?

Log in

No account? Create an account
Little Willow [userpic]

Poetry Friday: maggie and milly and molly and may by e.e. cummings

October 26th, 2018 (05:00 am)
determined

Current Mood: determined
Current Song: Mine by Phoebe Ryan

maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea

- maggie and milly and molly and may by e.e. cummings

View all posts tagged as Poetry Friday at Bildungsroman.

View the roundup schedule at A Year of Reading.

Learn more about Poetry Friday.

Little Willow [userpic]

Book Fair for Two D.C. Schools

October 20th, 2018 (11:55 am)
cheerful

Current Mood: cheerful
Current Song: So Rude by ORKID

Reposting from Colleen at Chasing Ray:

We have shifted our annual book fair for Ballou Senior High School over here and added their "feeder" school, Charles Hart Middle School, to the project. Our goal, as always, is to get books onto the shelves of Washington DC school libraries that need them and I hope lots of you are onboard this year to help us make 2018 our best book fair ever.

Like many schools across the country, Ballou and Hart both struggle to find money in the budget for books the students want to read. That is where our annual book fair can make such a difference: the lists are created/approved/designed by the school librarians, Melissa Jackson and Nijma Esad. The students at Ballou also chime in with books they longing to read and what we ultimately end up with are lists for two schools that are wholly unique and 100% suited to their student bodies. [These schools] are located in high poverty areas of our nation's capitol, their student bodies do not have much access to books, and their budgets are stretched thin covering a zillion other things the students need.

How to help: Click the links below to purchase books for each school!

http://tinyurl.com/BookFairBallouHS

https://tinyurl.com/BookFairCharlesHart

Little Willow [userpic]

Poetry Friday: October (section I) by Louise Glück

October 19th, 2018 (05:00 am)
awake

Current Mood: awake
Current Song: Cold Fire by KLOUD

Is it winter again, is it cold again,
didn't Frank just slip on the ice,
didn't he heal, weren't the spring seeds planted

didn't the night end,
didn't the melting ice
flood the narrow gutters

wasn't my body
rescued, wasn't it safe

didn't the scar form, invisible
above the injury

terror and cold,
didn't they just end, wasn't the back garden
harrowed and planted-

I remember how the earth felt, red and dense,
in stiff rows, weren't the seeds planted,
didn't vines climb the south wall

I can't hear your voice
for the wind's cries, whistling over the bare ground

I no longer care
what sound it makes

when was I silenced, when did it first seem
pointless to describe that sound

what it sounds like can't change what it is—

didn't the night end, wasn't the earth
safe when it was planted

didn't we plant the seeds,
weren't we necessary to the earth,

the vines, were they harvested?

- October (section I) by Louise Glück

View all posts tagged as Poetry Friday at Bildungsroman.

View the roundup schedule at A Year of Reading.

Learn more about Poetry Friday.

Little Willow [userpic]

Poetry Friday: Forget About Me by Pablo Neruda

October 12th, 2018 (06:00 am)
sleepy

Current Mood: sleepy
Current Song: Deliverance by Chvrches

Among the things the sea throws up,
let us hunt for the most petrified,
violet claws of crabs,
little skulls of dead fish,
smooth syllables of wood,
small countries of mother-of-pearl;
let us look for what the sea undid
insistently, carelessly,
what it broke up and abandoned,
and left behind for us.

Petals crimped up,
cotton from the tidewash,
useless sea-jewels,
and sweet bones of birds
still in the poise of flight.

The sea washed up its tidewrack,
the air played with the sea-things;
when there was sun, it embraced them,
and time lives close to the sea,
counting and touching what exists.

I know all the algae,
the white eyes of the sand,
the tiny merchandise
of the tides in autumn,
and I walk with the plump pelican,
building its soaking nests,
sponges that worship the wind,
shelves of undersea shadow,
but nothing more moving
than the vestiges of shipwrecks-
the smooth abandoned beams
gnawed by the waves
and disdained by death.

Let us look for secret things
somewhere in the world,
on the blue shore of silence
or where the storm has passed,
rampaging like a train.
There the faint signs are left,
coins of time and water,
debris, celestial ash
and the irreplaceable rapture
of sharing in the labor
of solitude and the sand.

- Forget About Me by Pablo Neruda

View all posts tagged as Poetry Friday at Bildungsroman.

View the roundup schedule at A Year of Reading.

Learn more about Poetry Friday.

Little Willow [userpic]

Poetry Friday: Incantation By Czeslaw Milosz

October 5th, 2018 (06:00 am)
sleepy

Current Mood: sleepy
Current Song: Unwind by Guy Garvey

Human reason is beautiful and invincible.
No bars, no barbed wire, no pulping of books,
No sentence of banishment can prevail against it.
It establishes the universal ideas in language,
And guides our hand so we write Truth and Justice
With capital letters, lie and oppression with small.
It puts what should be above things as they are,
Is an enemy of despair and a friend of hope.
It does not know Jew from Greek or slave from master,
Giving us the estate of the world to manage.
It saves austere and transparent phrases
From the filthy discord of tortured words.
It says that everything is new under the sun,
Opens the congealed fist of the past.
Beautiful and very young are Philo-Sophia
And poetry, her ally in the service of the good.
As late as yesterday Nature celebrated their birth,
The news was brought to the mountains by a unicorn and an echo.
Their friendship will be glorious, their time has no limit.
Their enemies have delivered themselves to destruction.

