About the site: This blog started as a place to house poems, favorites and original poems. Towards the end of ModPo 1, I added a blogroll of blogs showcasing poetic works by ModPo students and friends. Now, at the end of ModPo 2, we continue this tradition. We hope it provides a useful place for repose, reflection and reading. Hope you enjoy your visit here and look forward to seeing you again. New poems, links and blogs are constantly being added and updated.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Monday, April 29, 2013
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Friday, April 26, 2013
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Monday, April 22, 2013
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Friday, April 19, 2013
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Monday, April 15, 2013
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Friday, April 12, 2013
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Mar Portugues - Fernando Pessoa
Ó mar salgado, quanto do teu sal
São lágrimas de Portugal!
Por te cruzarmos, quantas mães choraram,
Quantos filhos em vão rezaram!
Quantas noivas ficaram por casar
Para que fosses nosso, ó mar!
Valeu a pena? Tudo vale a pena
Se a alma não é pequena.
Quem quere passar além do Bojador
Tem que passar além da dor.
Deus ao mar o perigo e o abismo deu,
Mas nele é que espelhou o céu.
Fernando Pessoa
Monday, April 1, 2013
NaPoWriMo
We are here! It's April, National Poetry Writer's Month. Check out additional links here: my NaPoWriMo blog
Sunday, March 31, 2013
On April 1 Eve
So it is Sunday morning and I have a pot of coffee, french-pressed because I love the sludge it leaves at the bottom of the cup. What will tomorrow bring? What will April bring? What rough beast...
I am thinking Whitman. But it won't be "the blab of the pave." No, more like the whispers of the dirt road, the Southern dirt road. Tobacco Road. The me inside, not the mask that I wear. I am thinking long, pre-dawn walks along the Potomac River. I am thinking the beauty of the women of my people, and the immortality of the soul, and the indomitability of the human spirit. All our people. All our souls. All our spirits.
Perhaps we'll link up in this exercise, me and my ModPo colleagues (you know who you are!). What I write will certainly be influenced by readings and discussions from Know Thyself, a Coursera course I am taking from the University of Virginia. And there will be traces of thoughts from Songwriting, another Coursera course from the Berklee School of Music that ends early in the month. This Coursera thing is a cult, you know...
So it is Sunday morning and I am going for the second cup. Toss in a pod of cardamon for a slight narcotic effect. Sip slowly. "Write fearlessly."
I am thinking Whitman. But it won't be "the blab of the pave." No, more like the whispers of the dirt road, the Southern dirt road. Tobacco Road. The me inside, not the mask that I wear. I am thinking long, pre-dawn walks along the Potomac River. I am thinking the beauty of the women of my people, and the immortality of the soul, and the indomitability of the human spirit. All our people. All our souls. All our spirits.
Perhaps we'll link up in this exercise, me and my ModPo colleagues (you know who you are!). What I write will certainly be influenced by readings and discussions from Know Thyself, a Coursera course I am taking from the University of Virginia. And there will be traces of thoughts from Songwriting, another Coursera course from the Berklee School of Music that ends early in the month. This Coursera thing is a cult, you know...
So it is Sunday morning and I am going for the second cup. Toss in a pod of cardamon for a slight narcotic effect. Sip slowly. "Write fearlessly."
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