On being ravished, or why the Iceland Writers Retreat is simply perfect

And now for the other side of the story, and why it is so likely that I will be going to the IWR again. It's hard to encapsulate this event. To say it was life-changing sounds trite and overblown, but it was so for me. When I went, it was with a mind set of…

Playing with words

And polishing the kitchen in an attempt to clear the mind. It's amazing how ammonia and water can clean surfaces and sinuses and brain waves with equal efficiency. One is somehow and oddly immediately in need of some Lewis Carroll. And so, herein: "Jabberwocky" 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in…

Wonderful blog by Amanda Earl

And some fun poetry exercises to try...homosyntaxism! http://amandaearl.blogspot.ca/2014/04/oulipost-24-homosyntaxism.html And here's the originating Oulipost site: http://www.foundpoetryreview.com/blog/oulipost-24-homosyntaxism/

Aubade, by Philip Larkin

Love Larkin's poetry. This one, an aubade, or a dawn song, usually apparently written by a departing lover looking at a sleeping woman, I'm posting for two reasons - first, to remind me I want to try my hand at this format, which deals with separation, distance, longing; and second; because it is both beautiful…

Poetry published on OHForgery…

Learning again Sonnet  When I was just a tiny girl I used to want to find my boy But now that my whole life's awhirl I find that men, they do annoy. They want a gal to fill their tum And keep them warm and often touched Unless I cheer them, they are glum And…

The Worst Poetry I Have Ever Read

The Worst Poetry I Have Ever Read. Oh my golly! I laughed so hard coffee came out my nose reading this. Early shades of "shades of" - dreck that is unreasonably popular. Goshens I'd like to hear the audiobook of "This is My Beloved". I MAY have to buy the ebook. I could use the…

Creativity and NaNoWriMo and letting yourself play

The creative impulse is a tricky one. These paintings were done by my dad while somewhat high on morphine for his cancer. They're different than any of his other paintings and I've always loved them. Well, in truth, I finished the pregnant lady one for him - he'd drawn it but not painted it. I…

A little poem of wobbly quality

Put together She assembles herself as She pulls herself out of the dryer. Shirt, bra, underwear One sock. Much later, the other. She finds it nestled in the bedsheets Tumbled together in the thread eroding cycles One covered with gym sweat, the other with night sweat. A malodorous bundle, now cleansed. Assembled, she looks around…

From Rob Breszny

All night I could not sleep Because of the moonlight on my bed. I kept on hearing a voice calling: Out of Nowhere, Nothing answered "yes." - Zi Ye, translated by Arthur Waley, *A Hundred and Seventy Chinese Poems*