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Beauty is the sole legitimate province of the poem.-Edgar Allan Poe

Poetry is when emotion has found its thought and thought has found words--Robert Frost

Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance--Carl Sandburg

I have nothing to say, I am saying it, and that is poetry--John Cage

You will find poetry nowhere unless you bring some of it with you--Joseph Joubert

Poetry is what in a poem makes you laugh, cry, prickle, be silent, makes your toe nails twinkle, makes you want to do this or that or nothing, makes you know that you are alone in the unknown world, that your bliss and suffering is forever shared and forever all your own. ~Dylan Thomas

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A Hot Sun and a Cold Poem-of-the-Week


Kellie, Luna, and I go for a walk/hike every morning. We usually are out and about between 5:30 and 6:15 AM. One morning this week, we got around a little later, maybe 6:30, and the temperature was already hot. In fact, I do not have to tell you how it was. You can look at the picture posted above and see the heat. Even the sun says, "Yeah, I'll show you."


Well, to break some of the heat, I decided that I would write the week's Poem-a-Week about something cold. I hope it helps you cool down. ENJOY!


Awake on the First Frost of Fall

 

I saw the morning pitch its vicious stars.

It cast them as a clinging shroud of frost

That brought with it the vehemence of Mars

And clipped the life from all where it was tossed.

 

I watched the mantle of white death that passed

Like mist woven into a veil of sleep.

I saw the aster petals nod their last,

The blossoms shriveled up like frozen sheep.

 

The sun arrived with warmth his willing slave,

But all his worshippers lay dead and bare.

None opened flowers to the light he gave

And so, he ambled on. He did not care.


Don't forget to purchase your copy of Essential Words at Lulu.com or by emailing me mbt1966@yahoo.com. Copies are still available.


Also, I am still editing my proof copy of Uncle Boog and the Dogfight and Other Dewey Lynn Stories, but it should be ready to go in the next month or so. Be prepared.



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I find that I cannot exist without Poetry--without eternal poetry--half the day will not do--the whole of it--I began with a little, but habit has made me a Leviathan.-John Keats

We do not quite say that the new is more valuable because it fits in; but its fitting in is a test of its value.-T. S. Eliot

A man may praise and praise, but no one recollects but that which pleases.-George Gordon, Lord Byron

The great beauty of poetry is that it makes everything in every place interesting.-John Keats

Our faulty elder poets sacrificed the passion and passionate flow of poetry to the subtleties of intellect and to the stars of wit; the moderns to the glare and glitter of a perpetual, yet broken and heterogeneous imagery, or rather to an amphibious something, made up, half of image, and half of abstract meaning. The one sacrificed the heart to the head; the other both heart and head to point and drapery.-S. T. Coleridge

The purpose of rhythm, it has always seemed to me, is to prolong the moment of contemplation, the moment when we are both asleep and awake, which is the one moment of creation.-W. B. Yeats

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