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Poetry Cafe – Poem by Portia Nelson
by | September 11, 2012 | 2 Comments
Poetry Cafe – Poem by Portia Nelson

Welcome to the Poetry Café.  Whether you love blank verse or are a solid devotee of iambic pentameter; or love sonnets but aren’t that enamored of the ode; and, if you get Emily D. but wonder what e. e. cummings is trying to tell you, you’re in the right place. Share your original poetry or your favorite poems.
Autobiography in Five Short Chapters
                             by Portia Nelson
 
I.  I walk down the street.
There’s a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost…I am helpless;
it isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.
 
II.  I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in the same place;
but it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

A Rich Life
by | April 15, 2012 | One Comment
A Rich Life

 
I’ve not read Adrienne Rich in years.  Like Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton, she floated through my decades of the sixties and seventies.  They were the creative women I wished to be – except for the parts of their lives that seemed perpetually tortured and always unresolved.  With Plath and Sexton, I simply got tired of their angst and moved on.  With Rich, I stepped back and watched her life shifts from wife and mother to lesbian activist, and significant voice of protest in the anti-war and women’s movement.  Though I couldn’t imagine what living her life could possibly feel like, I admired her clarity and steady move forward – a woman warrior on the front lines of what many of us cared most about outside our daily lives of car pooling, trips with children to the dentist, work, volunteering and managing our homes.  I always wondered how she processed …

The Allure of Poetry – Or Not
by | June 26, 2011 | 5 Comments
The Allure of Poetry – Or Not

When I began WWN, there was no question I’d have a special section for poetry.  But, even as I planned, I knew it would most likely be the least visited part of the website.  No matter.  I believe in poetry with the same fervor I believe we should eat a leafy green every day.  When my oldest granddaughter was about twelve, I gave her a huge book of world poetry.  Only years later did I learn in a casual conversation that she doesn’t like poetry.  It never crossed my mind that that could be possible.
Years ago, when I interviewed people for a living, I spent an hour talking to former President Jimmy Carter at the Carter Center in Atlanta.  I’d been to the Carter Center fairly often and – back in the days before so much security – you could just walk in and wander around.  But that day there …

Welcome to the Poetry Cafe
by | June 12, 2011 | 2 Comments
Welcome to the Poetry Cafe

Welcome to the Poetry Café.  Whether you love blank verse or are a solid devotee of iambic pentameter; or love sonnets but aren’t that enamored of the ode; and, if you get Emily D. but wonder what e. e. cummings is trying to tell you, you’re in the right place. Share your original poetry or your favorite poems.
 
Heat
Michael Chitwood
A Coke bottle stopped
with a sprinkle head
sat at one end of the board.
She’d swap iron for bottle,
splash the cloth,
then go at it with the iron.
The crooked was made straight,
the wrinkled smooth,
and she’d lecture from that altar
where rumpled sheets went crisp.
“If Old Scratch gets his claws
in your thigh or neck,
you burn a thousand years
and that is the first day.”
Our clothes got rigid,
seam matched seam.
Our bodies would ruin her work.
Golden Oldie
I made it home early, only to get
stalled in the driveway-swaying
at the wheel like a blind pianist caught in a tune
meant for more than …

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