Showing posts with label Selecting A Reader. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Selecting A Reader. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Ages go and history flows
ever repeating and growing.
Common mores get wound up and disdain,
then relax, relearn to empathize
with a lyrical writer's life passion.
Could any sanity have expected,
predicted, or dreamed,
that in two-point-five thousand years
your ardor would not be forgotten?
Yet still in the heaps
of a library's deeps
a peruser will find
a sweetbitter mind,
How could writing so ancient
and yet so fervent be?
Neglected, eponymized Sappho,
would you have selected me?
By Turtle Shell
--------------------
One of 1-25-11's "selecting a reader" poems.
ever repeating and growing.
Common mores get wound up and disdain,
then relax, relearn to empathize
with a lyrical writer's life passion.
Could any sanity have expected,
predicted, or dreamed,
that in two-point-five thousand years
your ardor would not be forgotten?
Yet still in the heaps
of a library's deeps
a peruser will find
a sweetbitter mind,
How could writing so ancient
and yet so fervent be?
Neglected, eponymized Sappho,
would you have selected me?
By Turtle Shell
--------------------
One of 1-25-11's "selecting a reader" poems.
What if my reader couldn't read at all?
Someone less fortunate than you and I.
Whether they be a he or a she, it doesn't matter to me.
They'd look at the canvas that holds my thoughts.
They (my words) would be open to interpretation,
After all my reader can't read.
They'd be words of inspiration, an answer to prayer.
They'd be conversation on a rainy day.
They'd be the idea of 'nothing is impossible'.
And so my reader, the he or she, they'd learn to read.
And they'd find my poem was exactly what they need.
By Erin Merrell
--------------------
One of 1-25-11's "selecting a reader" poems. This one was sent to The Commuter for publication.
Someone less fortunate than you and I.
Whether they be a he or a she, it doesn't matter to me.
They'd look at the canvas that holds my thoughts.
They (my words) would be open to interpretation,
After all my reader can't read.
They'd be words of inspiration, an answer to prayer.
They'd be conversation on a rainy day.
They'd be the idea of 'nothing is impossible'.
And so my reader, the he or she, they'd learn to read.
And they'd find my poem was exactly what they need.
By Erin Merrell
--------------------
One of 1-25-11's "selecting a reader" poems. This one was sent to The Commuter for publication.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
This was just submitted by a friend of the LBCC Poetry Club. A bit early, but hey, why not?
Selecting A Reader
She is as naked as I am
and passionate
about show don't tell.
Selecting A Reader
She is as naked as I am
and passionate
about show don't tell.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
First, I would have her be beautiful,
and walking carefully up on my poetry
at the loneliest moment of an afternoon,
her hair still damp at the neck
from washing it. She should be wearing
a raincoat, an old one, dirty
from not having money enough for the cleaners.
She will take out her glasses, and there
in the bookstore, she will thumb
over my poems, then put the book back
up on its shelf. She will say to herself,
"For that kind of money, I can get
my raincoat cleaned." And she will.
Ted Kooser
-------------------------
The prompt for 1-25-11's club meeting is "selecting a reader". If you could have exactly one person read your poetry, who would it be?
and walking carefully up on my poetry
at the loneliest moment of an afternoon,
her hair still damp at the neck
from washing it. She should be wearing
a raincoat, an old one, dirty
from not having money enough for the cleaners.
She will take out her glasses, and there
in the bookstore, she will thumb
over my poems, then put the book back
up on its shelf. She will say to herself,
"For that kind of money, I can get
my raincoat cleaned." And she will.
Ted Kooser
-------------------------
The prompt for 1-25-11's club meeting is "selecting a reader". If you could have exactly one person read your poetry, who would it be?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)