Poetry and About Poetry

Write a poem. Read a poem “Poetry is a form of literary art in which language is used for its aesthetic and evocative qualities in addition to, or in lieu of, its apparent meaning. On World Poetry Day, reflect on the power of language and the full development of your creative abilities.” — Read on www.un.org/en/observances/world-poetry-day

Write a poem. Read a poem “Poetry is a form of literary art in which language is used for its aesthetic and evocative qualities in addition to, or in lieu of, its apparent meaning. On World Poetry Day, reflect on the power of language and the full development of your creative abilities.” — Read on www.un.org/en/observances/world-poetry-day

Congratulations to all the other poets included: Prolific Press! Poetry Quarterly Winter 2018 – Our Winter Issue showcases a fine assortment of hand-selected poetry by: Duane Anderson, Ted O. Badger, Robert Baldwin, T.P. Bird, Gary Bloom, Richard G. Bouchard, Nancy Brewka-Clark, D.C. Buschmann, Len Carber, Carl Chen, Ayaz Daryl Nielsen, Ted Davis, Deborah L. Davitt, Julie A. Dickson, Milton P. Ehrlich, Regina Elliott, Martin Elster, Lynette G. Esposito, Isaac Eustice, Michael Flanagan, Kelly Foster, Keith Mark Gaboury, Ann Halvorsen, Michael Hammerle, John Hawkhead, Tim Heerdink, Juleigh Howard-Hobson, Linda Imbler, Jeanne Julian, Candice Kelsey, William Kofoed, John Leonard, Bruce Levine, Patricia Anne Lind, Catherine LoFrumento, Maryam Maleki , Salvatore Marici, Philip McDonald, Sydney McQuoid, Alan Meyrowitz, Terry Miller, Jennifer Montgomery, Glenn Moss, Suzanne Osborne, Maryalicia Post, David Pring-Mill, John Raffetto, Carolyn Riner, David Anthony Sam, Gerard Sarnat, Claire S...

My Poem “Frost Music” is included in Half Mystic Journal Issue VI: Interlude available in both hard copy and PDF here . Thank you Topaz Winters and the editorial team.

Purchase physical copies of The Magnolia Review, Volume 4, Issue 1, please click here to Purchase One, Two, Three, or Four Copies. Or send your payment to: The Magnolia Review Suzanna… — Read on themagnoliareview.com/purchase-copies/

Hope to see you there. Two other Fredericksburg poets and I will be joined by about 6 Germanna Community College student poets reading today, starting at 4pm. There will be an open mic opportunity. The Poetry Society of Virginia. 766 likes. Poetry Virginia promotes poetry throughout the state. The Poetry Society of Virginia has been active since 1923. — Read on m.facebook.com/events/258085268176048

Congratulations to all the poets included: Prolific Press! Poetry Quarterly Summer 2018 – Poetry Quarterly showcases today’s finest poets! Summer 2018 features a stunning collection of hand-selected poetry by Edward Ahern, Duane Anderson, Jody Azzouni, Dean Baltesson, Stephen Behrendt, Robert Berry, Gary W. Bloom, Sydney Bowers, Marcus Benjamin Ray Bradley, Ronnie R. Brown, Sarah Cannavo, Len Carber, Mirana Comstock, Suzanne Cottrell, James Croal Jackson, Steve Denehan, Julie A. Dickson, Richard H. Durisen, John Elliott, Anjuli Fiedler, Keith Mark Gaboury, James F. Gaines, Daniel R. Gallie, Robert Hale, Jim Hanlen, Angie Hedman, Brian Horner, William Kofoed, Dorothy Kollat, Melissa Laussmann, Bruce Levine, Paul Lojeski, C. Q. March, Laura McGinnis, Lynda McKinney Lambert, Sydney McQuoid, Alan Meyrowitz, Andrew Alexander Mobbs, Barry Peters, Rebecca Poleto, Melissa R. Robinson, Livingston Rossmoor, Hannah Rousselot, Chanacee Ruth-Killgore, Howard Sage, David Anthony Sam, Ange...

Prolific Press Has Published Final Inventory by David Anthony Sam. Prolific Press Has Published Final Inventory by David Anthony Sam via their wildly successful International Chapbook Series that is quickly taking the publishing world by storm! Many poets are aspiring to be published by Prolific Press because the press.. – PR12733032 — Read on www.prlog.org/12733032-prolific-press-has-published-final-inventory-by-david-anthony-sam.html

The Northern Region of the Poetry Society of Virginia is cohosting a poetry reading with Germanna Community College open to the public, October 25 4 to 6 p.m. I am one of the scheduled poets reading. After scheduled poets read, there will be an open mic opportunity. www.facebook.com/events/258085268176048/

Summerset Review will publish another of my poems (Moonscaped: For Buzz Aldrin) Summer 2015. http://ow.ly/MEAZw #yam #dreamsofwolves

Red Clay Sunrise: Reflections on a Year in Lead VA This Yankee come-here, Virginian by opportunity and choice, met the mountain singers and the city music-makers, met the unvoiced despair of poor hope in Richmond streets and in shacks along hillside hollers, saw the new ships building in harbors where old ships once brought crazy hoping hungry pioneers up the James River towards Jefferson’s westward vision, Declaration of rising sunsets, met the patriots who fought their own chains while forging black hands to harsh fields, met the new wayfarers in Reston and Richmond, building business from nothing and hard ideas, remet the American birthplace of Virginian legacies, and found this place of red soil and lost tobacco still ready for the passion of plows, new order in a new land where many hands can still make Good Work with our one Common Weal.

