdNow sipping the gloom in the ledge and shattered hopesShe yielded before the sluggish advance of sunsetBlood dripped, with her dying darknessAnd a crimson moon hurled a flame acrossThe shadowy clouds, burning throughout the skyThe tormented sky above her?Crossing the valley's floor her eye gripped itRocky images, highest pointsThrusting herself up boldly from to the ledgeThe painted morning blushed over the rimHer brows and nose, face against the granite stoneMassive injuries was taking form,Her silhouette floating so indolently across the sunIt was too great a task-to die alone?she wished nowShe had not jumped?a thousand feet below, yet to go.Too much for any woman in a lost worldOut of the weak wood her mind had peace; She knew soon it would all be over-alasMute and protesting against life's uselessnessA narrow path lay below her slender bodyBetween death and attainment, a careless footThe rocks beneath her weakening, she plungedPlunged to her death, in the carving hands of the valleyThinking of it, as she fell, thinking with a smiled,Saying, looking up-dead before her echoes: 'Time is short?time is short?time is short!'When they found her, her face was unafraid of falling. Burning Autumn Leaves [a poem in Spanish and English] Burning Autumn Leaves[1950s in St. Paul, Minnesota]My long steel pointed rake punctured And twisted through tons of autumn leaves(back in the '50s);And there's a hill yet, I didn't rake, I seeBehind it, two embankmentsLeaves I didn't rake a day ago;The essence of fall sleeps on the ground. The Dead God of Copan (in English and Spanish) English VersionAnd the Death God said: "Let it rise to its glory in the Rio Valley-for a season; then let it be gone, we shall call it Copan?"Prologue: Empires come and go, liken to cosmic events, or the storms around the world: Atlantis, Mu, Greece, Persia, Rome, the Inca Nation, and even the great Maya heroic times of Copan, in Central America. All came and all left, one way or another; now just dust and artifacts in the spiral of time. Looking Out the Rear Window The funeral rite concludedWith the pastor shaking hands,Offering words of comfortI didn't quite understand.The undertakers came forthAnd summoned pallbearers' four. Storm Rising along the Lima Coast Storm Rising along the Lima Coast [Summer of 2002]?wind was blowing furiously It never left for a moment Bursts of fury I found it difficult to keep My feet placed, thus, I clung to my knees For one blissful moment I could not now disguise it From myself Some subtle feeling Manifested itself Then the current drew Sharply away from me With her mystery-Back out into the open sea Yet-, still it roared back at me! It was an expressed release It made my head swim I noticed it kept-step With my exultation!?#761 7/14/2005Notes: There are mysteries to the sea, at times it seems as to have its own mind, its own character; as if nature was plugged into all that exist. Earth itself being an entity with its own lively soul. Two Poems: Boyhood, and Old Age [with a note on style] BoyhoodOh me! Thy glorious days have flown!I mealy noticed, now they're gone,How quickly passed the flowers!Time does not stop youth's bells;It was like I was in a spell,And my face now shows the hours!Ah yes! My youthful past days,Still lively in my golden age,When all was quick and newNow wrapped in pictures and books,And friends and family were all I knewAnd love was shown by friendly looks!#741 6/26/05Old AgeThey stop by to see me nowTo find what's old and new,They peer into my-everything, And criticize my views;They tell me what I should like,And that I should be grieved-These are my fragile friends That takes the strongest liberties?I mean to take the buzzer off;And put the phone outside the door;In vain I speak to tell them why-I shan't live here anymore!#742 6/26/05A note on Style: some people ask, "What style of poetry to you like the best?" I can never answer that question; it is open-ended to me. If I feel like breaking free from tradition as in the poem of: "Old Age," so be it; and if I feel traditional verse, a stricter formal pattern should be used, as in "Boyhood," and can contribute richly to the poem, so it is. Elizabeth Barrett Browning: A Discussion of How Do I Love Thee? "How Do I Love Thee?" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning was written in 1845 while she was being courted by the English poet, Robert Browning. The poem is also titled Sonnet XLIII from Sonnets From the Portuguese. I Shall Wait... I Shall Wait.. Barriers There are many times I set upbarriers and walls,invisible unless you come too close,And then you hit them.You wonder what happened. A World That Doesnt Care War bombs may explode demolishing man and land.Hurricanes may devastate and leave us entirely bare. Biography of Charlotte Bronte Charlotte Bronte (1816 -1855) Novelist and Poet.Charlotte was the daughter of the Rev. Birthday Messages I WANTED TO SAY IT WITH A BUNCH OF FLOWERS A CARD WOULD HAVE SUFFICED.I WANTED TO SAY IT WITH A PACK OF SWEETS A' HI' WOULD HAVE SUFFICED. Banana Republic Like a cat I slumber, blissfully unencumbered,Through eighty per cent of my allotted span,Occasionally awoken, when dissent is spoken,And I invent another cunning five year plan,Lately it was pensions, that were being mentioned,So I borrowed from the French and Robespierre,Scrap all that went before, saved by tooth and claw,And let my all equal Citizens appear,Currently it is time, for me to be in my prime,For there is another election looming,I have to appear sincere, for part of this coming year,And assure everyone that everything is booming,Never mind strict quotas, Ive imported multitudes of voters,And told them which party let them stay,Though Ive rigged the postal vote, and defamed everyone of note,You never know what might happen on the day.So to be on the safe side, I swallow all my pride,And allow my people to hear my hallowed voice,And roll out the charade, put on the facade,And even make believe they have a choice,Next time around the crown, will be trampled underground,House of Lords and Lord Chancellor history,With the other Chancellor gone, I alone will soldier on,Yes, then there will only ever be me,Ill hold elections for you, as all dictators do,And fill positions with those that grease my palm,As for civil unrest, there is always house arrest,Or secret imprisonment for those that mean me harm. Lifes Too Short Time goes by to quicklyto hold your feelings insideEspecially when their so strongeven if they don't abide..
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