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Mute Poetry Jam

spiderweb.jpg
(Some web. Courtesy of Google Images, y’all.)
Dear Ann,
In honor of the Feast of St. Brigid (and Groundhog Day), the blogiverse is celebrating with its third annual Silent Poetry Reading.
When it’s my turn at the silent mike, here’s what I’m going to read.
Location, Location, by Michael Milburn. (From this book).
Everybody grab a poem and get in line!
Love,
Kay
P.S. If you’re here because you read a rumor that Ann was dabbling in handknit chickenwear, scroll down. And sit down. Our girl has flown the coop.

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12 Comments

12 Comments

  1. Make sure to light a candle to read by, because it’s also Candlemas day.

  2. This is so wonderful. I’ve just begun to read, and I’ve bookmarked every link I’ve clicked on. And what a range! I think I have to quit my job and spend my days reading poetry and making strange owls.

  3. What a tender poem. Now I’m all misty-eyed.

  4. thank you
    for this lovely day

  5. Thank you for that little bit of sweetness!

  6. Since it’s still 02/02, here’s my offering at the silent mike:
    For strutting, feathers are now much too plain,
    As chickens, too, can be quite vain,
    So with flying fingers Ann did create
    And chickens, now: a fashion plate!
    LoveDiane

  7. lovely touching poem. for another sweet poem – check out Yarn Harlot’s father in law’s poem on her blog. he writes one special for St Brigid’s Day for her to post every year.

  8. to my dog, adrian mitchell
    THis gentle beast
    This golden beast
    laid her long chin
    along my wrist
    and my wrist
    is branded
    with her love
    and trust
    and the slat of my cheek
    is hers to lick
    so long as I
    or she shall last

  9. to my dog, adrian mitchell
    THis gentle beast
    This golden beast
    laid her long chin
    along my wrist
    and my wrist
    is branded
    with her love
    and trust
    and the slat of my cheek
    is hers to lick
    so long as I
    or she shall last

  10. Just thought I’d look up the poet laureate, Charles Simic. I just read about him. I found this poem which seems to fit the occasion:
    SECRET HISTORY
    Of the light in my room:
    Its mood swings,
    Dark-morning glooms,
    Summer ecstasies.
    Spider on the wall,
    Lamp burning late,
    Shoes left by the bed,
    I’m your humble scribe.
    Dust balls, simple souls
    Conferring in the corner.
    The pearl earring she lost,
    Still to be found.
    Silence of falling snow,
    Night vanishing without trace,
    Only to return.
    I’m your humble scribe.

  11. thank you so much for participating…I am still following the strands of poetry and am so grateful of all I am finding.

  12. And then there are poems that you wish didn’t have to exist, but who has not been here/done this?
    The Quarrel
    by Linda Pastan
    If there were a monument
    to silence, it would not be
    the tree whose leaves
    murmur continuously
    among themselves;
    nor would it be the pond
    whose seeming stillness
    is shattered
    by the quicksilver
    surfacing of fish.
    If there were a monument
    to silence, it would be you
    standing so upright, so unforgiving,
    your mute back deflecting
    every word I say.
    From American Life in Poetry: Column 149
    BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006
    American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright (c) 2007 by Linda Pastan, whose most recent book of poetry is “Queen of a Rainy Country,” W. W. Norton & Co., 2006 . Reprinted from “Solo Cafe 2: Oppression & Forgiveness,” Vol. 2, Solo Press, 2007, by permission of Linda Pastan. Introduction copyright (c) 2007 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.