earth day

zuc

give me your tired seeds

sunshine, water, and air, they need…

verdant food they’ll breed!

mansions

WendyJorgensen

by Wendy Jorgensen

 

 stream pours down licking silt

rich deposits seeking life

mansions of the earth

azure elixir

byErinJay

by Erin Jay

 

azure reflections

in the eyes portend magic’s

elixir of soul.

 

letterhead

John Stevens bouquet

  abcdarian                                                                                 by John Stevens

alphabet sentence

 

blossoms

 

letterhead

flourishes

JohnStevensItalic

Italic calligraphy by John Stephens with ligatures and flourishes

 

There is another alphabet whispering from every leaf,

singing from every river,

shimmering from every sky.

Definition #184 Ars Poetica

this is life in Maine

jeannepoland's avatarThe Vibrant Channeled Creator

An Ars Poetica poem

talks about the art of writing poetry,

presents the poet’s views on what a poem is

and how it should be written.

Tea in Maine

A poem is sound:       Ruth Grierson plays  violin.

A poem is memory:      Scottish jigs & ballads;

A poem is taste:            all kinds of music but rap!!!!!!

A poem is smell:            while we sip English Tea

A poem is a stage:        at the library;

A poem is a story:         hear about:

the ceremonial burning

                                        of old buildings that need replacement
the Fire of 1947;

                                      that stopped when the fireball hit the sea!
the flames brought forth

                                              the aspen, birch and new seeds that burst in the heat!

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cello

Hauser - Hallelujah

Youtube Link:

There’s Something About A Cello

Cellos are resonant. It feels to me as if the bow were playing
right across my heart rather than the strings. Talk about a cello in
your poem, or if you don’t love the sound of a cello, let your poem
speak about delight in another instrument.
Peeling a Potato
Pablo Casals should see me now,
bowing this fat little cello,
peeling off long white chords.
I am not famous like Pablo,
not yet. The amphitheater
of the kitchen sink is nearly empty.
As the notes reel out,
I hear only the hesitant clapping
of a few moist hands.
I am playing the solo variations
of J.S. Bach. Wonderfully,
I sweep with my peeler. See me lean
into the work, tight lipped,
the light in my hair. Inspiration
trickles over my handsome old hands.
Ted Kooser
in Weather Central
On Bach’s Cello Suite No. 2 in D Minor
Prelude

 

daffodils

daffodills

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
by William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
 
“I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud” by William Wordsworth. Public domain.

 

It was on this day in 1802 that William Wordsworth (books by this author) was walking home with his sister, Dorothy, and saw a patch of daffodils that became the inspiration for one of his most famous poems.
They were returning from a visit to their friends Thomas and Catherine Clarkson, who lived on the shore of Ullswater, the second largest lake in England’s lake district, a beautiful deep lake, nine miles long, surrounded by mountains.
Dorothy wrote in her journal: “When we were in the woods beyond Gowbarrow park we saw a few daffodils close to the water side. We fancied that the lake had floated the seeds ashore and that the little colony had so sprung up. But as we went along there were more and yet more and at last under the boughs of the trees, we saw that there was a long belt of them along the shore, about the breadth of a country turnpike road. I never saw daffodils so beautiful they grew among the mossy stones about and about them, some rested their heads upon these stones as on a pillow for weariness and the rest tossed and reeled and danced and seemed as if they verily laughed with the wind that blew upon them over the lake, they looked so gay ever glancing ever changing.”
William was impressed by the daffodils too, but William didn’t write anything about them for at least two years, maybe more. No one is sure when he wrote the poem “I wander’d lonely as a cloud,” but it was published in 1807. Not only did Wordsworth probably reference Dorothy’s journal for inspiration, but his wife Mary came up with two lines: “They flash upon that inward eye / Which is the bliss of solitude.” William said they were the best lines in the poem.

gratitude for the media

Untitled

Tina Rosenburg
The key, she says, is to cover the work that is being done, not simply celebrate it. She contributes to a New York Times column called “Fixes,” in which she explores solutions to major social crises like health care and poverty.
She says: “We know that a steady diet of news about violence and corruption and incompetence does create in people: depression, apathy, learned helplessness, stress, all kinds of things. And it’s really bad for the news business. We are selling a product that people find painful to consume. I think anyone would tell you that that’s not a good business model.”

Please see: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Suf6BpY418

call of our leaders:

us-flag-21-apr-2017

CuomoMyssCoronaVirus

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