Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Life of a Poet - Harry Nicholson

Kids, this week we’re nipping Across the Pond to visit a talented writer and artist in England. Today we’re sitting down with Harry Nicholson of  1513Fusion.  Having been enthralled at age thirteen by Wuthering Heights, Cathy and Heathcliff wandering, doomed,  on the wild moors, (a time when surly heroes still appealed to me), my heart skipped a beat when Harry mentioned he lives near thirty miles of moors. I may have to excuse myself for a few minutes during the interview to run amok among the ruins! AND he has Standing Stones! Be still, my heart!



Harry calls this "Old Codgers at Danby" :-)

Poets United: Harry, so nice to visit with you today! Poking around your blog, I discovered  you are a very creative writer and artist. Would you set the scene for us, tell us about where you live, and what life looks like to you on any given day?

Monday, February 27, 2012

The Poetry Pantry Is Now Open! - # 89


The Poetry Pantry
2nd Chance Poems or 1st time shares

Anything goes!! All Poems, all Poets, All Week!!

Do you have a poem you would like to share? Something that you just felt inspired to write and want others to read. Perhaps it’s a poem that didn’t get as much exposure on your blog as you would have liked. Maybe it’s a poem that you wrote a long time ago that you would like people to revisit. That’s what this section of Poets United is for.

Each Sunday we start a new post with a New Mr. Linky for you. This is so that you can post a link to anything you want us to read, anything at all related to poetry or prose found on your own poetry blogs. It will remain open all week so that you can show us your writings and thoughts. You can post links weekly should you chose to do so. What poetry you put here is up to you so don't be afraid to share with us!!


There 3 simple rules:

1. Don’t link to more than 3 poems per week.

2. Please visit some of the other poems linked here when you link to yours.

3. Leave a comment after you have posted
your link.

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Classic Poetry - "Content" by Robert Greene



Robert Greene (1560 - 1592)

Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content;
The quiet mind is richer than a crown;
Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent;
The poor estate scorns fortune's angry frown:
Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss,
Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss.

The homely house that harbours quiet rest;
The cottage that affords no pride nor care;
The mean that 'grees with country music best;
The sweet consort of mirth and music's fare;
Obscured life sets down a type of bliss:
A mind content both crown and kingdom is.

A prolific writer of questionable social repute, Robert Greene supported himself with his writing by selling small books filled with stories about the seedier side of London's night life. Perhaps these works were the earliest inspiration for People Magazine, OK!, and TMZ. In addition, he was a dramatist, writing plays and performances, as well as a poet and essayist.

Friday, February 24, 2012

I Wish I'd Written This

Three poems by Mal Morgan
(all from Throwaway Moon: New and Selected Poems)

freeway

someone
tied two balloons
on the railing
along the side
of the freeway
they’re bobbing up and down
in the wind
like the heads
of laughing children
it’s nice to think
as I drive by
short of breath
that someone’s given
up their air
for me



inside the wire compound
classified as psychiatric

two children
throw stones
at the gardener
who happens to be used
to a certain disorder
amongst wild
and growing things
puts down his wheelbarrow
of topsoil
as if it were full
of rare feathers
puts an outsize hand
in an overall pocket
and pulls out
two
lollipops


I step out

I greet you    morning

embracez moi!

your mouth
                  wide and blue as sky

smell of musk
the earth’s bowels      grass and flowers

streets      too straight for ordinary thieves

I steal a patch of green

bundle my thoughts
collect my dreams      dress

in my tattoo

warm as blood      I step out!


Mal wrote longer poems too, but these three short pieces are the ones I’d most wish to have written — posted here in the order in which I’d most wish that, which happens to be the reverse of the chronological order. There are plenty of others I admire but wouldn’t wish to have occasion to write, particularly those in his last book, Beautiful Veins, written in the knowledge that he was dying of cancer. (He lived to attend the book launch.) But they are not morbid poems. Mal was good at confronting the human condition, and doesn’t shirk it in his last poems; nevertheless they are as wry, whimsical and celebratory of life as those in his previous six volumes. He regarded himself as a surrealist poet, and admired Breton and Apollinaire. I found his work far more accessible than most of the current surrealist writers I’ve encountered. He was an ethnic, though not religious, Jew and this too formed an important strand in his writing.

