Tag Archives: poets

A Lesson in Creativity

          One thing that Stefan Zweig does in this book (The World of Yesterday) is give the reader a profound exposition on what poets and artists meant in the world that existed before the Great War.  … Continue reading

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Book Review” The World of Yesterday

  I’m sixty-five years old. I’m educated and I have spent a good deal of my leisure reading and watching movies. After reading this book I find it hard to believe that I had never heard of Stefan Zweig until … Continue reading

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Morning Poem, April 25, 2017

This morning the quiet fills the house And lays on the floor And streams through the windows Nothing moves And I sit and watch and listen And see into this old house Its floors and walls and hallways, Once grand. … Continue reading

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What Poetry Does

‘   Show me the man who can put words together For him it’s a gift and it goes on forever The man who remembers each feeling and sight The gold and blue mornings and silken black nights . Only … Continue reading

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A Word About Words

Words not only mean something, they are something, each with a sound and rhythm all its own. Eugene Peterson, from the Introduction of Holy Luck.

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Thinking About Poetry

  I’m reading Giuseppe Mazzotta’s book Reading Dante.   I don’t understand everything in it, but I do think this book will help me get through The Divine Comedy with at least some level of understanding.  Every now and then, … Continue reading

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Morning Poem #2, November 8, 2014

TRUTH AND FACT The experts and reporters May get it right today But tomorrow brings a thousand facts That blow it all away. The poets, on the other hand May seem, at first, obscure But one must work to understand … Continue reading

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Good Night

The lamp by the walkway shines in the glossy night Making tiny diamonds on the wet leaves of the holly and the boxwood I hear raindrops fall like whispers onto the leaves and grass I shiver in the chill and … Continue reading

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Evening Poem, October 5, 2014

The Holiness of Tools The shop-room is silent and still smells of sawn wood Dust motes drift in the light beaming through the little window. The plywood table, itself built out of scraps and leftovers from the construction of the … Continue reading

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Morning Poem, August 19, 2014

In The Cool Of The Morning   In July there is more than just the heat of the day The sweaty, sticky, exhausting heat Look at those who rise early and walk in the long shade in the lingering breath … Continue reading

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