Poetry. Maybe because it’s February and traditionally poems go with romance, whatever the reason, it seems we are feeling that poetry vibe since Nan has just published an outstanding thread that features her poetic musings, and a new member and friend of mine, BradGad, has told our little Reader community that he is a poet! Even the Reader has taken to publishing poems. I invite my fellow bloggers to envision the typical Reader reader reading a poem found in these pages. Yahdude in South Park? Surfer guy in OB? The clerk doing the night shift at 7/11? One of Pike’s costumed ladies over at the Motel 6 on El Cajon Blvd.? But I digress. Steve Kowit, listed as staff here, is of course well known for his poetry handbook, In The Palm Of Your Hand. He is also Poetry editor at an arts and literature site, Perigee, a site I visit often to read their stories and poems.

I read at least two poems a day, sometimes three, often four, lots of times five, frequently six, more often than not seven or more, because I’m greedy when it comes to poetry. The two poem sites I go to daily, usually first thing in the morning, are Rattle, and Every Day Poets. Rattle always has a good poem up, often better than good, a new one each day. Every Day Poets publishes a poem every day as well, but the quality there is hit and miss. On Tuesdays, I read the Slate weekly poem, which is also hit and miss -- but there are great poems, too. Recently, I went back to Poets.org, and remembered what I loved about the site: Riches of writers and their work! Today, for example, I was reading an article on Sara Teasdale, which lead me to a small trove of her work listed on the right side of the page. The article says that in 1918 Teasdale won what is now known as the Pulitzer Prize. This is a bit from a poem, Summer Night, Riverside:

While your kisses and the flowers,

Falling, falling,

Tangled in my hair....

Poets (which it seems I can not write as Poets(dot)org without messing up) is featuring “A Love Song,” by William Carlos Williams. Both Slate and Poets have links so you can choose to hear the poems read: Do yourself a favor and do not click the links. Reading the poems will light your brain up like a sparkler, hearing the poems may cause your ears to hurl chunks. I’ve written about Poets before, they have a forum which is resource-rich for anyone who likes to read, or write, poetry. You can workshop your poems there, and there is also a thread which lists places where you can submit your work when you are ready to take the leap.

And then I came across this little blog which I quite liked and thought I would share it with you. Ray Brown is a poet who writes poems about writing poetry on his blog, A Poet’s Dream. I asked his permission, and he kindly agreed, to allow me to reprint one of his poems here:

Harvest Moon Mooning 2009 November 6 by Ray Brown

Joe mooned the audience at the Open Mic reading

the other night at the Millburn, NJ Library.

I knew he had it in him,

I was just hoping that I would never see it.

Joe always complained

about the “Intelligentsia” in the poetry world.

We would go to workshops,

they would give him some mundane topic

and expect that he would write in esoteric terms

that not even a swami could interpret.

“These people would expect lyrical phases

even if the topic was to write about a fart,”

he told me once.

“Some things are just what they are,

and they aren’t lyrical.”

So when he read his poem at the library

about the outhouse

that was on the Western Pennsylvania farm where he grew up

he started to hear some snickers

saw those condescending smiles in the audience

like “here goes Joe again,”

and all of his William Paterson College A.A. bred inhibitions

broke down, he just lost it.

There at the podium he mooned them,

and that just about said it all,

but it didn’t really.

For you see, if certain writers who were acceptable to

the Intelligentsia had done that, it would have been innovative,

avant-garde. They would have put his picture

on the wall at Poets House in New York

written about it in Poets and Writers Magazine.

But Joe had the wrong initials behind his name -

A.A. instead of M.F.A.

So now as we have a beer at Mechlin’s Corner Tavern

Joe asked me about the old poetry haunts

and Mrs. Snooty who black listed him.

Afterwards he jumps into his chauffeured driven limousine,

he now having become quite the cult idol,

much sought after reader,

with his own booking agent, traveling first class

from college to college throughout the United States.

That’s what one minute of fame, on You Tube,

“Mooning the Intelligentsia”, can do for you.

Ray Brown

Thanks again, Ray! Is that great stuff, or what?

