The City of Newark and NJPAC to Host 2010 Geraldine R. Dodge Poetry Festival, October... -- NEWARK, N.J., April 19 /PRNewswire-USNewswire/ --

 "The City of Newark and NJPAC to Host 2010 Geraldine R. Dodge Poetry Festival, October 7-10, 2010

Biennial event to feature MORE THAN three dozen renowned poets, including four U.S. Poets Laureate, Pulitzer Prize winners, and other acclaimed, award-winning and widely-published poets - Tickets go on sale Friday, April 23rd

Expected to attract 20,000 to NJPAC and other Newark venues

NEWARK, N.J., April 19 /PRNewswire-USNewswire/ -- From Thursday, October 7 through Sunday, October 10, the City of Newark and New Jersey Performing Arts Center (NJPAC) will host the largest poetry event in North America, the 2010 Geraldine R. Dodge Poetry Festival. Tickets for the Festival go on sale beginning Friday, April 23rd (see below for complete Ticket Information and Festival Prices). The Festival is sponsored, in part, by the Bank of America and PSEG Foundation."    Full Story

Confession Tuesday

Tuesday has arrived quite in schedule so I’ll saunter on down to the confessional. Care to follow?
 Dear Reader-
 I confess that last yesterday afternoon, after a routine doctor appointment and trip by the chiropractor’s office, went home and fixed my wife and I dinner and then promptly crashed for the evening. I felt a little under the weather and as a result did nothing that I would normally do in the evening. No reading, no writing, didn’t turn on the computer. I’m sorry to say I didn’t even clean up the kitchen after dinner. This morning I actually feel only slightly more functional. ~0~

My son had been out of town for a week and I would dog sit in the evenings and on weekend while he was away. Evidently something went array in his upbringing because while I’m proud of him and what he has done with his life, I cannot explain his attraction to the fox cable news network. We picked him up and the airport and took him back to his house and we had only gotten about five or six blocks when he texts my wife and says his TV has some kind of virus… he turned it on and got MSNBC (which was intentional on my part). I confess I laughed my ass off all day long and still chuckle thinking about it. ~0~

Looking at my present journal (maybe half full) I confess I want to replace it with a refill because it bugs me when I have a few lines of something I’ve written that I abandon and move one. Once that happens a few times and or I have stuff I’ve crossed out it really starts to gnaw at me and I want a fresh new refill. Of course I don’t run out and replace it… I suffer through it to completion and I do mean suffer because it really bugs me. I can clearly see I have weeks of annoyance left to work through. I may have to see a therapist.

Thanks for listening dear reader… now we can get on with our week.

From Natalie Merchant, a Literary Tour - NYTimes.com

From Natalie Merchant, a Literary Tour - NYTimes.com: "A FEW weeks ago Natalie Merchant was pondering what the promotional sticker should say on the package of her new album, “Leave Your Sleep.” She was worried that “the P-word,” as she put it, might deter potential listeners. The P-word? What unseemly term could Ms. Merchant, one of pop’s most kindly and conscientious voices for nearly three decades, possibly need to hide behind an initial?" CLICK TO READ THE ENTIRE STORY

To Think of Summer

[For today's prompt, take the phrase "To (blank)," replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write the poem. Some examples: "To the left, to the left," "To write or not to write," "To Kill a Hummingbird," "To the Doghouse," etc. There are so many possibilities.]


There you are—
on the wings of summer

wind in your hair
Marigolds everywhere

sunshine falls across your face
brown eyes shine without a care

you entice seemingly
without even knowing

I think you wear summer
best of all

Body and Mind

[For today's prompt, write a science poem. Science encompasses a lot, so your poem doesn't have to be scientific to still be a science poem. For instance, you could have a poem titled something like "The Science of Love," and then examine a relationship. Voila! A science poem! Of course, it'll be interesting to see how many poets talk about volcanoes and single cell organisms, not to mention finding out how many "mad scientists" are out there.]


"every cell in your body is eavesdropping on the brain" ~ Deepak Chopra

Every cell?
The cells in the second joint
of my left pinkie finger?

This idea of "smart cells"
poses a whole new bioethics.

If I knew full well
that it's unlawful to drive drunk,
then falling off the wagon
and operating a vehicle
is more than a lapse of judgment.
My legs and feet that did not walk away
knew, my hand that kept
raising the beer can had knowledge—
so many cell co-opted in this—
they could have intervened
but failed to.

Somehow
this makes any transgression
seem worse. Let's face it,
your whole body
was into the act.

When I was told no more cookies
before dinner and then caught
in the cookie jar, had my had slapped…
it deserved it, for it too was culpable,
as were my shins and elbows—
hell, poke my eyes for good measure
and ground my sperm!
They all were in on it.

Knowledge is a heavy responsibility.
My whole body is convulsing at my thoughts

So Easy – So Scary

Technorati Tags: no restrictions at gun shows

 

 

Technorati Tags: lack of restrictions,gun purchases

Deadline

[For today's prompt, write a deadline poem. You can interpret what a deadline poem is however you wish. Maybe it's a poem that laments the idea of deadlines. Maybe it's a poem about someone intentionally missing them or who never has problems with them (I wish I were that person). Regardless of how you take it, remember that you have until tomorrow before another prompt will be posted. Consider that your poetic deadline.]




In an urban trauma center
a gunshot victim
becomes just a portion
of the 2 am bedlam—

the changing of the guard;
EMTs hand off the victim
to the hospital staff—

in a hurried continuum
down a corridor
throw swinging doors
now under bright lights
the crimson soaked shirt
is cut away—

bags to IV tubes refreshed,
monitor hooked up,
orders shouted like barking
from competing street vendors

from here it looks like chaos
but the movement is routine
as a well practiced fire drill.
This is the fifth or sixth gunshot
this week— I lose count
and it’s only Thursday.

“We’re losing him” shouts a voice…
“Stand back,” comes another.
“Clear!” things become
slow motion here. Another,
“clear!”

The red line on the monitor flattens out—
They've reached another deadline;
“Time of death 2:32 a.m.”