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Post by theravenking on Jul 5, 2020 20:45:04 GMT
"A Letter To My Aunt Discussing The Correct Approach To Modern Poetry"
by Dylan Thomas
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Post by Nalkarj on Jul 5, 2020 22:48:02 GMT
“By St Thomas Water” by Charles Causley
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Post by Morgana on Jul 6, 2020 9:49:27 GMT
"Television" by Roald Dahl I love that! Isn't it sad though that things have only gotten worse?
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Post by theravenking on Jul 7, 2020 16:37:19 GMT
"Television" by Roald Dahl I love that! Isn't it sad though that things have only gotten worse? I wonder how he would react, if he could see today's kids glued to their smart phones.
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Post by Morgana on Jul 7, 2020 18:30:18 GMT
I love that! Isn't it sad though that things have only gotten worse? I wonder how he would react, if he could see today's kids glued to their smart phones. He would have a fit.
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Post by Nalkarj on Jul 8, 2020 2:34:00 GMT
“Miniver Cheevy” by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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mmexis
Sophomore
@mmexis
Posts: 860
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Post by mmexis on Jul 10, 2020 6:06:08 GMT
"Television" by Roald Dahl I love that! Isn't it sad though that things have only gotten worse? HAVE things gotten wore though? And how we would he feel about it as all students have been forced onto screens and remote learning because of COVID? Yes, they may be glued to their smart phones, but they are reading maybe more than ever. While I am not a fan of reading online (I am behind in the reading I am doing for a selection committee because I have to read ALL THE REST online!) But let' give the kids a break, please.
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Post by Carl LaFong on Jul 13, 2020 12:52:54 GMT
Poem of the week: The Sparrows of Butyrka by Irina Ratushinskaya Now even the snow has grown sad – Let overwhelmed reason go, And let’s smoke our cigarettes through the air-vent, Let’s at least set the smoke free. A sparrow flies up – And looks at us with a searching eye: ‘Share your crust with me!’ And in honourable fashion you share it with him. The sparrows – they know Who to ask for bread. Even though there’s a double grille on the windows – And only a crumb can get through. What do they care Whether you were on trial or not? If you’ve fed them, you’re OK. The real trial lies ahead. You can’t entice a sparrow – Kindness and talents are no use. He won’t knock At the urban double-glazing. To understand birds You have to be a convict. And if you share your bread, It means your time is done. Translated by David McDuff www.theguardian.com/books/2020/jul/13/poem-of-the-week-the-sparrows-of-butyrka-by-irina-ratushinskaya
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Post by Nalkarj on Jul 14, 2020 11:08:55 GMT
“Atlantis” by W.H. Auden
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Post by Carl LaFong on Jul 27, 2020 12:43:44 GMT
If I Were to Meet by Grace Nichols If I were to meet the ghost of my childhood running with slipping shoulder-straps and half-plaited hair beside a brown expanse of memorising water and the mellow faces of wooden houses half-hidden by a weave of coconut, mango, guenip trees I would say this was her childscape this was where she was shaped like first words formed on slate – A raw and lyrical landscape that witnessed her carelessness of death, her fall from tree, her near muddy-pool drowning and how nothing seemed to separate her from anything – Not from the equatorial sun or sailing moon or shooting stars of black tadpoles – If I were to meet the ghost of my childhood – I would kneel beside her for a while – this slip of a brown girl gazing at fish shapes under brown sunlit water – patwa, sunfish, butterfish – mesmerised by their movement and the silent scales of their music. Then I’d straighten up leaving her in her elementary world, her bright aloneness. Oblivious of me. www.theguardian.com/books/booksblog/2020/jul/27/poem-of-the-week-if-i-were-to-meet-by-grace-nichols
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Post by Carl LaFong on Jul 29, 2020 12:23:58 GMT
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Post by Nalkarj on Aug 18, 2020 14:50:53 GMT
“The Rosehead Nail” by A.E. Stallings
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Post by Nalkarj on Aug 31, 2020 3:21:03 GMT
“Beans and Franks” by Donald Hall
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Post by Carl LaFong on Sept 28, 2020 8:13:49 GMT
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Post by Nalkarj on Oct 12, 2020 20:35:06 GMT
“October Maples, Portland” by Richard Wilbur
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Post by theravenking on Oct 13, 2020 11:17:11 GMT
Celestial Music by Louise Glück
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Post by Nalkarj on Oct 16, 2020 2:04:01 GMT
“Equations of the Light” by Dana Gioia
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Post by Nalkarj on Oct 29, 2020 16:11:43 GMT
“Theme in Yellow” by Carl Sandburg
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Post by mikef6 on Oct 29, 2020 21:18:58 GMT
Epilogue by Charles Baudelaire, trans. by Arthur Symons
With heart at rest I climbed the citadel’s Steep height, and saw the city as from a tower, Hospital, brothel, prison, and such hells,
Where evil comes up softly like a flower. Thou knowest, O Satan, patron of my pain, Not for vain tears I went up at that hour;
But like an old sad faithful lecher, fain To drink delight of that enormous trull Whose hellish beauty makes me young again.
Whether thou sleep, with heavy vapors full, Sodden with day, or, new appareled, stand In gold-laced veils of evening beautiful,
I love thee infamous city! Harlots and Hunted have pleasures of their own to give, The vulgar herd can never understand.
A Prose Poem by Baudelaire, trans by Symons
Be always drunken. Nothing else matters: that is the only question. If you would not feel the horrible burden of Time weighing on your shoulders and crushing you to the earth, be drunken continually.
Drunken with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you will. But be drunken.
And if sometimes, on the stairs of a palace, or on the green side of a ditch, or in the dreary solitude of your own room, you should awaken and the drunkenness by half or wholly slipped away from you, ask of the wind, or of the wave, or of the star, or of the bird, or of the clock, of whatever flies, or sighs, or rocks, or sings, or speaks, ask what hour it is; and the wind, wave, star, bird, clock, will answer you: “It is the hour to be drunken! Be drunken, if you would not be martyred slaves of Time; be drunken continually! With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you will.
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Post by Morgana on Oct 30, 2020 7:25:23 GMT
"A Letter To My Aunt Discussing The Correct Approach To Modern Poetry" by Dylan Thomas I love this!
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