I first met him in the early eighties when he was editing a magazine called Parachute Poems and I submitted some work. Our correspondence about those poems was the beginning of a friendship that lasted the rest of his life. He was a pharmacist, and in those days worked in the city of Melbourne. I think just about all the poets in Melbourne used to drop into his shop when they were in town, to hang out in the back room for coffee and chat between customers. He hated the commercial side of pharmacy, ‘selling lipsticks and toilet paper’ as he scathingly remarked, and later worked at the Children’s Hospital for less money but much more job satisfaction.

Like our mutual friend Shelton Lea, whom I met when he and I happened to drop into the pharmacy at the same time, Mal was something of a mentor to me when I was beginning to go public as a poet, and later I became the publisher of his third book, a handshake with the moon.

I was by no means the only poet he encouraged. He convened monthly poetry and short fiction readings for several years at La Mama (a small theatre in Melbourne, famous for presenting new and innovative stage plays, some of which went on to become mainstream). For a few years after that, he ran the annual, national poetry and arts festival at the equally famous artists' colony, Montsalvat, in the hills outside Melbourne. He was greatly loved for his generosity of spirit, cheeky humour, and laid-back libertarian philosophies.

Mal was also an editor. This photo, used with permission, was snapped at the the launch of La Mama Poetica, a large anthology of work by poets who had read there over the years. Mal edited it and oversaw the production, and a fine production it is. On the strength of it, Pariah Press, of which I was a member, asked him to publish an anthology of members’ work. He did a very good job with that, too. It was called Walking the Dogs, and is available at various places online, but does not include any of Mal’s own work.


Photo Pamela Sidney ('unofficial' photographer of the Melbourne poetry scene in the eighties and nineties) 
from her blog, Melbourne Poetry Gig Guide.

You can download some of his poetry — and a whole heap of other good reading — in the Cordite Review #9. Also look for him, again amongst many other fine Australian poets, in Divan #1.  His books were:

Poemstones (1976)
Statues Don't Bleed (1984)
A Handshake with the Moon (1987)
Once Father and God (1992)
Throwaway Moon (New and Selected Poems) (1995)
Beautiful Veins (1999)

You can find several available to buy if you Google, particularly the last volume, with its cover portrait by his second wife, the artist Di Morgan. (Others of her paintings of Mal adorn the covers of three of his other books.)

(And sorry, I've done it again. I do get so mixed up about the time diff.)



Poems and photos used in ‘I Wish I’d Written This’ remain the property of the copyright holders (usually their authors).

Thursday, February 23, 2012

The Think Tank Thursday #85 Strings

I thought of a few ideas this week for our prompt. This one kept coming to mind. Our prompt for this week is #85 Strings. When I think of strings, I think of music, connections, and matters that tug at one's heart.

"Enthusiasm is everything. It must be taut and vibrating like a guitar string."
~Pele

"But the lover's power is the poet's power. He can make love from all the common strings with which this world is strung."
~Amelia Barr

"We are only puppets, our strings are being pulled by unknown forces."
~Georg Buchner






I want you to think about strings. I use to play Cat's in the Cradle, when I was a kid. I think of brown paper packages tied up with strings. C'mon I know you know this song, these are a few of "My Favorite Things" by Julie Andrews, in the movie "The Sound of Music". The strings of a cobweb, the string section of instruments, how unique their sound. Perhaps you will think of flying a kite.. So write a poem that you can tie a memory to with strings!   Did I string you along... ;D

If you have a prompt idea (even a Music or Film inspired one) that you would like to suggest or share with us please send it to poetsunited@ymail.com . We keep a folder set aside with all your suggestions and just might use it one day.

