In Honour of My Friend Who Is In Stage Four – One of Her Favourite Poets

Fear Fear of seeing a police car pull into the drive. Fear of falling asleep at night. Fear of not falling asleep. Fear of the past rising up. Fear of the present taking flight. Fear of the telephone that rings in the dead of night. Fear of electrical storms. Fear of the cleaning woman who has a spot on her cheek! Fear of dogs I’ve been told won’t bite. Fear of anxiety! Fear of having to identify the body of a dead friend. Fear of running out of money. Fear of having too much, though people will not believe this….

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Still I Rise by Dr. Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise.   Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? ‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells Pumping in my living room.   Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I’ll rise.   Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries?   Does my haughtiness offend you?…

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Celebrating the Poetry of Mary Oliver

IF  I  WERE There are lots of ways to dance and to spin, sometimes it just starts my feet first then my entire body, I am spinning no one can see it but it is happening. I am so glad to be alive, I am so glad to be loving and loved. Even if I were close to the finish, even if I were at my final breath, I would be here to take a stand, bereft of such astonishments, but for them. If I were a Sufi for sure I would be one of the spinning kind. Mary Oliver….

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“Dreamwood” by Adrienne Rich

  In the old, scratched, cheap wood of the typing stand there is a landscape, veined, which only a child can see or the child’s older self, a poet, a woman dreaming when she should be typing the last report of the day. If this were a map, she thinks, a map laid down to memorize because she might be walking it, it shows ridge upon ridge fading into hazed desert here and there a sign of aquifers and one possible watering-hole. If this were a map it would be the map of the last age of her life, not…

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Meet Carol Argyris, A Scottish Author and Poet

What are you working on? I’ve written an eighty thousand word children’s novel pitched for nine to twelve-year olds about a furry four-armed alien called Yub who, a teenager on his own planet, has a special ability that allows him to travel through space. His planet is dying and all its inhabitants live underground in biospheres built after the Cataclysms (a war) that caused the destruction of the protective atmospheric shield around the planet. Looking for a planet like his own was before the violent changes. Yub arrives in the North of Scotland and contacts a teenage boy, Josh, who…

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One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVIII – Pablo Naruda

                I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz, or arrow of carnations that propagate fire: I love you as one loves certain obscure things, secretly, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself, and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose from the earth lives dimly in my body. I love you directly without problems or pride: I love you like this because I don’t know any other…

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Adverb-Mongering

Like a kid stuck in a guilty stammer I just failed a test in grammar Adverbs and verbs did not agree They quibbled, declaring Themselves more worthy! Why do I bother? I thought in a huff Allow them to mingle Play the role of Hot Stuff!   Terry Gibson, 2014.          

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Letters to Milena – Franz Kafka

   “In a way, you are poetry material; You are full of cloudy subtleties I am willing to spend a lifetime figuring out. Words burst in your essence and you carry their dust in the pores of your ethereal individuality.”   Letters to Milena, Franz Kafka.           Related articles A Love Letter from Kafka Extract From Kafka’s “Letters to Milena” Franz Kafka: 10 quotes for his birthday

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The Invitation – Written By Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing. It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive. It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear…

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In Beauty May I Walk

In beauty may I walk; All day long may I walk; Through the returning seasons may I walk. Beautifully will I possess again Beautifully birds Beautifully butterflies… On the trail marked with pollen may I walk; With grasshoppers about my feet may I walk; With dew around my feet may I walk. With beauty before me may I walk With beauty behind me may I walk With beauty above me may I walk With beauty all around me, may I walk. In old age, wandering on a trail of beauty, lively; In old age, wandering on a trail of beauty,…

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