revdrejt1832

” Casey at the bat”

I was 39 when I saw my first baseball game! Growing up in Northern Ireland it was cricket not baseball which was played! Even to this day I still am learning the “intricacies” of baseball and still to this day I have never ever played a game. However, just yesterday joining three others for aContinue reading “” Casey at the bat””

Naming and Numbering the Horrors

This morning as I dug in the soil, clearing plants to make ready for a new flower bed, I was listening to the most recent New Yorker podcast Poetry. The podcast featured poet and translator Valzhyna Mort, from Minsk Belarus, who teaches at Cornell University. She translates between English, Belarusian, Russian, Ukrainian, and Polish. InContinue reading “Naming and Numbering the Horrors”

Café Gratitude

Recently, I was visiting Kansas City for a couple of days. When I drove past Café Gratitude I just had to stop and take a photo. It immediately reminded me of that lovely piece of prose in Mike McCormack’s novel Solar Bones – a piece I posted some three years ago. Then, and today, IContinue reading “Café Gratitude”

Words – “Cool it down.”

I haven’t thought much about “words” having a temperature, yet for sure we have reached a boiling point in the civil. social, and political discourse over these past days and months. Many are fearful of how dangerous words and speech have become and will become in the next few months, and beyond. The writer andContinue reading “Words – “Cool it down.””

“The winding path of words”

Today, I share two poems from the book of poems Insomnia by Linda Pastan. In the first poem Pastan likens the work of the poet to that of the work of farmers, forever hoeing and planting. The second poem touches on “writer’s block” and is a tribute to the poet William Stafford. A habit ofContinue reading ““The winding path of words””

The Hippopotamus and the Church!

T.S. Eliot’s love of cats soon became a collection of poems known as Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats (Possum was Eliot’s nickname given to him by friend Ezra Pound). This is his only book of light verse which would eventually be turned into the stage musical by Andrew Lloyd Weber which opened in LondonContinue reading “The Hippopotamus and the Church!”

Suddenly

We lie back to back. Curtains lift and fall, like the chest of someone sleeping. Wind moves the leaves of the box elder; they show their light undersides, turning all at once like a school of fish. Suddenly I understand that I am happy. For months this feeling has been coming closer, stopping for shortContinue reading “Suddenly”

“being too happy in thine happiness”

The poem Ode to a Nightingale by John Keats (1795-1821) is regarded by many as a classic. There are just too many great lines to count, it might be easier to number the not so good lines of the total of 80 that make up the poem. Keats writes from a drowsy numbness as ifContinue reading ““being too happy in thine happiness””

The Fish

Do you remember the first time you were served fish with the head still on. There it was, presented to you and the eye of the fish looking straight at you, inviting a conversation, or at least a brief “hello.” I often to turn to Billy Collins when I am looking for a lighter mood,Continue reading “The Fish”

Swifties

In a recent article in the WSJ, the writer Adam Kirsch reviews Taylor Swift’s new album, The Tortured Poets Department. Kirsch edits the WSJ Review, and is himself the author of four books of poetry. Dylan Thomas is the only poet referred to by name by Swift. Kirsch writes – In the title song, sheContinue reading “Swifties”