Category: Poetry

In March . . .

OLTA

This article came to our attention first via Mitigating Chaos

In March the earth remembers its own name. Everywhere the plates of snow are cracking. The rivers begin to sing. In the sky the winter stars are sliding away; new stars appear as, later, small blades of grain will shine in the dark fields. And the name of every place is joyful.

-Mary Oliver

No snow...

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Feces withe A Face: A Virtual Poem for #clmooc #poetryport

Shit.
A promised made
to keep the poems
more physical
to find Pinksy’s history in
everything.
Meaning in the mundane
now tasked to describe virtually
I wonder
where is the
the line?
Asked since 1959
Do we taste and feel
in our online spaces?
The faces
Real?

Then I remember poop is virtual too!
What does it mean for poetry
When our feces has faces?

Source: Feces withe A Face: A Virtual Poem for

Excelsior by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow | Poetry Foundation

Excelsior

The shades of night were falling fast,
As through an Alpine village passed
A youth, who bore, ‘mid snow and ice,
A banner with the strange device,
      Excelsior!
His brow was sad; his eye beneath,
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath,
And like a silver clarion rung
The accents of that unknown tongue,
      Excelsior!
In happy homes he saw the light
Of household fires gleam warm and bright;
Above, the spectral glaciers shone,
And from his lips escaped a groan,
      Excelsior!
“Try not the Pass!” the old man said;
“Dark lowers the tempest overhead,
The roaring torrent is deep and wide!”
And loud that clarion voice replied,
      Excelsior!
“Oh stay,” the maiden said, “and rest
Thy weary head upon this breast! “
A tear stood in his bright blue eye,
But still he answered, with a sigh,
      Excelsior!
“Beware the pine-tree’s withered branch!
Beware the awful avalanche!”
This was the peasant’s last Good-night,
A voice replied, far up the height,
      Excelsior!
At break of day, as heavenward
The pious monks of Saint Bernard
Uttered the oft-repeated prayer,
A voice cried through the startled air,
      Excelsior!
A traveller, by the faithful hound,
Half-buried in the snow was found,
Still grasping in his hand of ice
That banner with the strange device,
      Excelsior!
There in the twilight cold and gray,
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay,
And from the sky, serene and far,
A voice fell like a falling star,
      Excelsior!

Source: Excelsior by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow | Poetry Foundation

El Dorado by Edgar Allan Poe – Poems | Academy of American Poets

El Dorado

Edgar Allan Poe – 1809-1849
   Gaily bedight,
   A gallant knight,
In sunshine and in shadow,
   Had journeyed long,
     Singing a song,
  In search of Eldorado.

   But he grew old,
   This knight so bold,
And o’er his heart a shadow
   Fell as he found
   No spot of ground
That looked like Eldorado.

   And, as his strength
   Failed him at length,
He met a pilgrim shadow;
   “Shadow,” said he,
   “Where can it be,
This land of Eldorado?”

   “Over the mountains
   Of the moon,
Down the valley of the shadow,
   Ride, boldly ride,”
   The shade replied,–
“If you seek for Eldorado!”

Source: El Dorado by Edgar Allan Poe – Poems | Academy of American Poets