Tag Archives: Poem

WELCOME TO THE #RRBC 2019 OCTOBER-WEEN BLOCK PARTY Winners

 

Hello and Welcome to the #RRBC 2019 October-ween Block Party. At each stop on the tour, there will be Daily Giveaway Prizes. At the end of the entire tour, there will be Grand Prize Winners!

Here are the prizes at this stop:

1) A $10 Amazon gift card and a copy of my eBook Songs of Heartstrings

Winner: Beem Week  https://beemweeks.wordpress.com

2) A $10 Amazon gift card and a copy of my eBook Songs of Heartstrings

Winner: James J. Cudney IV https://thisismytruthnow.com

3) A $10 Amazon gift card and a copy of my eBook Songs of Heartstrings

Winner: John W. Howell https://johnwhowell.com

There are 3 gifts for 3 Winners!

All you have to do to enter is leaving a comment below.

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Here is the topic of the post today

Why do people write poetry?

The earliest poetry is believed to have been recited or sung, used as a way of remembering oral history, genealogy, and law. Aristotle’s Poetics identified three major genres:

1) The epic poetry is the oldest poetry which is a lengthy narrative poem involving a time beyond living memory of the extraordinary doings of the extraordinary men and women. It described their dealings with the gods or other superhuman forces and gave shape to the moral universe for their descendants.

2) Lyric poetry is a formal poetry which expresses personal emotions or feelings, typically spoken in the first person. The term derives from Ancient Greek literature; the lyric was a musical accompaniment, usually on a stringed instrument known as a lyre.

3) Dramatic poetry or Verse drama is any drama written as verse to be spoken; another possible general term is the poetic drama. For a very long period, the verse drama was the dominant form of drama in Europe. Greek tragedy and Racine’s plays are written in verse, as is almost all of Shakespeare’s drama.

During the 20th-century and 21st-century there are disputes among the traditional forms and structures for poetry and the distinction between poetry and prose. The elements of traditional poetry include prosody, rhythm, meter, metrical patterns and rhyme. The forms of poetry comprise lines, patterns and rhyme. Prose is a natural flow of speech. However, as T. S. Eliot noted, whereas “the distinction between verse and prose is clear, the distinction between poetry and prose is obscure.” Free verse is an open form of poetry. It does not use consistent patterns, rhyme, or any musical pattern. It follows the rhythm of natural speech. Most free verse maintains the poetic convention of the poetic lines. T. S. Eliot wrote, “No verse is free for the man who wants to do a good job.”

My favorite lyrics are from hymns and songs. This is one of the songs with the lyrics based on Psalm 8.

 

 

Most of the poems in my poetry collection are in free verse. I also write in various poem forms. Here are some examples of poem forms included in the book.

 

Light and Dark

 

The end of the tunnel was in sight

Travel on a long journey found not in vain

Energizing my weary body moved toward the light

 

The road taken was not one I had chosen

Unexpected trails and body half frozen

The end of the tunnel was in sight

 

Trotting in darkness with heavy feet

Hope, my only strength to pick up the beat

Energizing my weary body moved toward the light

 

Long hall of darkness with pain in veins

Comforting in the heart stopped me from fainting

The end of the tunnel was in sight

 

Throbbing pain head to toes subsided

Medication and nutrition worked two-sided

Energizing my weary body moved toward the light

 

Six months of cancer treatment had completed

Only follow-up appointments needed repetition

The end of the tunnel was in sight

Energizing my weary body moved toward the light

 

The highly structured Villanelle is a 19-line poem with two repeating rhymes and two refrains. The form is made up of five tercets followed by a quatrain. The first and third lines of the opening tercet are repeated alternately in the last lines of the succeeding stanzas; then in the final stanza, the refrain serves as the poem’s two concluding lines.  

 

WONDER

 

Whispering into my ear

Of passionate words to hear

Needing me in your life

Day after day, night after night

Embracing me against your chest

Reassuring me for worst or best

 

An acrostic poem is a type of poetry where the first, last or other letters in a line spell out a word or phrase. The most common and simple form of an acrostic poem is where the first letters of each line spell out the word or phrase.

 

I appreciate your visit and comment!

 

 

 

 

Colleen’s Poetry Challenge: Photo Prompt – The Messenger

It’s the middle of the month challenge ~ time for a photo prompt! Colleen wants us to use this photo as the inspiration for the poem.

 

 

The Messenger

A

bottle

half buried

in smooth white sand.

Reminder of kisses,

warm braces and loving gazes,

our future we celebrated.

Through cruelty we were separated.

Holding tears this bottle I picked up.

“I’m alive, call this number, my love.”

 

 

 

Colleen’s Poetry Challenge: Photo Prompt – The Messenger

 

 

 

Colleen’s Poetry Challenge No. 136 Photo Prompt – Sweet Memories

Colleen’s Weekly Tanka Tuesday Poetry Challenge has a new feature. For the middle of the month challenge it’s a photo prompt!

 

Sweet Memories

 

For sentimental reason, I still keep many pieces of projects my daughter made. I have a flower pot she decorated when she was in 5th grade. It is sitting on a round glass top table between two chairs in the front patio. I like to sit in the front porch to drink coffee in the morning. The flower pot reminds me of the things we did together when she was growing up.

Kids are grown and gone

Keeping the bikes where they were

Jolly wheels still turned

Muddy feet through door they came

Hungry mouths screamed for cookies

 

 

 

Colleen’s Tuesday Poetry Challenge #136 Photo Challenge – Memory

 

 

To a Daughter Leaving Home by Linda Pastan – re-post

linda-pastan

On May 27, 1932, Linda Pastan was born to a Jewish family in the Bronx. She graduated from Radcliffe College and received an MA from Brandeis University.

