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Poetry Cafe

Hi Everybody and Happy Saturday!!!!

*******OPEN MIC will be the first and last Saturday of the month so email me your poems @ bookaddictionreview@gmail.com *********

It's OPEN MIC today and we are highlighting the talent of Kara.  So sit back relax and enjoy the sweet words of Kara ladies and gentlemen!!!!!     (round of applause)

Walking a different path
by Kara L.C. Jones

Your reality seems so far away from me.
Your little dead, bruised body, a dream--
no a nightmare--
that dissolves at the
touch of my fingertips.

My life is different now--
my feet on earth,
my heart hiking
the dreamscape of your world,
following your purple inked footprints
hoping to catch a glimpse
of the mysterious baby
who never was.

My head disconnects--
I can't distinguish the days,
my mind leaves me
when on the phone, and I have
no idea who is on the other end.

Out in public,
My body is a stranger--
I stand before an audience
sharing a poem about you
and I wonder, "Who is that woman
up there obsessing over her son's death?"

My life without you is different now.
I walk alone, I get on the bus without
a stroller, diaper bag, and sleeping bundle.
I move freely around the city heedless
of sleeping schedules or feeding times.

My life is different now
without you.
My life now
is different without you.
Without you, my life now
is different.
My different life is now without you.

Poetry Cafe

Hi Everybody and Happy Saturday!!!!

******OPEN MIC will be the first and last Saturday of the month so email your poems to me @ bookaddictionreview@gmail.com********

It's OPEN MIC today and we are highlighting the talent of Sword Mama.  So sit back relax and enjoy the words of Sword Mama ladies and gentlemen!!!!      (round of appalause)

If Only I Had A Dried Flower To Bleed Upon…

My candle's burned down; the smoke of my blood
sent off to the land of dreams
to awaken my lover who rests his head
upon cottonballs of hopes and desires
dreaming of the day when all will be one.

The dream begins… The waterfall cradled
by the full-mooned Goddess lies
frozen and crystallized.
Full-mooned Goddess awake with halo'd emotion
souly shines upon the frozen beard of Neptune
rays of inspiration and love giving her milky rays
wrapping herself around the cold loving.

I enter the dream. All alone this time.
My tears become the tide. I am the sea.

Three spririts together, of the Earth, back from the
dream
to the Earth again, cycling out cries to the sweet
cherub.

The waterfall needs to flow.
The Sun needs you, the waterfall needs to melt and flow
again by the warmth of our love.
The full-mooned Goddess needs to milk into the tide of
emotion.

My blood calls out to you sweet cherub whoever you
may be inside me.

(c)1999 Heather Lynn Bradley

Poetry Cafe

Hi Everybody and Happy Saturday!!!!

Today I will become the first participant in Open Mic here in the Poetry Cafe.  Among the poetry activities in which we all participate and share with others in the comments your poem needs to be front and center.  I want your work to shine within the post, my post on Saturday will be your poetry.  So share - share - share!!!!   Email me at bookaddictionreview@gmail.com your poem w/name and I will give it the proper showcase it deserves.   I will post Open Mic twice a month.

Sit & Wonder

Today I sit and wonder what to do

Should I wake up and start my day

or should I lie in bed and wallow in sorrow

Today I sit and wonder what to do

Should I help my neighbor with her chores?

or should I stay to myself and help no one

Today I sit and wonder what to do

Should I shout at the rooftops that I’m feeling blessed

or should I keep silent and let my screams remain within

Today I sit and wonder what to do

Should I release the fear that has kept me down for so long?

or should I hold onto something that makes me safe & out of bounds

Today I sit and wonder what to do

Should I live my life happy, free and engaging the joy I feel of helping others to escape the demons, and bars that hold them captive within their own lives

or should I remain a prison guard and help no one including myself, escape the dangerous cells we call our bodies

Today I sit and wonder what to do

I just sit silent with my eyes closed, my hands folded, and my Sunday best dress

and wonder what to do today

                                                                                   by LaToya Rogers

Poetry Cafe

Hi Everybody and Happy Saturday!!!

Take a look at this picture:

Abbey, Iona, Scotland

picture pulled from freefoto.com and the photographer : Ian Britton

Write down the emotions, memories, and ideas that came tumbling through your mind as soon as you saw this picture.  Only use 10 lines maximum to capture that feeling and your last sentence should be "This year it will happen!!!!!" (not included in total).    Once you have revised and edited your poem post it to your blog and provide a link back in the comments section.   As always have fun there is not a wrong or a right way to write a poem about how you feel on a particular topic.

Poetry Cafe

Hello Everybody, Happy Saturday and in a few days Happy New Year!!!!!

To celebrate the new year of 2008 entering into our lives hopefully full of hope and new goals I leave a poem by John Clare.

The Old Year
by John Clare
The Old Year's gone away      To nothingness and night: We cannot find him all the day      Nor hear him in the night: He left no footstep, mark or place      In either shade or sun: The last year he'd a neighbour's face,      In this he's known by none. All nothing everywhere:      Mists we on mornings see Have more of substance when they're here      And more of form than he. He was a friend by every fire,      In every cot and hall-- A guest to every heart's desire,      And now he's nought at all. Old papers thrown away,      Old garments cast aside, The talk of yesterday,      Are things identified; But time once torn away      No voices can recall: The eve of New Year's Day      Left the Old Year lost to all.

Poetry Cafe

Hi Everybody, Happy Saturday and Happy Holidays!!!

I want to share the most popular Chirstmas poem this Saturday and my favorite.

Twas the Night before Christmas Poem

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

by Clement Clarke Moore (1779-1863)

Poetry Cafe

Hi Everybody and Happy Saturday!!!

