Heat by Hilda Doolittle

Heat
1915

O wind, rend open the heat,
cut apart the heat,
rend it to tatters.

Fruit cannot drop
through this thick air–
fruit cannot fall into heat
that presses up and blunts
the points of pears
and rounds the grapes.

Cut the heat–
plough through it,
turning it on either side
of your path

Hilda Doolittle

Hilda Doolittle
Born: 10 September 1886, Pennsylvania, USA
Nationality: American
Died: 27 September 1961, Zurich, Switzerland

Doolittle was a novelist, poet, and memoirist associated with the early 20th-century avant-garde imagist poets, including Richard Aldington and Ezra Pound. Doolittle published under the pen name H.D. She grew up just outside Philadelphia, moving to London in 1911. Married once, Doolittle had several relationships with both men and women and unapologetic about her sexuality became an icon for both the LGBT and feminist movements when her poems , plays and essays reappeared in the 1970s and 1980s

Balada Notes

With an insistent refrain the Balada is a dance song with a full refrain after each stanza. The refrain’s first line is also repeated after the first and second line or section of each stanza. The poem consists of three etanzaic verses of at least five lines, such as quintets, sestets, octets, etc. The first two stanzas are identical in structure and the third forms the refrain or the repos

There is no set meter, although 6 or 7 syllable lines are the most common.

Rhyme scheme using quintains: AbAbA bAbaA bAbaB

.Example

Dumb Them Down by Larry Eberhart

Don’t let them learn too much,
just dumb them down in school.
Don’t let them learn too much,
they’re easier to fool.
Don’t let them learn too much.

Get them before pre-school.
Don’t let them learn too much.
Indoctrination’s cool;
they’ll need us for a crutch.
Don’t let them learn too much.

Do not allow home-school,
Don’t let them learn too much.
Elites must not lose rule,
Send them to war and such,
Don’t let them learn too much

Truth

Truth
Form: Abstract Poetry

Truth is purity.
Truth feels like a soft downy feather.
Truth smells of citric fruit on a warm day.
Truth looks like a baby.
Truth sounds like a breeze in the trees.
Truth tastes like polo mints.
Truth is the mother of trust.
Truth keeps the heart clean.
Truth sleeps with the angels

©JGFarmer2008

Maria by Leonard Bernstein

Maria
1957
Musicals

Leonard Bernstein

Leonard Bernstein
Musicals, Opera
Born: 25 August 1918, Massachusetts, USA
Nationality: American
Died: 4 October 1990, New York, USA

Bernstein was a composer, conductor, pianist, educator, author, and humanitarian. Consider among the most important conductors of his time Bernstein was the first American conductor to receive international acclaim. Best known for the musical West Side Story, as a composer he wrote in various styles including orchestral music and symphonies, ballets, film and theatre music, opera, and piano works

#TenderTuesday . . . Beauty is the living creatures around the world

Purplerays

    .

    Beauty

    Every time I go outside, I enter a world of beauty.
    The bees, the trees, the flowers, everything counts to me as beauty.
    Beauty is not just saying how someone or something looks,
    But it shows how Mother Nature has really worked to bring her living creatures alive. Beauty is the sun shining on my head.
    Beauty is the trees giving me shade when it’s too hot.
    Beauty is neither a man nor a woman,
    But beauty is the living creatures around the world.

    By Maletsah Jones

    Artist: Wendy Edelson

            Text and image source: Snowwolfs Woodland Nook https://www.facebook.com/531188960392510/posts/1970146459830079/

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            Visiting Time

            A Garret Poet

            Visiting Time
            Form: Triolet Sonnet
            Theme: Love
            Subject: A hospital bed

            I went to see her yesterday
            To sit beside and hold her hand
            Just like I do every day
            I went to see her yesterday
            I see her eyes so far away
            This isn’t how we had it planned
            I went to see her yesterday
            To sit beside and hold her hand
            We chat memories in some way
            I went to see her yesterday
            Not knowing if it’s the last day
            For time passes like grains of sand
            I went to see her yesterday
            To sit beside and hold her hand

            Photo by Matthias Zomer on Pexels.com

            ©JGFarmer2021

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