There 3 simple rules:

1. Don’t link to more than 3 poems per week.

2. Please visit some of the other poems linked here when you link to yours.

3. Leave a comment after you have posted your link.


Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Life of a Poet - Rene Foran

Well, kids, it must be Wednesday because here we are again. This time we are meeting with the humorous and entertaining Rene Foran of Not the Rockefellers...........Rene is a busy working mom, with a great sense of humour, who has been hanging out at Poets United since its early days. In  Rene's writing, I have encountered a humble and honest heart, and a very endearing quirkyness. Check out On Blogging, for Rene's heartfelt thoughts on blogging.  This is a girl who comes from the heart, a woman who knows how to love. Gather round, kids. You're gonna love her.
Poets United: Rene, it is so nice of you to take the time to talk with us. I’m curious, my mom’s name was Renee, sometimes Rene with an accent.....how do you pronounce your name?
Rene: It’s pronounced Ree Knee. It’s confusing because it’s the male version of Renee. People always want to stick an extra e on me! :)

Poets United: Including me! I have been creeping about your blog, and have come across some hilarious gems of yours. You have a wicked sense of humor. I so love that about you!

Sunday, February 19, 2012

The Poetry Pantry Is Now Open! - # 88

Made you nervous huh?

The Poetry Pantry
2nd Chance Poems or 1st time shares

Anything goes!! All Poems, all Poets, All Week!!

Do you have a poem you would like to share? Something that you just felt inspired to write and want others to read. Perhaps it’s a poem that didn’t get as much exposure on your blog as you would have liked. Maybe it’s a poem that you wrote a long time ago that you would like people to revisit. That’s what this section of Poets United is for.

Each Sunday we start a new post with a New Mr. Linky for you. This is so that you can post a link to anything you want us to read, anything at all related to poetry or prose found on your own poetry blogs. It will remain open all week so that you can show us your writings and thoughts. You can post links weekly should you chose to do so. What poetry you put here is up to you so don't be afraid to share with us!!


There 3 simple rules:

1. Don’t link to more than 3 poems per week.

2. Please visit some of the other poems linked here when you link to yours.

3. Leave a comment after you have posted
your link.

Friday, February 17, 2012

I Wish I'd Written This


The Truth About Unicorns
by Doris Brett

In the town they talked about unicorns,
and what young girls should know
of them (white as bone and hard with their beauty).
How they’d come down (cloud but not cloud), streaming,
milk from the mountains,
undammed, maddening
horses, the image of silver, quick-shimmered
slickering snorters where we’d lie (night living
and behind our eyes), unskinned by sleep
into nights when each of us dreamed of riding on unicorn,
forward for the hollow, that one particular spot where you fit,
sit over muscles bunching like bananas, big
and splitting the seams of your senses . . .


Doris Brett is a psychologist, bread maker and prose author as well as a poet. Her publisher, Random House, says:

Doris Brett resides in Melbourne with her husband and daughter. She is a clinical psychologist as well as a multi-award winning author and poet. She has been published in America, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Poland and Russia. She has been awarded numerous literary awards for her poetry, including the Queensland Premier's Poetry Award (1994). IN THE CONSTELLATION OF THE CRAB, a collection of poems that arose out of her experience with ovarian cancer was short-listed for the National Book Council Poetry Prize.

I became acquainted with Doris in the early days of the Poets Union of Australia. We used to encounter each other at the same poetry festivals and performances. I invited her to address one of my writers’ classes on the subject of dreams and their relation to poetry — a subject in which, as a psychologist, she had a special interest and expertise — and she held us spellbound.

She also developed ‘Annie Stories’ to help children overcome fears and problems.

Her powerful memoir of her experience with ovarian cancer, Eating the Underworld, is reviewed in detail here, where it is also available for purchase. You can find more of her books at Amazon, and at Random House.  