Red Clay Sunrise: Reflections on a Year in Lead VA This Yankee come-here, Virginian by opportunity and choice, met the mountain singers and the city music-makers, met the unvoiced despair of poor hope in Richmond streets and in shacks along hillside hollers, saw the new ships building in harbors where old ships once brought crazy hoping hungry pioneers up the James River towards Jefferson's westward vision, Declaration of rising sunsets, met the patriots who fought their own chains while forging black hands to harsh fields, met the new wayfarers in Reston and Richmond, building business from nothing and hard ideas, remet the American birthplace of Virginian legacies, and found this place of red soil and lost tobacco still ready for the passion of plows, new order in a new land where many hands can still make Good Work with our one Common Weal.

I’ve posted some exerpts from my poetry reading in fall of 2007 on YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EDy75A1OW-A http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yyXSQP16q50 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5VsYLxIhWl8

I've posted some exerpts from my poetry reading in fall of 2007 on YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EDy75A1OW-A http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yyXSQP16q50 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5VsYLxIhWl8

He Reconciles The Scientist And Poet Bent on quarks and omega mini, eyed by the cosmic bits that you eye on a photoplate [spy into infinity), you might deceive yourself Breaking worlds into worlds, banging clocks together in infernal time till the gears spill like guts in streaks of white, you might spy yourself peering back; or spin a beam around the rim of universe and see the back of your own head bent over a retreating horizon. Backed inside the whirling particles, you watch your watching in a gas darkly. Each time you break something, it only makes something, and the journey spills your guts like gears, and tells you stories in different words. You might receive yourself coming back another way. Published in Great River Review (1978)

We Almost Caught the Turning We had the time to motion a part of the edge to stop its wriggling. Obeying, it ceased, and the beginning was that edge. We took a quasar’s pulse and wondered if it would live. There was the question of life at all, until we discovered ourselves. Beside a nightstand, the unabridged prayerbook opened itself to an astronomical page when the six numbers parted a red season. We almost caught the turning. Then the pulse quickened, faded, and the edge reappeared, unopened again. Published in Great River Review (1978)

He Reconciles The Scientist And Poet Bent on quarks and omega mini, eyed by the cosmic bits that you eye on a photoplate [spy into infinity), you might deceive yourself Breaking worlds into worlds, banging clocks together in infernal time till the gears spill like guts in streaks of white, you might spy yourself peering back; or spin a beam around the rim of universe and see the back of your own head bent over a retreating horizon. Backed inside the whirling particles, you watch your watching in a gas darkly. Each time you break something, it only makes something, and the journey spills your guts like gears, and tells you stories in different words. You might receive yourself coming back another way. Published in Great River Review (1978)

We Almost Caught the Turning We had the time to motion a part of the edge to stop its wriggling. Obeying, it ceased, and the beginning was that edge. We took a quasar's pulse and wondered if it would live. There was the question of life at all, until we discovered ourselves. Beside a nightstand, the unabridged prayerbook opened itself to an astronomical page when the six numbers parted a red season. We almost caught the turning. Then the pulse quickened, faded, and the edge reappeared, unopened again. Published in Great River Review (1978)

Don’t Go Near The Edge Staggering butterflies blind. Dangerous skytraced motions twist the mortician eyes loose from their instaring; the world takes on fluttering. Don’t go near the edge. You might fall, freefall like your dreamself to a bedspring jingling conclusion. “Don’t go near the edge,” the voices monkey chatter from the repetitious windows in the samed in concrete structures in the same and concrete words: “Creations create… Don’t go near the edge.” But those damn staggering butterlifes, nightdeepdiving skybirds after them, sunset pinking the whole whorl with confusion. Dangerous: you might see your blood in the red mudpuddle, might find your eyes on the wingcolors of a moth. Don’t go near them. Even night’s not safe. Moths bound around streetlights. We hire yellow bulbs to keep them away. The crazy white madness tempts. Don’t go near them. They’ll edge you further into the meaningless plan. They...

Don't Go Near The Edge Staggering butterflies blind. Dangerous skytraced motions twist the mortician eyes loose from their instaring; the world takes on fluttering. Don't go near the edge. You might fall, freefall like your dreamself to a bedspring jingling conclusion. "Don't go near the edge," the voices monkey chatter from the repetitious windows in the samed in concrete structures in the same and concrete words: "Creations create... Don't go near the edge." But those damn staggering butterlifes, nightdeepdiving skybirds after them, sunset pinking the whole whorl with confusion. Dangerous: you might see your blood in the red mudpuddle, might find your eyes on the wingcolors of a moth. Don't go near them. Even night's not safe. Moths bound around streetlights. We hire yellow bulbs to keep them away. The crazy white madness tempts. Don't go near them. They'll edge you further into the meaningless plan. They'll edge you into yourse...