Posts Tagged

Poetry

Douglas MercerEssays

Gorman by Douglas Mercer SHE’S YOUNG and she’s jet black! She’s beautiful! — that is, if you like that Lower Paleolithic look. She’s Black and she’s a poet! Why, she’s the Black Shakespeare! Better than Shakespeare really, because he’s…
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Andrew HamiltonEssays

A quintessential Yankee poem by New England’s quintessential Yankee poet by Andrew Hamilton DISCUSSING Robert Frost’s collection Steeple Bush in the New York Times upon its release in 1947, poet Randall Jarrell devoted the bulk of his review to quoting and summarizing…
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Poetry

by Ray W. JOHANN Wolfgang von Goethe devoted half the Eighteenth Century
To a whole new approach to reality —
Nature is alive, not a bloodless mechanical toy
Or a bland, empty black void. Sinnlich-sittlich was this thinking man’s dual expression
To suggest outward form linked to inner…
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Video

by Snow Shadow A rat is a rat.
You cannot say that,
In the Day of the Rat. You cannot defend yourself for what you say,
This is not a game we play. But you can call a bat a cat.
You can say that. You can call a dog a frog,
Tell a bear he is a hare. But you cannot call a rat a rat.
No. You can never say that. The rats can all…
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EssaysVideo

IF you’re going to try, go all the way.
Otherwise, don’t even start. If you’re going to try, go all the way.
This could mean losing girlfriends,
Wives, relatives, jobs and maybe your mind. Go all the way.
It could mean not eating for three or four days.
It could mean freezing on a park…
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Poetry

by Broadhat We need:
The new authority.
Renew authority.

High trust
Self disciplined
Loyal to the Folk

Kings above,
Folk below,
Same blood, same soul, 
same destiny.

They compromised their loyalty,
They compromised their blood.

Neither fish nor fowl;
nor folk or fully foe.
Pity them, if pity have you…
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Poetry

Robert Frost by Robert Frost
from Steeple Bush (1947) Harrison loves my country too,
But wants it all made over new.
He’s Freudian Viennese by night.
By day he’s Marxian Muscovite.
It isn’t because he’s Russian Jew.
He’s Puritan Yankee through and through.
He dotes on Saturday pork and beans.
But his…
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Classic EssaysRevilo P. Oliver

by An Instaurationist This sky throughout the day
Made thunderstorms in play,
Piling them up until
The East was hill on hill
Of gleaming gold and quartz
And crags and granite forts.
Now like a tired, small child,
With closed eye dream-beguiled,
It sleeps athwart the land,
But clenching in trailing hand…
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Fiction

by Lord Flint’s Volunteer I WENT TO the track.
A good night out watching the greyhounds race and having a bet. The mechanical rabbit whizzed past.
Traps sprang open.
Dogs chased.
They ran full tilt.
Perfect canine athletes, they ran as if their lives depended on it.
Trying to catch a mechanical…
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News

TODAY, in poetry class, we celebrate the marginal achievements of People of Colour. No, don’t try and get out. The doors are locked. Plus, this time it’s worth staying. Alice Walker is a revered Black authoress. In my experience, revered Black authors and authoresses tend to be not very good. They usually…
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