The Truth About Unicorns is one of her earliest published poems and still one of the best loved.



Poems and photos used in ‘I Wish I’d Written This’ remain the property of the copyright holders (usually their authors).

Thursday, February 16, 2012

The Thursday Think Tank #84-Home




Hello, it is me, Ella. For now, I am giving Robb a helping hand.  When I think of home, the quote  "Home is where the heart is." by~Pliny The Elder, comes to mind.  Being a military spouse, I have moved a lot. This quote is more fitting of my lifestyle, "Home is where you hang your hat." It is an English proverb.

What images arrive when you think of "Home"?  Is it your childhood home, walls that protect your heart?  Maybe it is your first apartment, when you were on your own, or perhaps the first home you bought, or the one you are in now?!   Home can mean many things. Pen a poem about your home. We can't wait to visit you and see home through your eyes.



If you have a prompt idea (even a Music or Film inspired one) that you would like to suggest or share with us please send it to poetsunited@ymail.com . We keep a folder set aside with all your suggestions and just might use it one day.

There 3 simple rules:

1. Don’t link to more than 3 poems per week.

2. Please visit some of the other poems linked here when you link to yours.

3. Leave a comment after you have posted your link.



Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Life of a Poet - John Greenwood

Kids, you are going to enjoy this week’s interview so much! For a long time I have been enjoying Raining Iguanas, for the name, the cool lizards on-site, and the talent of its creator, John Greenwood.


Not only is John an interesting writer, he is a fantastic photographer. With my limited technical abilities (to put it mildly), I am going to attempt to insert some of his slide shows and youtube clips in this interview, so you can enjoy his marvellous shots of  the very scenic  Saratoga Springs, New York, where John was born and raised, and has, as he says, enjoyed a half century of life.  Lean back, put your mind in Dreamy Mode and come along for the ride. We’re coming up to the main intersection, and I see John waiting for us on the corner. He’s going to show us around his home town.



Poets United: John, in lurking around your site, while dodging the iguanas, I came across the BEAUTIFUL slide show: Saratoga Winter Morning. You have an artist’s eye. And, apparently, a very high quality lens!

Blog Roll Add Page



Want to add your blog to our blog roll?  It is really simple. Use the Mr. Lynky tool below and every week we will run through and add any new additions to it.



Sunday, February 12, 2012

The Poetry Pantry Is Now Open! - # 87


The Poetry Pantry
2nd Chance Poems or 1st time shares

Anything goes!! All Poems, all Poets, All Week!!

Do you have a poem you would like to share? Something that you just felt inspired to write and want others to read. Perhaps it’s a poem that didn’t get as much exposure on your blog as you would have liked. Maybe it’s a poem that you wrote a long time ago that you would like people to revisit. That’s what this section of Poets United is for.

Each Sunday we start a new post with a New Mr. Linky for you. This is so that you can post a link to anything you want us to read, anything at all related to poetry or prose found on your own poetry blogs. It will remain open all week so that you can show us your writings and thoughts. You can post links weekly should you chose to do so. What poetry you put here is up to you so don't be afraid to share with us!!


There 3 simple rules:

1. Don’t link to more than 3 poems per week.

2. Please visit some of the other poems linked here when you link to yours.

3. Leave a comment after you have posted
your link.

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Classic Poetry - "A Ditty" by Sir Philip Sidney



Philip Sidney (1554-1586)

A DITTY

My true-love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange one to the other given:
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,
There never was a better bargain driven:
My true-love hath my heart, and I have his.

His heart in me keeps him and me in one,
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides:
He loves my heart, for once it was his own,
I cherish his because in me it bides:
My true-love hath my heart, and I have his.

Three times betrothed, but married only once and briefly, Philip Sidney was luckier in writing than in love, creating dozens of sonnets and love songs. An ardent protestant and privileged courtier to Queen Elizabeth I, he was released from her service after publicly opposing her marriage to the Catholic French Duke of Anjou. Seems his lack of "love-luck" wasn't limited to his own!

