Friday Poem: You Must Never Ignore Self
It may be in the sky, in sand, in dream you’ll find your Self.For some, the search may never end. Don’t give up! Trust yourself! Whatever you do, don’t sell
‘The Chilean Forest’ by Pablo Neruda
Under the volcanoes, beside the snow-capped mountains, among the huge lakes, the fragrant, the silent, the tangled Chilean forest… My feet sink down into the dead leaves, a fragile twig
Jim Harrison: Why I Write
I used to tell students…the difference between poetry and you is you look in the mirror and say, “I am getting old,” but Shakespeare looks in the mirror and says,
Thursday Poem: When the Sun Settles
I only write at nightThe dark seems to illuminateThoughts not given the time of day –by DAF at Hello Poetry
Wednesday Poem: Ghazal For Brevity
A mantra sets in with just one word.A dream can end with just one word. A human’s lifetime of asking questions—why?—will begin with just one word. The babysitter fastened baby’s
Tuesday Poem: Ars Poetica
She took me home—or what I thought was home,but was in fact a hell she made for us.We left The Sound of Music with the fussthat I was making, working out my
Goethe, Iqbal, and a Mysterious Ode to Silence
by Shadab Zeest Hashmi at 3 Quarks Daily: “Aik Shaam,” “An Evening (By the River Neckar)” is Iqbal’s ode to silence. A short lyric poem, it describes a rare personal
Continue readingGoethe, Iqbal, and a Mysterious Ode to Silence
How ‘Classical’ Music Was Revolutionary
by Joel Sandelson at Aeon: We habitually associate literary realism with things like down-to-earth subject matter, plausible detail and convincing chronology. For the ancients, though, realism had just the opposite
Monday Poem: “The Not Knowing Tears” by Gustavo Barahona-Lopez
7-year-old Guatemalan girl who died in Border Patrol custody is identified… Each day I open class with a morning circle.Nineteen 7- and 8-year-olds siton a colorful rug. Talk abouttheir favorite
Continue readingMonday Poem: “The Not Knowing Tears” by Gustavo Barahona-Lopez
Writing is a Monologue With the Self; There is Nothing Between the Person and the Page.
by Rafia Zakaria at Dawn: ONE of the best gifts an artist — in this case, a visual artist — gave me was to show me what she called her
Sunday Poem: We Have Said So Many Goodbyes
by Annika Ziff Glueck (age 12): for my grandmother lost to Alzheimer’s Today we remember you.And will always remember you,Even though we said many goodbyesThese past years. Goodbye to the
Saturday Poem: Dear Future Self
If I should ever forget you,this is my love note to you You were lovedYou were somebody’s loverYou were lovingYou held parts of all the women you loved,somewhere deep in