Among her publications are – Carnival Evening: New and Selected Poems 1968-1998 (W. W. Norton, 1998), which was nominated for the National Book Award; The Imperfect Paradise (W. W. Norton, 1988), a nominee for the Los Angeles Times Book Prize.

Linda Pastan lives in Potomac, Maryland.

I feature two of her poems. The first one makes me laugh and think. When I first read the title, I thought she was writing about her daughter going to college, or at a wedding. When I read on to the last line, I could feel her heart. Yes, our children leave us in different stages and different circumstances.

I found myself letting Mercy go little by little as she was growing up. Letting her go in a way of respect her to become independent but still stay close by to be her support. When Mercy was in fifth grade, she configured my first cell phone. When she was a young adult, she became my friend as remains to be my daughter. At the present, I rely on her expertise and am not afraid to ask.

~

To A Daughter Leaving Home by Linda Pastan

When I taught you
at eight to ride
a bicycle, loping along
beside you
as you wobbled away
on two round wheels,
my own mouth rounding
in surprise when you pulled
ahead down the curved
path of the park,
I kept waiting
for the thud
of your crash as I
sprinted to catch up,
while you grew
smaller, more breakable
with distance,
pumping, pumping
for your life, screaming
with laughter,
the hair flapping
behind you like a
handkerchief waving
goodbye.

The second poem evokes my reflection on the question: when am I most myself? I think it is ever since I had cancer. I reflect on life vs. death, health vs. sickness, essential vs. contemporary, personal right vs. relationship. I accept who I am and no interest in pretending. I’m satisfied with what I have and no ambition to acquire “one more.”

~

Something About the Trees by Linda Pastan

I remember what my father told me:
There is an age when you are most yourself.
He was just past fifty then,
Was it something about the trees that make him speak?

There is an age when you are most yourself.
I know more than I did once.
Was it something about the trees that make him speak?
Only a single leaf had turned so far.

I know more than I did once.
I used to think he’d always be the surgeon.
Only a single leaf had turned so far,
Even his body kept its secrets.

I used to think he’d always be the surgeon,
My mother was the perfect surgeon’s wife.
Even his body kept its secrets.
I thought they both would live forever.

My mother was the perfect surgeon’s wife,
I can still see her face at thirty.
I thought they both would live forever.
I thought I’d always be their child.

I can still see her face at thirty.
When will I be most myself?
I thought I’d always be their child.
In my sleep, it’s never winter.

When will I be most myself?
I remember what my father told me.
In my sleep, it’s never winter.
He was just past fifty then.

~

This is an expansion of Pantoum Poem Form from 4 stanzas to 7 stanzas.

Stanza 1: 1, 2, 3, 4
Stanza 2: 2, 5, 4, 6
Stanza 3: 5, 7, 6, 8
Stanza 4: 7, 9, 8, 10
Stanza 5: 9, 11, 10, 12
Stanza 6: 11, 13, 12, 14
Stanza 7: 13, 1, 14, 3

 

 

Visit the Beach – A Poem

IMG_3424 (2)

Visit the Beach

It is therapeutic to visit the beach

Toes in the sand, Ears to the waves

Eyes gaze at the horizon

Breathe in the fresh sea air

~

Power of salty air heals the lungs

Clears out the unwanted junks

Improves the respiratory system

Helps absorb oxygen, balance serotonin

~

I so enjoy walking on the beach

It’s therapeutic to mind and soul

Chores left at home far behind

Enjoy the presence of tide low or high

~

Smorgasbord Posts from Your Archives – #PotLuck – #Poetry Beautiful Tiny Baby by Miriam Hurdle

Thank you Sally for sharing my archives on your blog – Sally Cronin found this poem about my beautiful tiny baby. Please head over to visit her magazine full of interesting topics.

 

 

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine

Welcome to the series of Posts from Your Archives, where bloggers put their trust in me. In this series, I dive into a blogger’s archives and select four posts to share here to my audience.

If you would like to know how it works here is the original post:https://smorgasbordinvitation.wordpress.com/2019/04/28/smorgasbord-posts-from-your-archives-newseries-pot-luck-and-do-you-trust-me/

Today we continue with the series of posts from the archives of poet Miriam Hurdle, who is a regular contributor to the blog. This time I am selecting the posts and the next one I would like to share with you is a poem that is clearly very close to Miriam’s heart.

Beautiful Tiny Baby written by Miriam Hurdle at Spillwords.com

Beautiful Tiny Baby by Miriam Hurdle

Seven months of being pregnant,
driving from California to Oregon
for a Christmas family gathering.
“Take breaks more often,” Doctor said.

Still, it was 1,000 miles in distance.
When we arrived, I started the contractions,
went to the hospital in…

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Authors’ Day/Book Signing, March 7, 2019

The Publish Before You Perish class at California State University at Fullerton, California organizes the next Authors’ Day/Book Signing on March 7, 2019 at 11:00 a.m. You’re invited to join us if you’re in the local area.

Welcome to the World of Fritz von Coelln

Miriam Hurdle is participating in our book signing at the OLLI Authors’ Day, March 7th  from 11:00 AM to 1:30  PM.  Location: California State University, Fullerton, Pollak Library.  For more information click HERE.

Human being has the will power to travel through an exhausting journey, win a tough battle, and heal a deep wound. Strength from hope keeps us going until the light at the end of the tunnel is in sight and striving until the storm is over. 

Songs of Heartstrings: Poems of Gratitude and Beatitude,

This poetic memoir comprises  themes from the suffering through an undesirable relationship, surviving an aggressive cancer, to the happiness in true love, the joy of parenthood, and gratitude toward the Maker. Hurdle reveals the honest self-talk and reflects a heart filled with optimism, faith and trust. She illustrates the poems with her beautiful photos and paintings.

From inside the flap: When we read poetry…

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