Friday, February 10, 2012

I Wish I'd Written This


From Wolvi Mountain
by Peter Doyle

The mountain is an island
in a sea of morning mist.

Alone in the universe;
the only sound my footsteps
and my breaths hanging in air.

From Wolvi Mountain walking
early to the bean fields
to bend my back
and fill my bags
as many as I can.

Slowly, slowly,
stand up straight again…

A breed apart
those harvest workers
Old Keith, Edna and the rest
travellers, misfits, rogues and just plain mad
or pensioners earning
a “little something” on the side.

I am there with them again
working through the heat and rain
sitting down for smoko
in the field
beneath a tree
kicking at the cane toads
that hop onto my bare feet.

Living hard, but free.

No desk or office walls
no factory sirens
no metaphorical machine to feed
just the tractor going by
hauling beans up to the shed.

Some would say cheap labour
making the farmer rich.

I know who is richer for it.


I met Peter Doyle online on MySpace in the days when that was still a great place to be. Nowadays we connect on facebook, where we are in various poetry groups and Peter also posts his poems in his Notes. So far we haven't met in person, though he knows my area and has a standing invitation to call in for a cuppa if he's ever up this way.

Peter’s an unashamedly devout Christian who believes in bearing witness, and I’m an ‘out of the broom closet’ Pagan, yet we’re good mates with some similar points of view. For instance we both love the natural world, and we both have a deep appreciation of the good qualities to be found in human beings. As I was brought up in a Christian country, I have no trouble understanding his Biblical references. Even our ideas of God have some surprising similarities, despite the obvious fundamental differences. 

I think he’s a wonderful poet. Naturally those of his poems I most wish I’d written tend to be more the nature poems and humanist ones — though I am sure he would say that they too bear witness to the the greatness of God, and I have no argument with that. In the piece I've chosen here, I relish his message about the satisfaction of honest toil.

He says, ‘I am essentially message driven, and happy for the art to suffer for the sake of the message, hence I get a bit preachy at times.’ His preaching is very palatable though, and the art doesn’t seem to suffer much — certainly not in this poem!

Unfortunately he is only online at facebook and MySpace. (He continues to post on MySpace for those of his readers who are still there). He doesn’t yet have any books out, either. He says any Aussies who happen to live at Port Macquarie can hear him at times on Rhema Radio, but that’s not much good to the rest of us. It might be worth joining facebook, folks! If you’re there already, his url is https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001913136560 — and do look out for another of my favourites, 'Here I am' posted on Saturday 28 January, an overtly Christian poem from an unusual point of view.

(Apologies if this was late, people — I get mixed up about the time difference, sometimes.)



Poems and photos used in ‘I Wish I’d Written This’ remain the property of the copyright holders (usually their authors).

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Life of a Poet - Daydreamer Too

Kids, I’ve always said that peoples’ real life stories are more interesting – and often more unbelievable – than anything a writer can create in fiction. And have I ever got a story for you today. We are sitting down this day with Bren, who writes as Daydreamer Too at Soul Speak.  She has a most interesting life story, and a love story besides. I could have written a whole book. I didn’t want it to end.  Pour yourself a cup of tea. (What is that saying? One cup of tea shared is with an acquaintance, two cups of tea, one becomes an honoured guest, and with the third cup, one is family.) Come sit by me, kids. This is a three-cupper.
Poets United: Bren, it is lovely of you to allow us a peek into your life. Shall we start at the beginning? Where were you born and raised?
Brighton-image from google

Bren: I was born in Brighton, which is in Sussex, England, but have seen a lot of England, Scotland and Wales.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Vice/Versa - Midnight Snack Weekly Prompt #6

Every Tuesday you will find either Vice/Versa or Midnight Snack (they will alternate)posted here at 12:01 a.m.  For “Vice/Versa” two random words will be posted along with their polar opposites (Otherwise known as antonyms). Write something using all four words. It can be any form of writing; poetry, prose, short stories or whatever else. For “Midnight Snack” a simple photo prompt is posted.  We will guide you in no direction. It is just you and the photo.  If it inspires you, then write about it, if it doesn't then go back to bed.