Announcement:  You guys are awesome poetry writers and I want to showcase your work here on Poetry Cafe.  Email me your poems and a brief 1-2 sentence bio and  I will randomly pick a poem and showcase your work during Poetry Cafe.  Please make sure your words are not offensive, erotic or slanderous.  Please submit your best poem and only one submission per month.   So start conjuring up your divine words in verse and email me at bookaddictionreview@gmail.com

Today we are going to travel around the world to Japan to talk about Haiku poetry.  Haiku is an unrhymed, 17 syllabic form consisting of three lines of 5-7-5 syllables.  The Haiku Society of America defines Haiku as a short poem that uses majestic language to convey the essence of an experience of nature or season intuitively linked to the human condition. Haiku provides rich imagery, expresses the condition of the human heart, and the beauty of nature all in 3 lines.  Due to the brief style of this particular poetry it becomes necessary to capture a single moment in few words.

How to Write Haiku

1) Haiku can describe anything

2) The first line must have 5 syllables- second line must have 7 syllables- third line must have 5 syllables in traditional Japanese structure. In English there are variations of length in syllables. 

3) Must contain a kigo 'season word' which indicates which season the Haiku is set.

Examples:

From a bathing tub

I throw water into the lake-

slight muddiness appears.

by Hekigodo Kawahigashi

First autumn morning

the mirror I stare into

shows my father's face

by Kijo Murakami

So now its time to show off that talent and write your Haiku.  I want to see plenty of Haiku's in the comment section.

Here is mine

Reacting gently

from Mother Nature's slow breath

the autumn trees sway.

Poetry Cafe

Hi Everybody and Happy Saturday!!

I want to share with you the dynamic performance of spoken word poetry.  Spoken word poetry is simply- poetry spoken out loud.  It is usually performed during 'open mic' at most cafe's, restaurants, bookstores or even a college campus.  The poets job is to mesmerize the audience with staccato beats of the words they conjured up to represent their work.  The spoken word movement which started in the 90's in Chicago has become popularized by Def Poetry Jam, a series on HBO, which showcases talented poets.  For a moment this show was on Broadway in New York which sold out to record crowds.

The vitality of this form of poetry expresses the conviction, humor, strength, and motivation which becomes intertwined with the audience and the poet.  You have the opportunity to experience the emotions the poet felt when he/she wrote their words.

I have two examples of spoken word poetry I found on youtube.  I had a hard time embedding the code on this post so I will just provide the links.  Please take a look and especially a listen and see if you can grasp the intentions of the writer.  Its funny how we interpret words differently when they are heard and not read.

Videos pulled from youtube from the show Def Poetry Jam

Alicia Keys "POW"

Shihan "This type Love"

For this weekend activity, write a poem based on your emotions at the very moment that you sit down to write.  Don't edit, just stand up in the mirror and speak the words out loud.  Just say your poem out loud and let your words and emotions combine to permeate the universe.  Shout what you have to say because someone is always listening.  I tried this activity in a writing workshop and it was awesome, some people laughed and others cried because they were able to hear what they wrote out loud which is a different feeling than just reading.

Let me know how you felt about your 'open mic' Spoken Word debut in the comments.

Welcome to Poetry Cafe

Hi everybody and welcome to Poetry Cafe, my name is LaToya, and I will be the Resident Poet each and every Saturday here on justBeConnected.  I am looking forward to writing for and working with this great community of creative bloggers.  Saturday will be a time when we learn about poetry, participate in writing activities, and share our flow of written words with each other.

Poetry by definition is the art of rhythmical composition, written or spoken, for exciting pleasure by beautiful, imaginative, or elevated thoughts.  This rhythmic of grouping words is an exciting tool to explain your feelings of any given moment upon any given situation.  Sometimes poems can also embody the existence of who we are as an individual.  Which is why I decided to do an "Icebreaker" for my first post.  I have picked two poems that are my favorite and in some respect represent who I am as an individual and my growth process.   

The first poem "Mother to Son" by Langston Hughes, describes the struggle of a boy giving up until his mother declares, "I don't think so, get up and face the challenge!"  I first encountered this poem in middle school during Black History Month which I had to read in a school production.  Since that time span, this poem has given me the power to repeat the words over and over, "Don't you set down on the steps - Cause you finds it's kinder hard."

  I present to you Mother to Son by Langston Hughes

Well, son, I’ll tell you:

Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

It’s had tacks in it,

And splinters,

And boards torn up,

And places with no carpet on the floor—

Bare.

But all the time

I’se been a-climbin’ on,

And reachin’ landin’s,

And turnin’ corners,

And sometimes goin’ in the dark

Where there ain’t been no light.

So boy, don’t you turn back.

Don’t you set down on the steps

’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.

Don’t you fall now—

For I’se still goin’, honey,

I’se still climbin’,

And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

My second poem The Road not Taken by Robert Frost.  I encountered this poem by snooping in my grandmother's drawers and came across this old school book of poems.  I started flipping through it and fell in love with the words that scream, "Follow your own path to your destination and not others well worn steps."  I have also kept the words of this poem alive within me to discover - ME.

I bring you The Road not Taken by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Now that I have introduced myself to you - please return the favor and introduce yourself to the community.  In the comments section please provide a link to your blog with poems that best describe the essence of who you are as an individual and inspires you to be the best YOU possible.  It can be an entire poem or just excerpts from different poems, their is no wrong or right way to do it.  Again I welcome you to Poetry Cafe and await the discussions, participations and learning that will commence via the power of words connected thru the rhymthic flow which is poetry.