National Poetry Month: Lily Myers, Shrinking Women

Last year, one of my favorite authors, Delilah S Dawson, posted a link to a video. Now, I'm not in the habit of clicking on vid links - because, yeah - but I clicked on this link.

What I found was the most amazing, talented, and wonderful poet performing her work. I watched the video over and over again until the words had soaked into my bones. Then I sent the video to my sister and my mother. The poem was that good.

It's so good I feel compelled to share it with you now.

So, in honor of National Poetry Month I want to share the poem that blew my hair back. Shrinking Women by Lily Myers.

I hope you enjoy:

National Poetry Month - Jeffery McDaniel

If you follow this blog you know I have a deep love for poetry - the music of the written word. Even as a child I globbed onto verse with chubby, dirty, hands. It's my first love.

And with April being National Poetry Month I feel it is right to kick it off with one of my favorite contemporary poets, Jeffery McDaniel.

Watch this video of Jeffery performing his poem, The Ben Franklyn of Monogamy. Enjoy.

National Poetry Month: Susan Porterfield, The Last Azars in Kousba

Today is the last day of National Poetry Month. So why not go out with a bang? Today's poet is near/dear to me.

My love of poetry and the written word started well before college but I have my college professors to thank for developing my passions.

Here is my professor, Susan Porterfield, reading some of her work. Enjoy!

National Poetry Month: Lily Myers, Shrinking Women

Several months ago one of my favorite authors, Delilah S Dawson, posted a link to a video. Now, I'm not in the habit of clicking on vid links - because, yeah - but I clicked on this link.

What I found was the most amazing, talented, and wonderful poet performing her work. I watched the video over and over again until the words had soaked into my bones. Then I sent the video to my sister and my mother. The poem was that good.

So, in honor of National Poetry Month I want to share the poem that blew my hair back. Shrinking Women by Lily Myers.

I hope you enjoy:

National Poetry Month: Jeffery McDaniel

If you follow this blog you know I have a deep love for poetry - the music of the written word. Even as a child I globbed onto verse with chubby, dirty, hands. It's my first love.

And with April being National Poetry Month I feel it is right to kick it off with one of my favorite contemporary poets, Jeffery McDaniel.

Watch this video of Jeffery performing his poem, The Ben Franklyn of Monogamy. Enjoy.

In Honor of National Poetry Month: Sylvia Plath

When I think about poetry I think about Sylvia Plath. She was a volatile, complex person and that is evident in her work.
Here’s a great example, of one of my faves by Sylvia Plath:

Cinderella – Sylvia Plath
The prince leans to the girl in scarlet heels,
Her green eyes slant, hair flaring in a fan
Of silver as the rondo slows; now reels
Begin on tilted violins to span

The whole revolving tall glass palace hall
Where guests slide gliding into light like wine;
Rose candles flicker on the lilac wall
Reflecting in a million flagons' shine,

And glided couples all in whirling trance
Follow holiday revel begun long since,
Until near twelve the strange girl all at once
Guilt-stricken halts, pales, clings to the prince

As amid the hectic music and cocktail talk
She hears the caustic ticking of the clock.

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Learn more about Sylvia here:
http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/11
I adored reading her poetry but I also loved her prose. Her journals are fascinating.
Check out her work here: http://www.amazon.com/Sylvia-Plath/e/B000APTIGW



What poetry, or other art, do you love enough to keep in your nightstand?

In Honor of National Poetry Month: William Wordsworh

I can’t honor poetry without giving mad props to my man Wordsworth, William Wordsworth. *said in manner of 007 with improvised British accent* See where I fan girl-ed over him last year in this post.

Wordsworth’s body of work is extensive. And by that I mean awe-inspiringly huge. Which I good, because there are so many poems to love.

I have a palm-sized collection of Wordsworth poems that I keep in my nightstand next to my palm-sized Keats and Declaration of Independence and Constitution of the United States. In other words, I’m a word nerd.

Here’s a great example, of one of my faves:

Among All Lovely Things My Love Had Been – William Wordsworth

AMONG all lovely things my Love had been;
Had noted well the stars, all flowers that grew
About her home; but she had never seen
A glow-worm, never one, and this I knew.

While riding near her home one stormy night
A single glow-worm did I chance to espy;
I gave a fervent welcome to the sight,
And from my horse I leapt; great joy had I.

Upon a leaf the glow-worm did I lay,
To bear it with me through the stormy night:
And, as before, it shone without dismay;
Albeit putting forth a fainter light.

When to the dwelling of my Love I came,
I went into the orchard quietly;
And left the glow-worm, blessing it by name,
Laid safely by itself, beneath a tree.

The whole next day, I hoped, and hoped with fear;
At night the glow-worm shone beneath the tree;
I led my Lucy to the spot, 'Look here,'
Oh! joy it was for her, and joy for me!

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Learn more about Wordsworth here. Check out his work here.