Gotta love it, gotta have it, don’t know what I’d do without it!


CuddleFish Feb. 5, 2010 @ 12:03 a.m.

Can I just take this opportunity to say HOW MUCH I HATE THE POSTING SYSTEM HERE? Gawd, just about any other site on the Internet is easier to use than this site. The HTML tags are a pain, half of them don't work anyway, and by the way, wouldn't it be nice if we could have a few options to choose from?



BradGad Feb. 5, 2010 @ 9:11 a.m.

This is posted hundreds of places on the Web, so I think it's OK to quote in full here, and it seems relevant. It's a favorite of mine.

Eating Poetry Mark Strand

Ink runs from the corners of my mouth. There is no happiness like mine. I have been eating poetry.

The librarian does not believe what she sees. Her eyes are sad and she walks with her hands in her dress.

The poems are gone. The light is dim. The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.

Their eyeballs roll, their blond legs burn like brush. The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.

She does not understand. When I get on my knees and lick her hand, she screams.

I am a new man. I snarl at her and bark. I romp with joy in the bookish dark.


nan shartel Feb. 5, 2010 @ 9:41 a.m.

thx so much my dear Cuddles...and many many fishy kisses for ur mention of me here

my favorite poem is by Nikki Giovanni

it's called Kidnapped

ever been kidnapped by a poet if i were a poet i'd kidnap you put you in my phrases and meter you to Jones Beach or maybe Coney Island

or maybe just to my house lyric you in lilacs dash you in the rain blend into the beach to complement my see play the lyre for you ode you with my love song anything to win you

wrap you in the red Black green show you off to mama yeah if i were a poet i'd kidnap you

now if that ain't just the most Valentine's Day poem i don't know what is!!!!!


nan shartel Feb. 5, 2010 @ 9:46 a.m.


love it and i'd accept that lick and ask for more..poor librarian...maybe that library doesn't have a poetry section that would make her sad

thx so much for the poem...


CuddleFish Feb. 5, 2010 @ 10:23 a.m.

Nan, you are a poetic soul! :) xxxxxx


CuddleFish Feb. 5, 2010 @ 10:24 a.m.

I will be offline for the next couple of hours, don't think me rude if I don't respond right away. xxxxxxx


nan shartel Feb. 5, 2010 @ 10:40 a.m.

OMG Cuddles...u mean u have another life???!!!


CuddleFish Feb. 5, 2010 @ 7:13 p.m.

Shocking, I know ... and I try hard not to have one, but sometimes ya know, no matter how hard I try to hide, Life finds me. sigh


CuddleFish Feb. 6, 2010 @ 9:50 a.m.

The day you do, I want to be there, Joe!


nan shartel Feb. 7, 2010 @ 9:49 a.m.

tiicult..when u do be sure ur ass is waxed and unpimpled.....hahahahahaha...just kiddin' homey


chinamimi Aug. 26, 2010 @ 12:32 a.m.

. However, whichever of these is chosen, it goes through the whole cycle again and again. Any ideas please as to what might have happened, and a cure? Thanks!

http://www.thomassaboschmucksale.com/ http://www.uggbootsladens.com/


Founder Aug. 26, 2010 @ 7:13 a.m.

  • Rhyme-A-Day -

It makes me so happy, to say I write Rhyme, each and every day

Just let your words, express what you feel and see And in no time, you will be writing Poetry

Soon it will be, as easy as, "rolling off a log" and then you too, will be, another star on this Blog

And, if writing Rhyme, is too hard for you Then, I would suggest, writing a Haiku


Founder Aug. 26, 2010 @ 8:42 a.m.

Reply to #1 Yes, posting is NO FUN

Getting our posts, to read, just right Often is a, really, big fight

Maybe, the Reader Team, will soon care and we, can all stop, putting our hair!

And here's a short poem for you CuddleFish I'm hoping you think it's a poetic dish:

Thoughts fly into my fingers

Seeking Freedom to communicate with the outside World

Electrons flow and nerves twitch, creating a muscular symphony

My brain, the conductor, sweats each and every note

seeking visual applause, the screens reaction to my latest Work.


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