Poetry Reading

X
FOURTH ANNUAL BLOGGERS ( silent)
xxxxxx POETRY READING
X
X
THE FIRST NIGHT
X
by
X
BILLY COLLINS

X

"The worst thing about death is the first night".

x

Juan Ramon Jimenez

xx

Before I opened you, Jimenez,

it never occured to me that day and night

would continue to circle each other in the ring of death,

x

but now you have me wondering

if there will also be a sun and a moon

and will the dead gather to watch them rise and set

x

then repair, each soul alone,

to some ghastly equivalent of a bed.

Or will the first night be the only night,

x

a darkness for which we have no other name?

How feeble our vocabulary in the face of death.

How impossible to write it down.

x

This is where language will stop,

the horse we have ridden all our lives

rearing up at the edge of a dizzying cliff.

x

The word that was in the beginning

and the word that was made flesh-

those and all the other words will cease.

x

Even now, reading you on this trellised porch,

how can I describe a sun that will shine after death?

But it is enough to frighten me

x

into paying more attention to the world's day-moon,

to sunlight bright on water

or fragmented in a grove of trees

x

and to look more closely here at these small leaves,

these sentinal thorns,

whose employment it is to guard the rose.

x

x

xx

Pasta

RIGHT INTO

THE POT,

X

PASTA

MEETS IT'S

DESTINY.

X

I need this rescue tonight. Nothing else will do.

x

x

As the very salted water roils, the strands, just a

second ago straight as straws, start to fold into a

fated al dente perfection.

x

I am going to gently heat the Virgin Olive Oil, and stir

in a few cloves of garlic, smashed with a cleaver

against the marble board. I love softened garlic,

not fried to a crisp, so I baby it till it's done.

x

A few flakes of red pepper scattered atop the mix,

float like a school of very tiny goldfish.

Then the pasta is finished and poured into the colander.

x

Hurrying, I'll then toss it into the oil mix, heat for a sec,

grab the blue ironstone bowl, drop in the pasta, and

every lick of oil. Black pepper, ground again and again,

dots the entirety. Last, I'll use the grater to shave a

small handful of Parmegiano Reggiano.

x

Stir. Breathe in. Eat.

Happy!

BITING THE APPLE
X
I was certainly surprised to
hear on the local news today
that the Borough of Queens,
New York City, came in first
in a survey that places them
#1 in resident satisfaction.
x
Or as the reporter proclaimed,
Queens was the happiest
Borough of all five. I would have
thought that perhaps Manhattan, which
contains Park Avenue and Fifth Avenue,
might have won out. Which just goes to
show that money doesn't buy happiness.
x
Conducted by a Citizens Committee
for New Yorkers, 4400 people, a
reasonable amount to form a statistic
of 51%, said that they liked the friendliness
of their neighbors, the houses are nice, there's lots of
greenery, the largest diversity of cultures, many languages
(no hysteria here to make English the official language).
x
And 68% really like to join in for the betterment of
their neighborhoods.
x
I'm happy that this has seen the light of day. Maybe
there will be a shift in emphasis, and population,
away from Manhattan, to Queens, so that in the future
when we sing..."if you can make it there, you can make
it anywhere"...we will be singing about Queens, N.Y.
x
I have to admit that in recent years, the only times I've
visited Queens was on the way to or from the airport.
Either LAG, or JFK. Queens, in addition to being so
harmonious, is very well suited for take-offs and
landings.
x
In the future, as I drive through Queens, I will certainly
breathe deeply of it's benevolent air!

Mozart

JANUARY 27, 1756
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU... WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART
253 YEARS OLD TODAY
x
x
Albert Einstein:
"Mozart is the greatest composer of all...
the music is of such purity and beauty that one feels he merely
found it...that it has always existed as part of the inner beauty
of the universe waiting to be revealed".
x
x
From, "Two Ghosts",
poems,
an excerpt:

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
K 165/ PROOF

x
The Mezzo's voice fills the
recitative
and beckons us to plunge
into Mozart's Little Concerto.
Exultate, jubilate, a motet sung by sopranos,
was composed for the illustrious Rauzini,
the Castrato.......

Pomona

POMONA HAS BEEN LABLED OBSCURE,
YET SURVIVED ANTIQUITY AS THE ROMAN GODDESS
OF ORCHARDS AND FRUIT TREES.
X
It is said that she made it with the help of Vertumnus, God of the Changing Year, for he allowed the seasons to reach her orchard and ripen her fruit.

It's known that he fancied her,but disguised himself as an old hag so he could befriend her, gain her confidence.

Old ladies seemed more trustworthy than Gods.

They did this sort of thing in antiquity.

It worked out in the end.
x
x
Pomona did well in history. She can be found at the Louvre,
and outside the Plaza Hotel in New York City.
There she is in the works of Rubens and Rembrandt.

There are eight cities in the U.S. named Pomona and we have
Pomona College.
x
Also 32 Pomona, is an astoroid and
Papilio Pomona, a species of butterfly.
x
As William Holden said in "Sunset Boulevard"...."They'll love
it in Pomona".

x
And let's not forget Steve Miller singing,
"Really love your peaches,
wanna shake your tree".
x
x
x
She went in a kid, and came out a star!