- Incantation by Czeslaw Milosz, translated by Czeslaw Milosz and Robert Pinsky

View all posts tagged as Poetry Friday at Bildungsroman.

View the roundup schedule at A Year of Reading.

Learn more about Poetry Friday.

Little Willow [userpic]

Best Books of September 2018

September 30th, 2018 (03:45 pm)
determined

Current Mood: determined
Current Song: Lost River score music

September: 12 books and scripts read

Another month where the vast majority of what I read is currently unpublished, so I can't share those details. I can point you towards Sadie by Courtney Summers, which was officially released in September. It's been haunting me ever since I read it. Click here to check out my interview with Courtney Summers and learn more about Sadie.

Little Willow [userpic]

Poetry Friday: The Hands Are First to Believe by Frederick Nicklaus

September 28th, 2018 (05:00 am)
determined

Current Mood: determined
Current Song: Come On Get Higher by Matt Nathanson

The hands are first to believe,
trembling, alive;
the brain gone
rigid with disbelief.

- the first stanza of The Hands Are First to Believe by Frederick Nicklaus

Read the poem in its entirety.

View all posts tagged as Poetry Friday at Bildungsroman.

View the roundup schedule at A Year of Reading.

Learn more about Poetry Friday.

Little Willow [userpic]

Poetry Friday: A Woman Sleeps on an Island

September 21st, 2018 (05:00 am)
creative

Current Mood: creative
Current Song: Island by Sara Bareilles

A woman sleeps on an island
and from her hair is born the dwelling place
of memories and wild birds.
Her body is a figurehead,
and they say that since
she fell asleep on the island
she seems to have been touched by the rains
of madness, that her hair blossoms each evening
next to the music of the sea. Others say
her eyelids trace maps of strange geographies,
savage tattoos kept only in the tenuous
circle of her dreams.

A woman sleeps on an island
and stops being herself,
free now of the land.
She sails and drinks
the vastness of the sea.
Seeds fill her floating hair;
she is an island
surrounded by stars.

- A Woman Sleeps on an Island by Marjorie Agosín, translated by Cola Franzen

Original text:

Una mujer duerme en una isla
y del cabello nacen las moradas
de memorias y pájaros salvajes.
Su cuerpo es un mascarón de proa
y dicen que desde
que durmió en la isla
pareciera haber sido tocada por las lluvias
de la demencia, que su pelo florece en los atardeceres
junto a la música del mar. Otros dicen
que sus párpados dibujan mapas de extrañas geografías,
tatuajes salvajes que ella guarda sólo
en la redondez tenue del sueño.

Una mujer duerme en una isla
y deja de ser ella misma
libre ahora de la tierra.
Navega y bebe
la inmensidad del mar.
Las semillas llenan su pelo que flota
y ella es una isla
rodeada de estrellas.

View all posts tagged as Poetry Friday at Bildungsroman.

View the roundup schedule at A Year of Reading.

Learn more about Poetry Friday.

Little Willow [userpic]

Poetry Friday: Rain by Ian Pople

September 14th, 2018 (06:00 am)
awake

Current Mood: awake
Current Song: The Golden Girls score music

A lexicon of words that were not
said in childhood, and all of those
that were, were said beside
an upturned boat, lapped
planking of the creosoted shed,
were said into the wind on
tussocky ground, by farm-rust vehicles.

The buildings I could not complete
without my father's help, the wind
in which I was at sea. Rain blooming
in August that moved the land
and over land toward the autumn,
sliding through the gates of summer,
feeling for the bone inside the wrist.

- Rain by Ian Pople

View all posts tagged as Poetry Friday at Bildungsroman.

View the roundup schedule at A Year of Reading.

Learn more about Poetry Friday.

Little Willow [userpic]

Poetry Friday: To the New Year by W. S. Merwin

September 7th, 2018 (06:00 am)
optimistic

Current Mood: optimistic
Current Song: I Wanna Dance With Somebody by Whitney Houston

With what stillness at last
you appear in the valley
your first sunlight reaching down
to touch the tips of a few
high leaves that do not stir
as though they had not noticed
and did not know you at all
then the voice of a dove calls
from far away in itself
to the hush of the morning

so this is the sound of you
here and now whether or not
anyone hears it this is
where we have come with our age
our knowledge such as it is
and our hopes such as they are
invisible before us
untouched and still possible

- To the New Year by W. S. Merwin

View all posts tagged as Poetry Friday at Bildungsroman.

View the roundup schedule at A Year of Reading.

Learn more about Poetry Friday.