September 12, 2014
The Fall of the Onomatopoeian Empire

The Fall of the Onomatopoeian Empire

September 12, 2014
Cloud Poem

The day came and went without poetry.

The pencil wrote “365 reasons to live”

on paper, but they never made it

to the computer. They weren’t uploaded

to a cloud of poems drifting by.

Cloud computing

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Filed under: Poetry writing 
September 9, 2014
"Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance."

—     Carl Sandburg

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Filed under: carl sandburg poetry 
September 7, 2014
The Summer Ends by Wendell Berry | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

The Summer Ends
by Wendell Berry

The summer ends, and it is time
To face another way. Our theme
Reversed, we harvest the last row
To store against the cold, undo
The garden that will be undone.
We grieve under the weakened sun
To see all earth’s green fountains dried…

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Filed under: Wendell Berry poetry 
September 2, 2014
Nine Months

8 months of poems; 4 to go. That’s a lot of ronkas.

pen writingI have been writing my daily poems on this site for 8 months. I am into the ninth month with four months left in this yearlong practice.

This site doesn’t get big numbers of visitors. I write several other blogs and one, Serendipty35 about technology and learning, regularly gets 2-4 million “hits” per month. My Weekends in Paradellesite has far less activity, but I’m happy that those longer…

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August 31, 2014

August

by John Updike

The sprinkler twirls.
The summer wanes.
The pavement wears
Popsicle stains.

The playground grass
Is worn to dust.
The weary swings
Creak, creak with rust.

The trees are bored
With being green.
Some people leave
The local scene

And go to seaside
Bungalows
And take off nearly
All their clothes.

"August" by John Updike, from A Child’s Calendar

August 30, 2014
One Whose Name Was Writ in Water

One Whose Name Was Writ in Water

I almost wish that we were butterflies

and liv’d but three summer days – then,

fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget.

Touch has a memory. A waking dream?

I want a brighter word than bright.

There is nothing stable in the world.

[a found poem consisting of quotes from the poems of John Keats, Bright Star: Love Letters and Poems of John Keats to Fanny Brawne and John Keats: A New Life]

John…

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August 30, 2014
Walking With Keats

393px-John_Keats_by_William_Hilton

John Keats by William Hilton – Public Domain

In the summer of 1818,  poet John Keats went on a six-week walking tour through northern England, Scotland, and Ireland. Keats and his friend Charles Brown set off in June and walked 600 miles before sailing back to London.

Keats was not an outdoorsman and had spent his life in London never having been out of southern England. He was 22 and had never…

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August 28, 2014
The Floating Bridge of Dreams

The Floating Bridge of Dreams

445px-Lady_Murasaki_writing

Murasaki writing at her desk at inspired by the Moon

Reading Lady Murasaki Shikibu’s The Tale of Genji -

1000 years old with its 400 tanka.

Like the western sonnet, the tanka turns,

from the pivotal image to personal response.

The past floats up to the present.

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August 21, 2014
"I like poems where you don’t really know whether to laugh or cry when you read them."

—   X.J. Kennedy

August 20, 2014
"It is difficult to get the news from poems, yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there."

—    William Carlos Williams

(Source: feellng, via iamcharliesangel)

August 7, 2014
Fresh Cut

Poetry repairs. Lines cracked with the strain

of too much meaning, brittle with age.

New words, brightly-colored ideas, cutting away decay,

fresh-cut stanzas smelling of the pine air

over my head. A sky full of stars.

pine sky

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August 1, 2014
Waves That Rhyme

Weekends in Paradelle: Waves That Rhyme

I can stare at waves for a long time without being bored.

Surfers study waves – not like scientists – but they study them for sure. I don’t study them. I let them hypnotize me. Or maybe it’s a form of meditation.

Years ago, when I went for a weekend sesshinat a Zen monastery, my wife asked what it was that I was supposed to learn…

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Filed under: ocean poetry rhythm waves 
July 18, 2014
When you read my poem

When you read my poem

you thought that the I was me,

that you was you, we was us,

then was now, the home was ours.

If you assume that the poem’s future

is our present, there is no future.

it_photo_107815

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July 12, 2014
"Tonight I can write the saddest lines
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too."

Pablo Neruda



The Essential Neruda: Selected Poems

Today is the birthday of this Chilean poet, born July 12, 1904 as Neftali Ricardo Reyes Basoalto. He chose his pen name after the Czech poet Jan Neruda. In 1971, Neruda won the Nobel Prize for Literature.

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Filed under: pablo neruda Poetry 
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