Poetry and About Poetry

Until the End of Time: Mind, Matter, and Our Search for Meaning in an Evolving Universe by Brian Greene My rating: 5 of 5 stars View all my reviews

“We die. That may be the meaning of life. But we do language. That may be the measure of our living.” Toni Morrison

“We die. That may be the meaning of life. But we do language. That may be the measure of our living.” Toni Morrison

"We die. That may be the meaning of life. But we do language. That may be the measure of our living." Toni Morrison

In the Dark, Soft Earth  by  Frank Watson My rating:  2 of 5 stars In this collection, Frank Watson seeks inspiration from works of art and music, from nature, and from human relationship. The results are often interesting, as in the section inspired by paintings derived from a Tarot deck. His language and imagery are both spare and simple. His metaphors sometimes strain, seemingly trying to resurrect a comparison from overuse. His lines are short and pithy and he makes good use of regular and irregular rhyme. Overall, the poetry is less complex and rich than the art works printed alongside and the language sometimes edges towards the stale traditional. But there is an earnestness here, and the poems are accessible to those who do not regularly read poetry. View all my reviews

In the Dark, Soft Earth  by  Frank Watson My rating:  2 of 5 stars In this collection, Frank Watson seeks inspiration from works of art and music, from nature, and from human relationship. The results are often interesting, as in the section inspired by paintings derived from a Tarot deck. His language and imagery are both spare and simple. His metaphors sometimes strain, seemingly trying to resurrect a comparison from overuse. His lines are short and pithy and he makes good use of regular and irregular rhyme. Overall, the poetry is less complex and rich than the art works printed alongside and the language sometimes edges towards the stale traditional. But there is an earnestness here, and the poems are accessible to those who do not regularly read poetry. View all my reviews

In the Dark, Soft Earth by Frank Watson My rating: 2 of 5 stars In this collection, Frank Watson seeks inspiration from works of art and music, from nature, and from human relationship. The results are often interesting, as in the section inspired by paintings derived from a Tarot deck. His language and imagery are both spare and simple. His metaphors sometimes strain, seemingly trying to resurrect a comparison from overuse. His lines are short and pithy and he makes good use of regular and irregular rhyme. Overall, the poetry is less complex and rich than the art works printed alongside and the language sometimes edges towards the stale traditional. But there is an earnestness here, and the poems are accessible to those who do not regularly read poetry. View all my reviews

Pale Rider: The Spanish Flu of 1918 and How It Changed the World by Laura Spinney My rating: 4 of 5 stars View all my reviews

Meat for Tea – The Valley Review  will publish three of my poems in an upcoming issue. They have previously published my work. Thank you Editor Elizabeth MacDuffie. 

Meat for Tea – The Valley Review  will publish three of my poems in an upcoming issue. They have previously published my work. Thank you Editor Elizabeth MacDuffie. 

Meat for Tea - The Valley Review  will publish three of my poems in an upcoming issue. They have previously published my work. Thank you Editor Elizabeth MacDuffie. 

The Secret History of Wonder Woman by Jill Lepore My rating: 4 of 5 stars View all my reviews

The More Extravagant Feast: Poems  by  Leah Naomi Green My rating:  4 of 5 stars With eloquent simplicity and an eye for the telling detail, Leah Naomi Green writes poetry that encompasses nature and the very personal into a lyric tapestry. The growth of her daughters in her body and then–after they are born–outside that body. “This is the way we came to remember the world.” The likening of a wood stove being opened on the first cold day of Autumn and finding they had prepared wood to burn with the opening of her body in a C-section to the separate life of her daughter. “i believed at least one of us must know the way” The father who kills and dresses a deer for them to eat as a sacramental act. “It is all I see, a thing, alive, slowdown becoming my body.” “When we eat, what we eat is the body of the world” The death of her father and faith in life as a candle of flickering light embodied in wax “whose job is not to spark, or hold a flame, but to keep the lit wick ste