A link tool will be posted at the same exact moment the post is published. Post your related scribbling and leave a comment. Be sure to visit the others who post here and see how creative others can be.

This week it is time for:
Midnight Snack


A simple photo prompt for insomniacs, early birds and the rest of you.
You can post at anytime its just the night owls and early birds get the first crack at it.




Unique by selavie at deviantART

   Look...                  
          Think...          
Write...       
          Post...   

               Simple Rules
  • Post anytime its just the night owls who get first crack
  • Make sure to visit other late night scribes.
  • Leave us a comment about the photo before you finally nod off.
  • Please post no more than 3 poems per prompt.

Sunday, February 5, 2012

The Poetry Pantry Is Now Open! - # 86


The Poetry Pantry
2nd Chance Poems or 1st time shares

Anything goes!! All Poems, all Poets, All Week!!

Do you have a poem you would like to share? Something that you just felt inspired to write and want others to read. Perhaps it’s a poem that didn’t get as much exposure on your blog as you would have liked. Maybe it’s a poem that you wrote a long time ago that you would like people to revisit. That’s what this section of Poets United is for.

Each Sunday we start a new post with a New Mr. Linky for you. This is so that you can post a link to anything you want us to read, anything at all related to poetry or prose found on your own poetry blogs. It will remain open all week so that you can show us your writings and thoughts. You can post links weekly should you chose to do so. What poetry you put here is up to you so don't be afraid to share with us!!


There 3 simple rules:

1. Don’t link to more than 3 poems per week.

2. Please visit some of the other poems linked here when you link to yours.

3. Leave a comment after you have posted
your link.

Friday, February 3, 2012

I Wish I'd Written This

First Harvest, 2012
by Helen Patrice

The seed falls down, in,
there is dark and silence.
The cold comes fast,
saying sleep.
The earth turns,
the soil warms.
Roots branch their way towards the heart,
shoots to the heat.
The grain grows,
stretching upwards,
falls, is taken.
Bellies and pantries full,
cattle fat.
Seeds saved, sorted, sown.
The seed falls down, in.

There are very few poems of Melbourne poet Helen Patrice’s that I would not be delighted to have written! This is her latest, and I choose it in particular because it is a celebration of Lughnasad (aka Lammas) the festival of ‘first harvest’, which is 1st February in the Southern Hemisphere. I too like to celebrate the cycle of the seasons, known as the Wheel of the Year, and writing poems is one good way of doing so.

We have been close friends for many years, which began through our mutual love of poetry and cats. She wrote me my first — and indeed only — fan letter, for a cat poem I’d had published. Thrilled, I replied. A few weeks later we encountered each other at a writers’ workshop. That was 20-odd years ago, during which we have found many other things in common. It seems odd now to think that for most of those years we’ve lived in different States, but we built a solid basis for the friendship before I moved away.

Like me, Helen is a Tarot reader and psychic, a Reiki Master, a Pagan witch, and of course a poet. Unlike me, she is also a yoga teacher, a belly dance teacher and a novelist, and for a long time she was a single Mum to two profoundly deaf children, one of whom is also autistic. (Her daughter is now 22 and her son 19, and both now have cochlear implants.) 

In recent years she has travelled widely, including two visits to Boskoppie, South Africa, in 2010 to work with big cats — another thing I wouldn’t dream of attempting. I am happy to love them from a distance! Speaking of loving from a distance — or not — while she was there the second time, her Canadian fiancé (whom she met on her first overseas trip, to America in 2008) impulsively flew out there to marry her somewhat earlier than originally planned. Her daughter joined them from Melbourne to be Maid of Honour. He then put forward his migration to Australia by a few months. Helen is now assembling a chapbook with the working title My African Wedding.

