On the 26th of September we celebrated T.S. Eliot's birthday. He would have been 125 years old.
The celebration consisted of reading J. Alfred Prufrock again and again, it was quite fun. One gets different perspectives with different voices and reading it again.
"Let us go then you and I......." off to WRFRlp.
Listen every Tuesday and Thursday morning from 7 a.m. until 8 a.m. on WRFR.org Poetry, Short Stories, and various writings both classic and local read aloud.
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Saturday, September 14, 2013
Thursday September 19 Stevie Smith
We come up on the great English author and poet Stevie Smith. She was born Florence Margaret Smith and went by the name Stevie, she was born Sept 20, 1902 and died March 7 1971. She chose the name "Stevie" after a jockey she admired and her friends began calling her this name and she felt it would be a good pen name.
she described the world in which she grew up in the poem "A House of Mercy"
It was a house of female habitation,
Two ladies fair inhabited the house,
And they were brave. For although Fear knocked loud
Upon the door, and said he must come in,
They did not let him in
and then there is of course her powerful poem,
Not Waving, but Drowning
Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.
Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.
Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.
she described the world in which she grew up in the poem "A House of Mercy"
It was a house of female habitation,
Two ladies fair inhabited the house,
And they were brave. For although Fear knocked loud
Upon the door, and said he must come in,
They did not let him in
and then there is of course her powerful poem,
![]() |
Stevie Smith photo courtesy of poetryfoundation.org |
Not Waving, but Drowning
Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.
Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.
Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.
Thursday Sept 12 Richard Wright
During tha last few years of Richard Wright's life he wrote many, many haiku. The author of such the classic Native Son which spoke in such a powerful and grand way found deep expression in the simple surroundings of his world near Paris. These are the poems of the day, and what a treasure they are to find.
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Richard Wright photo courtesy of notablebiographies |
Thursday, September 5, 2013
September 5 Seamus Heaney
Today I read Seamus Heaney Poetry to commemorate his great life.
As he died on August 30th, it is of note that we remember one of our great poets.
As he died on August 30th, it is of note that we remember one of our great poets.
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