Based on information by
David Allen

PANTOUM

Pantoum is a poetic form that first

appeared in the 15th Century,

in Malayan literature. It existed

as an oral form. The Western
version is a written poem made up

of stanzas of four lines that are
repeated in a pattern. It can be

any length the poet desires.

I found that I was very attracted to this form

when I discovered it several years ago.

After establishing the first four lines,

something starts to occur that seems

to be out of my hands. The poetry goes

to places that I never could have found

without the form. This force, form,

always surprises me.

The poem that follows is from my

book of poems, "Two Ghosts".

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

RECIPE

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Remember the taste of fresh bread

As you ready the bread for baking.

Combine water and salt, add the yeast

And stir till you inhale the life of the bread.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As you ready the dough for baking

Put in enough flour to stiffen the mother,

And stir till you inhale the life of the bread

As the dough leaves the sides of the bowl.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Put in enough flour to stiffen the mother,

Pinch a piece to melt on your tongue

As the dough leaves the sides of the bowl,

Kneed till it's smooth and elastic as a womb.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Pinch a piece to melt on your tongue

Spread the dough with soft butter and cover.

Kneed till it's smooth and elastic as a womb.

Let rise until doubled and press it once more.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Spread the dough with soft butter and cover.

Then fold the edges and turn upside down,

Let rise until doubled and press it once more.

Roll the dough tightly like a jelly roll.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Then fold the edges and turn upside down,

Place diagonally on a lightly greased sheet.

Roll the dough tightly like a jelly roll.

And with a sharp knife slash the top.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Place diagonally on a lightly greased sheet.

Brush with cold water again and again,

And with a sharp knife slash the top.

Reduce the heat in the oven as the bread bakes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Brush with cold water again and again,

Sprinkle with sesame or light poppy seeds.

Reduce the heat in the oven as the bread bakes.

Then tap the loaf till it sounds like a hollow door.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sprinkle with sesame or light poppy seeds.

Combine water and salt, add the yeast

Then tap the loaf till it sounds like a hollow door.

Remember the taste of fresh bread.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

c 2009 all rights reserveed

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

To order "Two Ghosts":

call 888-795-4274 ext.7876

www.xlibris.com www.amazon.com

www.bn.com www.borders.com

at bookstores

A New Day

I have so much to be grateful for.



For instance, if anyone out there remembers my post
way back when, at the beginning of January, "Ritual",
you'll find me in a pretty fair uproar about the
subject of cream cheese.


Not forcing you search it out, it's basically about my
breakfast: bagel and cream cheese, (although I did
have something called an "English " muffin yesterday).
Don't like to get into a rut!


Anyway, the problem had to do with the impossibility
of my opening the cream cheese package without doing
damage to myself, the kitchen, and the bagel.


Until this morning. I actually had a vision that this time
I would open the package (a problem that's followed me
ALL of my life) with little ado, spread the cream cheese,
pour the coffee and relax with Milo, the cat, in his favorite
chair.


The vision was miraculously fulfilled. I'm humbled. I will
allow myself to have larger dreams, for they may come true.
And Obama has been President for barely a day!

Mother and Child

BARACK OBAMA, 44TH PRESIDENT
OF THE UNITED STATES

THE MOTHER LOOKS AT THE CHILD,

PROTECTS HIM.

THE CHILD, BARACK,

LOOKS AT US,

DREAMS FORMING,

WITH YEARS TO GO.

TODAY HE GAVE A GIFT

x

TO HIS MOTHER,

THE DREAM OF HARMONY COME TRUE.

x

C 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Black Elk ( 1863-1950 )

from Beliefnet.com
Prayer of the Day

GREAT SPIRIT, YOU ARE THE LIFE OF THINGS

Grandfather, Great Spirit, once more behold me on earth

and lean to hear my feeble voice. You lived first, and you

are older than all need, older than all prayer. All things

belong to you- the two-legged, the four-legged, the wings

of the air, and all green things that live.

You have set the powers of the four quarters of the earth

to cross each other. You have made me cross the good

road and the road of difficulties, and where they cross,

the place is holy. Day in, day out, forevermore, you

are the life of things.

Black Elk

John Mortimer

JOHN MORTIMER, on the left,
with Leo McKern


April 21, 1923 - January 16, 2009

I'm so sorry to be posting obits one after

the other.

I fervantly hope that some of my favorite

people stay around for a long time.

That being said,I would like to quote from

The New York Times, on the occasion of

the death of John Mortimer, barrister

and writer, at the age of 85.

"Mr. Mortimer also found time to pursue

his lifelong interest in women,

write for newspapers and

keep up the garden

nurtured by his father..."

To be remembered always, as the creator of

Horace Rumpole.

And because he was enthralled

by Evelyn Waugh's book,

"Brideshead Revisited",

adapted it for television,

to my everlasting gratitude.

John Mortimer... straight to heaven!

acknowledgement: Associated Press for photograph