National Poetry Writing Month begins today. Will you write 30 poems in 30 days? Well, no. I won’t, not me personally. I retired from writing poetry a couple years ago. But before I did I wrote four books and am currently looking to publish them, so I definitely salute the annual celebration of the art. Here at S&R we have
Read moreI was never great at love poems, but these two are probably my best. Gravity: Summer Solstice, 1992 – for Mary Go tell it to the sea, how he should let go his moonstruck, his shameless high tides – climbing each day, each night kissing at her cloudless indifference.
Read moreI’ve never quite understood the conventions surrounding the terms “midsummer” and “midwinter.” Each is used to describe the solstice – June 21st or so and December 21st or so – which are, as you know, the beginnings of summer and winter, not the middle. Today is Imbolc, which we popularly celebrate as Groundhog Day.(I’m not sure whether Punxatawney Phil saw
Read moreInteresting item from Kevin Pocock over at Poejazzi, which I found out about because he linked my piece on walking away from it all. Much to think about there, but items #2 and #9 are near and dear to my heart. Also #5, which certainly describes me, as much as I hate to admit it.
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I wrote my first poem when I was a senior at Ledford High School in Wallburg, NC. It was called “Octoberfaust,” and while it wasn’t a terribly good poem, it wasn’t bad for a 17 year-old having his first crack at something brand new. My English teacher, a guy named Jim Booth, whom S&R readers may have heard of, was
Read moreMarch 21 is the UN’s World Poetry Day, and we here at S&R invite our readers to celebrate the event along with us. Hit the comment thread and offer up a bit of verse – something you admire, something you wrote, whatever. I’ll go first, and I’ll do a bit of both. In my latest (as yet unpublished) book, there
Read moreThe truth is that I have never really cared for most of the American poetry canon. Yes, there are exceptions. If you count TS Eliot as an American (and since he was born in St. Louis, you kind of have to), then he was my favorite (although, since he abandoned the US and went to Europe, I also wound up
Read moreChardonnay – Gravity: Summer Solstice, 1992 Go tell it to the sea, how he should let go his moonstruck, his shameless high tides – climbing each day, each night kissing at her cloudless indifference. Perhaps he’d answer that it’s all cyclical – hope driving him up the beach and the brooding low tides. Even so, most of his time is
Read moreFirst, I hope you checked out today’s outstanding S&R LitJournal offering from Changming Yuan. If not, you really oughta. Second, in addition to being a talented writer, Changming also edits Poetry Pacific in Vancouver. Give it a look. In particular, I really liked the set from Laurence Overmire – very vivid and immediate, I thought. Finally, a literary journal that published
Read moreWait – what? The world didn’t end? Son of a bitch. Didn’t see that coming. Okay. Rebooting. So, some time back I wrote a poem about the end of the world. All things considered, today seems like a good day to post it. Enjoy. To Be Continued (Ars Poetica) I expected more from the end of the world. But the sun
Read moreTwo roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. While I’ve never conducted formal research on the question, it has always seemed to me that America’s favorite poem is Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken.” (AmericanPoems.com says it’s number three, and frankly, I’d like a look at their
Read moreThe Summer 2012 issue of Amethyst Arsenic, a great online poetry and art journal, is now available, featuring poetry from Cassandra de Alba, Mary Kovaleski Byrnes, James Caroline, Meaghan Ford, Hannah Galvin, Casey Rocheteau, Rene Schwiesow, Steve Subrizi and many more. Plus, art from Pauline Lim, Ivan de Monbrison and Jessica Pinsky. Also, yes, I have three pieces in it: “1638,”
Read moreMy parents split when I was three years old and I was sent to live with my paternal grandparents. My father was around – he lived a couple blocks away as I was growing up – but I didn’t see him much. In essence, my grandfather, Samuel Linville Smith, was my father. I will ever be grateful for the courage
Read moreAs I Facebooked last night: After more than three years of writing, editing, revising, and of course enduring the emotional agony that engenders so many of my best ideas, I have finally arrived at what I’m choosing to call a 1.0 version of my new book, tentatively entitled The Butterfly Machine. Now, like any business-savvy poet, I’m on to the
Read moreSo, it appears campaign season is under way in earnest. Mr. Obama officially kicked off the festivities in Virginia and Ohio yesterday, and we saw our first Mitt-scorcher on Denver TV a couple days ago. I’ve been thinking about the Obama administration’s performance to date for a few months, and perhaps now is as good a time as any to
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lullaby pit 