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Saturday, February 11, 2012
Hello all!
Most of us have done all our midterms by now, and i hope they all went great!
As many of you know, febuary is Black History Month, and on febuary 28th some of the members in the poetry club will read their favorite poems written by some amazing African American poets.
But, more info on that later.
This weeks poetry club prompt is those moments still come back and like in the past couple of weeks, it is accompanied by a poem. Enjoy!
The Old Age of Nostalgia by Mark Strand
Those hours given over to basking in the glow of an imagined future, of being carried away in streams of promise by a love or a passion so strong that one felt altered forever and convinced that the smallest particle of the surrounding world was charged with a purpose of impossible grandeur; ah yes, and one would look up into the trees and be thrilled by the wind-loosened river of pale gold foliage cascading down and by the high melodious singing of countless birds; those moments, so many and so long ago, still come back, but briefly, like fireflies in the perfumed heat of a summer night.
Come join us at our usual time and place this week for poetry club! (3-4 at the Hot Shot cafe!)
Most of us have done all our midterms by now, and i hope they all went great!
As many of you know, febuary is Black History Month, and on febuary 28th some of the members in the poetry club will read their favorite poems written by some amazing African American poets.
But, more info on that later.
This weeks poetry club prompt is those moments still come back and like in the past couple of weeks, it is accompanied by a poem. Enjoy!
The Old Age of Nostalgia by Mark Strand
Those hours given over to basking in the glow of an imagined future, of being carried away in streams of promise by a love or a passion so strong that one felt altered forever and convinced that the smallest particle of the surrounding world was charged with a purpose of impossible grandeur; ah yes, and one would look up into the trees and be thrilled by the wind-loosened river of pale gold foliage cascading down and by the high melodious singing of countless birds; those moments, so many and so long ago, still come back, but briefly, like fireflies in the perfumed heat of a summer night.
Come join us at our usual time and place this week for poetry club! (3-4 at the Hot Shot cafe!)
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1 comments:
Sorry, i have mispelled February many times in this post.
It's late.
But it won't let me edit it.
So.
Sorry!
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