The More Extravagant Feast: Poems  by  Leah Naomi Green My rating:  4 of 5 stars With eloquent simplicity and an eye for the telling detail, Leah Naomi Green writes poetry that encompasses nature and the very personal into a lyric tapestry. The growth of her daughters in her body and then–after they are born–outside that body. “This is the way we came to remember the world.” The likening of a wood stove being opened on the first cold day of Autumn and finding they had prepared wood to burn with the opening of her body in a C-section to the separate life of her daughter. “i believed at least one of us must know the way” The father who kills and dresses a deer for them to eat as a sacramental act. “It is all I see, a thing, alive, slowdown becoming my body.” “When we eat, what we eat is the body of the world” The death of her father and faith in life as a candle of flickering light embodied in wax “whose job is not to spark, or hold a flame, but to keep the lit wick steady, constant and

The More Extravagant Feast: Poems by Leah Naomi Green My rating: 4 of 5 stars With eloquent simplicity and an eye for the telling detail, Leah Naomi Green writes poetry that encompasses nature and the very personal into a lyric tapestry. The growth of her daughters in her body and then--after they are born--outside that body. "This is the way we came to remember the world." The likening of a wood stove being opened on the first cold day of Autumn and finding they had prepared wood to burn with the opening of her body in a C-section to the separate life of her daughter. "i believed at least one of us must know the way" The father who kills and dresses a deer for them to eat as a sacramental act. "It is all I see, a thing, alive, slowdown becoming my body." "When we eat, what we eat is the body of the world" The death of her father and faith in life as a candle of flickering light embodied in wax "who

My poem “Kharon” will be included in a collection on the COVID pandemic call “Tales from Six Feet Apart” to be published by  iō Literary Journal  later this year.  My thanks to the editors who have previously published 3 of my poems. 

My poem “Kharon” will be included in a collection on the COVID pandemic call “Tales from Six Feet Apart” to be published by  iō Literary Journal  later this year.  My thanks to the editors who have previously published 3 of my poems. 

My poem "Kharon" will be included in a collection on the COVID pandemic call "Tales from Six Feet Apart" to be published by  iō Literary Journal  later this year.  My thanks to the editors who have previously published 3 of my poems. 

Let America Be America Again BY  LANGSTON HUGHES Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is free. (America never was America to me.) Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed— Let it be that great strong land of love Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme That any man be crushed by one above. (It never was America to me.) O, let my land be a land where Liberty Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath, But opportunity is real, and life is free, Equality is in the air we breathe. (There’s never been equality for me, Nor freedom in this “homeland of the free.”) Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark? And who are you that draws your veil across the stars? I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart, I am the Negro bearing slavery’s scars. I am the red man driven from the land, I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek— And finding only the same old stu

Let America Be America Again BY  LANGSTON HUGHES Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is free. (America never was America to me.) Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed— Let it be that great strong land of love Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme That any man be crushed by one above. (It never was America to me.) O, let my land be a land where Liberty Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath, But opportunity is real, and life is free, Equality is in the air we breathe. (There’s never been equality for me, Nor freedom in this “homeland of the free.”) Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark? And who are you that draws your veil across the stars? I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart, I am the Negro bearing slavery’s scars. I am the red man driven from the land, I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek— And finding only the same old stupid plan Of dog eat dog, of mi

Let America Be America Again BY  LANGSTON HUGHES Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is free. (America never was America to me.) Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed— Let it be that great strong land of love Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme That any man be crushed by one above. (It never was America to me.) O, let my land be a land where Liberty Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath, But opportunity is real, and life is free, Equality is in the air we breathe. (There's never been equality for me, Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.") Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark? And who are you that draws your veil across the stars? I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart, I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars. I am the red man driven from the land, I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek— And finding only the same old stupid plan Of

This is not something you hug and then step all over. This is not just Article II. This is not just the Second Amendment This is not a prop to wave in front of church you never visit. This IS a man.

It’s the action, not the fruit of the action, that’s important. You have to do the right thing. It may not be in your power, may not be in your time, that there will be any fruit. But that doesn’t mean you stop doing the right thing. You may never know what results come from your action. But if you do nothing, there will be no result. ~  Mahatma Gandhi

It’s the action, not the fruit of the action, that’s important. You have to do the right thing. It may not be in your power, may not be in your time, that there will be any fruit. But that doesn’t mean you stop doing the right thing. You may never know what results come from your action. But if you do nothing, there will be no result. ~  Mahatma Gandhi

It's the action, not the fruit of the action, that's important. You have to do the right thing. It may not be in your power, may not be in your time, that there will be any fruit. But that doesn't mean you stop doing the right thing. You may never know what results come from your action. But if you do nothing, there will be no result. ~  Mahatma Gandhi