You never know what words of wisdom are going to carry with you over the years. I was about 14, and was just starting to show my efforts at writing and drawing/painting. It was terrible stuff really. I really didn't know anything about poetry at the time. That's not meant to imply that I know anything about poetry today, either. Back then I was reading a lot of Lovecraft, Blake, and a little bit of Whitman and Poe. Pretty much I was just trying to write rock songs and my big idea of clever was to filter it through generic macabre imagery. You know... Jim Morrison. Except I can't sing; so I started calling it poetry. You know...Jim Morrison. Anyways, I was showing all this "art" to my old man, when he tells me, "Why don't you paint me a sunset? Write to me about a dog finally coming up on some good luck? Give me something I can find identity in, something I can understand. Tell me about living a real life." At first I was all about my teenager hurt feelings. But the seed was planted, the ember smoldering, if you will. I was 16 when me and the pen got together again. This time I was trying to write about what I knew. Turns out, at 16 I didn't know much at all. Now, here I am, 40 years old and I'm repeating my father's words; trying to tell you what this is all about. I write about what I know. I write about the last 40 years of life I've seen. See, the thing is, it don't matter what I meant when I was writing it. Really, it comes down to just one question. What does it mean to you?
... Or if the secret ministry of frost Shall hang them up in silent icicles, ... A Noiseless Patient Spider A noiseless patient spider, I mark'd where on a ...
An anthology of some of the best English poems.
Combining journal entries, poetry and formal e-mails, these books celebrate the sights, sounds, flavors, (and the physical and mental strain), of crossing mountains, rolling landscapes, and unchanged rural villages, as well as vibrant ...
There are no Formal E-mails, no Definitions, no Autobiography or Research here. And because of all that it is not, this book completes those first two in the pilgrimage series in a gentle way.
Karen Freeman! Was born August 22, 1950 in Newark New Jersey. She had a “BRIGHT” daughter named Kira. She Married Warren W. C. Freeman March 1, 1998. They were married for 13 years and 20 days. She “PASSED-ON” March 21, 2011.
Winner of the Massachusetts Book Award "A terrific and sometimes terrifying collection—morally complex, rhythmic, tough-minded, and original." —Rosanna Warren, 2018 Barnard Women Poets Prize citation In a poetic voice at once accessible ...
O. D. Macrae Gibson points out that the function of pyȝt as a concatenating word stresses its capacity to mean both arrayed and set.8 Gordon glosses the word as varying in sense throughout the poem between “set,” “fixed,” and “adorned” ...
This riveting poetry collection is a fresh and witty account of thoughts and experiences that everyday people have in their day-to-day lives.
SELL. IT. SOMEWHERE. ELSE. Well, you can take your good looks somewhere else Cuz they're not for sale 'round here... I've heard about you and the things you do And I don't need you anywhere near. Yeah, I've met your kind a time or two ...
I was indeed fortunate in being able to recruit a pair of talented , conscientious , and unfailingly cheerful draftsmen in the persons of Julie Baker and Kathi Donahue ( now Sherwood ) to collaborate with my wife , Sally , in producing ...