You can find out even more about Helen and her writing in a writer’s interview I did with her at my SnakyPoet blog. You can also check out her website. It’s soon to be updated, she tells me, but most of the material there is still relevant. Among other things there, such as her light-hearted personal philosophy, you will find more wonderful poems. (I’ve just re-read them all with undiminished pleasure. If it wasn’t already available there, I might well have chosen Fat White Woman Whom Nobody Loves for this post.)

If you're on facbook, you might like to check out her 'Author' fan page.

She’s had stories and articles published in various magazines, and you can find details, including ordering details, of her recent verse novel, A Woman of Mars — which I love and adore — here. It is also available on eBay at present, and you’ll find a thoughtful review here.

Though, like me, she aims for clarity and accessibility in her poetry, Helen is a more metaphorical poet than I am. Because the piece above is short, you can have two for the price of one today. The following example is another recent poem which instantly became a favourite of mine.

On and off the leash

Sometimes I have the dragon on a leash
And we go walkies.
Sometimes I am in the belly,
Clinging to the oesophagus to avoid the acid.
Mostly I am in the field, holding him off
With a toothpick.

(This could be a metaphor for all sorts of things — whatever you want it to be — but a careful reading of her answers in my above-mentioned interview will reveal what Helen herself had in mind.)


Helen's African wedding. Helen left, Bill (Groom) centre, daughter Susie (Maid of Honour) right.


Poems and photos used in ‘I Wish I’d Written This’ remain the property of the copyright holders (usually their authors).

Thursday, February 2, 2012

The Thursday Think Tank # 83 - YES

January is behind us,as we move into the month of sentiment n' romance and yes, the Super Bowl, lol.
It is time for our photo prompt #83 Yes.  What have you chose to say Yes to?!  Is it love, something for yourself, perhaps a new health kick or maybe you are going to the Super Bowl.  Yes!
I would love for you to pen a poem in regards to something you have chosen to say "yes" to.  It can be anything.   I can't wait to read,  your poems on YES!

Our Monthly "Reflection" photo prompt is provided to us by Ella Wilson. We would like to thank Ella for her inspiring photos and for helping us out here at Poets United. If you would like to know more about Ella, see her other photos or read her poetry please visit the blog below:
Ella's Edge

If you have a prompt idea (even a Music or Film inspired one) that you would like to suggest or share with us please send it to poetsunited@ymail.com . We keep a folder set aside with all your suggestions and just might use it one day.


There 3 simple rules:

1. Don’t link to more than 3 poems per week.

2. Please visit some of the other poems linked here when you link to yours.

3. Leave a comment after you have posted your link.


Wednesday, February 1, 2012

The Life of a Poet - Heaven

Kids, this week if you are deep in winter grays, and are longing for tropical isles.......you're out of luck. (Just kidding!) This week we are meeting with Heaven, who can be found at Sweet Lust, (a juxtaposition that makes me lose focus, temporarily, as I wonder if the angels are doing more than singing hymns up there!) 

Heaven lives in eastern Canada, which is very cold right now. But as we got deeper into our conversation, Heaven revealed she originally hails from tropical climes..........she must especially be missing warmth, sunshine and  palm trees these days. Almost like leaving Heaven behind, to move to the land of ice and snow! But we are happy that she did, and that we are privileged to read her poetry. Hang in there, kids, as once we get the frozen north out of the way, it will be palm trees and papayas all the way. If you'd like to get in the mood, pour some pineapple juice, and if you add a little warmer-upper to the glass, we'll be none the wiser!


Poets United: Heaven, so nice to meet you. I have always been drawn by your name. You cant find a more positive name than "Heaven"! As a fellow Canadian, I am curious what part of Canada  you live in.


Heaven: I live in a big city adjacent to Toronto City, Ontario for the last 8 years. 
   
Poets United: Would you like to tell us a bit about your life?