What poetry, or other art, do you love enough to keep in your nightstand?

In Honor of National Poetry Month: John Keats

My first literary crush might have been on John Keats. I talked about it a little in my post, here.

I can’t be sure because I did an awful lot of swooning over poets when I was younger: Keats, Poe, Wordsworth, Plath, Dickenson, etc.

Keats always held a warm spot in my heart because he had a sad, short life filled with illness and heartache. His story fascinates me almost as much as his work.

Here is one of my favorites:

Faery Songs– John Keats
I.
Shed no tear! oh, shed no tear!
The flower will bloom another year.
Weep no more! oh, weep no more!
Young buds sleep in the root's white core.
Dry your eyes! oh, dry your eyes!
For I was taught in Paradise
To ease my breast of melodies,--
Shed no tear.

Overhead! look overhead!
'Mong the blossoms white and red--
Look up, look up! I flutter now
On this fresh pomegranate bough.
See me! 'tis this silvery bill
Ever cures the good man's ill.
Shed no tear! oh, shed no tear!
The flower will bloom another year.
Adieu, adieu -- I fly -- adieu!
I vanish in the heaven’s blue,--
Adieu, adieu!

II.
Ah! woe is me! poor silver-wing!
That I must chant thy lady's dirge,
And death to this fair haunt of spring,
Of melody, and streams of flowery verge,--
Poor silver-wing! ah! woe is me!
That I must see
These blossoms snow upon thy lady's pall!
Go, pretty page! and in her ear
Whisper that the hour is near!
Softly tell her not to fear
Such calm favonian burial!
Go, pretty page! and soothly tell,--
The blossoms hang by a melting spell,
And fall they must, ere a star wink thrice
Upon her closed eyes,
That now in vain are weeping their last tears,
At sweet life leaving, and these arbours green,--
Rich dowry from the Spirit of the Spheres,
Alas! poor Queen!

Learn more about his life here. Check out his collections of his work here.



Who’s is your favorite poet?

In Honor of Natonal Poetry Month: Robert Frost

I personally cannot think of American poetry without thinking of Robert Frost. I talked a bit about it in my post here.


I love how I can curl up in his words and feel the very warmth of the scene. Here is a classic Frost, I hope you like it.

Carpe Diem– Robert Frost


Age saw two quiet children
Go loving by at twilight,
He knew not whether homeward,
Or outward from the village,
Or (chimes were ringing) churchward,
He waited, (they were strangers)
Till they were out of hearing
To bid them both be happy.
'Be happy, happy, happy,
And seize the day of pleasure.'
The age-long theme is Age's.
'Twas Age imposed on poems
Their gather-roses burden
To warn against the danger
That overtaken lovers
From being overflooded
With happiness should have it.
And yet not know they have it.
But bid life seize the present?
It lives less in the present
Than in the future always,
And less in both together
Than in the past. The present
Is too much for the senses,
Too crowding, too confusing-
Too present to imagine.

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I just love the imagry. Need more Frost? Check out this post from last year.

You can learn more about Robert Frost and his work here. Check out compilations of his poetry here.


What do you love about poetry?

In Honor of National Poetry Month: Jeffery McDaniel

Those of you who know me know that I spent many years studying poetry in school. Poetry was my first love and it started when I was a little kid. My mother didn't read bedtime stories (well, she totally did, but still) she read bed time poems from a book of poetry for children. The rhythm, the imagery, the pulse - I was hooked.

One of my favorite contemporary poets is Jeffrey McDaniel. I stumbled upon his work because he spoke to the creative writing class my husband was taking at GA Tech (not a school particularly lauded for their liberal arts). My husband thought Jeffrey was brilliant. Here’s my post from last year.


McDaniel’s work if littered with powerful one-liner observations that leave me breathless.

Here is one of my favorite poems:

Mannequin Complex – Jeffery McDaniel
During my formative years,
my mother had this annoying habit
of taking me into shoe stores
and forgetting all about me.

She'd try on heels and pumps,
sandals and beige leather boots,
winking at herself in the mirror,
like she was Cinderella.

I'd crawl into the stockroom
behind the stacks of boxes,
until the last employee clicked
off the lights and headed home.

Then I'd emerge, place a shoe horn
in the palm of my favorite mannequin,
and sleep at her feet gleefully
because she was my flesh and blood.
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It ends with such a bitterly sad image. But can’t you picture it perfectly in your mind? I love love love it.
Learn more about him here. You can buy his books from Manic D press (You totally should – I have them all and they are fan-freaking-tastic).



Do you adore contemporary poets? Share! Tell us who rings your bell:

In Honor of National Poetry Month, William Wordsworth

I can’t honor poetry without giving mad props to my man Wordsworth, William Wordsworth. *said in manner of 007 with improvised British accent*

During my undergrad I primarily studied British Literature. When it came time to write my senior thesis-like-ginormous paper I knew I’d be writing about my swoony men with delicious accents.

Why did I pick Wordsworth? Well, because his body of work is extensive. And by that I mean awe-inspiringly huge.

Even now when I’m writing this blog it’s hard for me to find just one poem to share. I love so many.

I have a palm-sized collection of Wordsworth poems that I keep in my nightstand next to my palm-sized Keats and Declaration of Independence and Constitution of the United States.

It is a Beauteous Evening – William Wordsworth

It is a beauteous evening, calm and free,
The holy time is quiet as a nun
Breathless with adoration; the broad sun
Is sinking down in its tranquility;
The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the sea:
Listen! the mighty Being is awake,
And doth with his eternal motion make
A sound like thunder - everlastingly.
Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here,
If thou appear untouched by solemn thought,
Thy nature is not therefore less divine:
Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year,
And worship'st at the Temple's inner shrine,
God being with thee when we know it not.

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Learn more about Wordsworth here. Check out his work here.



What poetry, or orther art, do you love enough to keep in your nightstand?

In Honor of National Poetry Month, John Keats

My first literary crush might have been on John Keats. I can’t be sure because I did an aweful lot of swooning over poets when I was younger. That’s not to say my love of Keats is simple and fleeting. Rather, that I was head over heals in love with the rhythm of poetry. Period. Full stop.

As I got older some of my literary crushes fell to the side but never Keats. In fact, I have a tiny, palm-sized, collection of Keat’s poetry that I keep in my nightstand.

He had a sad, short life filled with illness and heartache. His story fascinates me almost as much as his work.

Here is my favorite:

Bright Star – John Keats

Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art —
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like Nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors —
No — yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft swell and fall,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever — or else swoon to death.

Learn more about his life here. Check out his collections of his work here.



Who’s is your favorite poet?

In Honor of National Poetry Month, Robert Frost

I personally cannot think of American poetry without thinking of Robert Frost. Maybe it’s because I grew up all over the Midwest and his imagery and subject matter feel like home.

I love how I can curl up in his words and feel the very warmth of the scene.

When I was studying in London my professor said Frost was one of the greats. He asked if everyone knew Frost and shockingly some of the European students didn’t know him. "0_o" My jaw hit the floor. What do they teach those kids over there? LOL.

The professor played a recording of Frost reading his own work and I got chills. To hear the man I had respected all these years reading the words I had loved all these years. I may have geeked out a bit.

Here is my all time favorite Frost poem. I hope you love it too.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening – Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

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I just love the cadence of the last two lines. I feel like just reading them makes me tired.

Brilliant.

You can learn more about Robert Frost and his work here. Check out compilations of his poetry here.



What do you love about poetry?

In Honor of National Poetry Month : Jeffery McDaniel

Those of you who know me know that I spent many years studying poetry in school. Poetry was my first love and it started when I was a little kid. My mother didn't read bedtime stories she read bed time poems from a book of poetry for children. The rhythm, the imagery, the pulse - I was hooked.

One of my favorite contemporary poets is Jeffrey McDaniel. I stumbled upon his work because he spoke to the creative writing class my husband was taking at GA Tech (not a school particularly lauded for their liberal arts). My husband thought Jeffrey was brilliant.

Being an traditionally educated study of great literature and poetry I was skeptical. Would my husband, with his advanced math and software engineering background, know brilliant poetry?

Yes. Yes he did.

McDaniel’s work if littered with powerful one-liner observations that leave me breathless.

Here is one of my favorite poems:

Letter To The Woman Who Stopped Writing Me Back – Jeffery McDaniel

I wanted you to be the first to know - Harper & Row
has agreed to publish my collected letters to you.

The tentative title is Exorcist in the Gym of Futility.

Unfortunately I never mailed the best one,
which certainly was one of a kind.

A mutual friend told me that when I quit drinking,

I surrendered my identity in your eyes.

Now I'm just like everybody else, and it's so funny,

the way monogamy is funny, the way
someone falling down in the street is funny.

I entered a revolving door and emerged
as a human being. When you think of me
is my face electronically blurred?

I remember your collarbone, forming the tiniest
satellite dish in the universe, your smile
as the place where parallel lines inevitably crossed.

Now dinosaurs freeze to death on your shoulder.

I remember your eyes: fifty attack dogs on a single leash,
how I once held the soft audience of your hand.

I've been ignored by prettier women than you,
but none who carried the heavy pitchers of silence
so far, without spilling a drop.

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I don’t think it gets any better than this line: “I've been ignored by prettier women than you, but none who carried the heavy pitchers of silence so far, without spilling a drop.“

That line is biting-mean and oozing venom. I love love love it.

Learn more about him here. You can buy his books from Manic D press (You totally should – I have them all and they are fan-freaking-tastic).



Do you adore contemporary poets? Share! Tell us who rings your bell: