Poetry Picnic Week 36 : Online Media Sources Poetry In Any Forms

Have a great time writing whatever you chose to do with the theme....signing off Uma Anandane from Inside My Poem Book and Perpetual Mind .

Happy 19th Birthday from Home, Dear Shengish Woo! by Aya Wilson

 

When it comes to one’s birthday or anniversary,
It’s simply natural to think of home
where one shares quality time with friends,
Sheng has made numerous NEW friends
at Northwestern University, Joe, Terence Tao,
Gordon Ramsay, and Lawrence Lessig are some of
those, JD Henneberry and Staffordray stayed in touch.
Happy Birthday from Home, Sheng!

A Curse Against Elegies by Anne Sexton

Oh, love, why do we argue like this?
I am tired of all your pious talk.
Also, I am tired of all the dead.
They refuse to listen,
so leave them alone.
Take your foot out of the graveyard,
they are busy being dead.

Everyone was always to blame:
the last empty fifth of booze,
the rusty nails and chicken feathers
that stuck in the mud on the back doorstep,
the worms that lived under the cat's ear
and the thin-lipped preacher
who refused to call
except once on a flea-ridden day
when he came scuffing in through the yard
looking for a scapegoat.
I hid in the kitchen under the ragbag.

I refuse to remember the dead.
And the dead are bored with the whole thing.
But you - you go ahead,
go on, go on back down
into the graveyard,
lie down where you think their faces are;
talk back to your old bad dreams.

Botanic Garden by Dr. Erasmus Darwin

(Poetry form on Vegetable Lamb of Tartary )

E'en round the Pole the flames of love aspire,
And icy bosoms feel the secret fire,
Cradled in snow, and fanned by Arctic air,
Shines, gentle borametz, thy golden hair
Rooted in earth, each cloven foot descends,
And round and round her flexile neck she bends,
Crops the grey coral moss, and hoary thyme,
Or laps with rosy tongue the melting rime;
Eyes with mute tenderness her distant dam,
And seems to bleat - a vegetable lamb

A Drinking Song   by W. B. Yeats

Wine comes in at the mouth  

And love comes in at the eye;  

That’s all we shall know for truth  

Before we grow old and die.  

I lift the glass to my mouth,

I look at you, and I sigh.

 Theme for May: Jingle Poetry Rally for Worldwide Piece Month

JiPoRa4WoPeMo Rocks  ;)

Theme for This Week 36?

Week 36 Theme: Let's read the following online media sources, and write a poem or a prose on topic they are talking about and appear interesting to you...have fun!

The New York Times: http://www.nytimes.com/

Italy News: http://www.topix.com/world/italy

NBC Dallas Fort Worth News: http://www.nbcdfw.com/

Chicago Tribune: http://www.chicagotribune.com/

Boston.com: http://www.boston.com/

The Washington Post: http://www.washingtonpost.com/

Bangor Daily News: http://bangordailynews.com/

Los Angles Times: http://www.latimes.com/

Maryland News: The Baltimore Sun: http://www.baltimoresun.com/

The Wall Street Journal: http://online.wsj.com/home-page

BBC News: http://www.bbc.co.uk/

The News Virginia: http://www2.newsvirginian.com/news/

Time: http://www.time.com/time/

Business Week: http://www.businessweek.com/

Good Morning, America Yahoo News: http://gma.yahoo.com/

Stillwater News Press: http://www.stwnewspress.com/

The Daily O’Collegian: http://www.ocolly.com/

We would like to read your poems based on what you read from online media sources,  not restricted to what we provide, but from any media of anywhere of the world, have fun....

Theme for Next Week?

 Peace in Love, Peace in Families, Peace among Friends, and Peace around the world...

Image Credit: Google.com....

Poetry Picnic Week 35: " The Month of May, Mother's Love, Spring Storms, Soil, Air..."

Another Clerihew makes it 30 by Masonry Design

Architect Christopher Wren
redesigned London when
it took a forceful maverick
from ashes hence London brick.

A Manifesto For Motherhood by Bentlily

Don’t worry that he refuses to crawl
or eat anything but bananas and bread

don’t worry about whether you read the right book
or got any of it
on video

don’t worry about his kindergarten teacher
or if he’ll always be shy

love him with vigor
love yourself just as much

don’t let anxiety
wrench your spirit shut

he chose you

your job is to be seen
so dig for your truth
and show it to him
tender and unpolished

don’t use the phrase book of anyone else

call him a tuba rumple
make up dance routines
have baths at noon

be late sometimes
just the two of you
because the sky was orange and silk
and the wind was just right
for kites.

Two Clerihews by The Man With the Blue Guitar

President Barack Obama . . .
Bet you thought I would rhyme with yo mama,
But there's also hosanna and flora or fauna,
There are more rhymes with Romney — don't wanna.

Governor Willard "Mitt" Romney
Would give all of us imsomni—
If Mitt became President or even just veep,
None of us would ever get any sleep.

At the Bakery (No. 2) by Bubblegum Haiku

the hour before dawn
kneading soft dough with rough hands
morning star above

I DON'T KNOW WHERE I'M GOING WITH THIS

by The Booth of Our Conniving


I don't know where I'm going with this
Umbrella I'm holding to keep the rain
From making an ass out of you and me,
But I have a vague feeling feelings
Will be involved, special ones for the dark
Side of a doughnut or the sigh of a wren.
It's so unlike me, though, to venture far
Without securing first a slew of notes
From emotive conductors I've had
The pleasure of being deafened by.
Perhaps it's time for me to enlist
In the army of delicate wackos who
Seem so full of themselves and life
And who constitute the human race.
Hear them singing their sweetness to
The disconsolate cumulonimbi?
I want that job and to find myself
Finishing the touches I started with you.

Methods of Submissions:

Share your work using InLinkz below, and leave a comment in case it is your first time!  It would be super great if you could link back to us on your blog.

Weekly poetry collection starts on Sunday, at 8pm, and will stay open until Sunday, 8pm, 7 days for you to share your talent with us!

 Please Follow Us on Twitter via Link Below  (700 or more Followers So Far)

https://twitter.com/#!/JinglePoetry

Theme for This Week 35:

" The Month of May, Mother's Love, Spring Storms, Soil, Air..."

Dig and write, you may be amazed at how creative you are, by simply trying without worrying about the outcome or feedback…best, hope to see you in the party, chicks…

Theme for Next Week?

Week 36 Theme: Next week, Let's read the following online media sources, and write a poem or a prose on topic they are talking about and appear interesting to you...have fun!

The New York Times: http://www.nytimes.com/

Italy News: http://www.topix.com/world/italy

NBC Dallas Fort Worth News: http://www.nbcdfw.com/

Chicago Tribune: http://www.chicagotribune.com/

Boston.com: http://www.boston.com/

The Washington Post: http://www.washingtonpost.com/

Bangor Daily News: http://bangordailynews.com/

Los Angles Times: http://www.latimes.com/

Maryland News: The Baltimore Sun: http://www.baltimoresun.com/

The Wall Street Journal: http://online.wsj.com/home-page

BBC News: http://www.bbc.co.uk/

The News Virginia: http://www2.newsvirginian.com/news/

Time: http://www.time.com/time/

Business Week: http://www.businessweek.com/

Good Morning, America Yahoo News: http://gma.yahoo.com/

Stillwater News Press: http://www.stwnewspress.com/

The Daily O’Collegian: http://www.ocolly.com/

 Image Credit: Google.com ... 

Happy Poetry Picnic
and Happy Mother's Day to Positive Mothers!
Take Good Care...

xoxox

Week 28 Theme: Boating, Water, Mountains, and Birthday Parties

 

Welcome to Jingle Poetry @ Olive Garden Poetry Picnic Week 28, 

 

The theme for this week is quite intriguing, let your muses drive you and fill your quill. I am standing in for Taylor this week, I am Chimnese.

Happy Birthday From Eeyore

Sigh.
So once again it’s your birthday,
You’ve lived another year.
Hooray.
These birthday things seem so contrived.
Are we celebrating you’ve survived?
Well,
I guess that’s something after all.
You could’ve tripped, and had a fall.
Come down hard, and smashed your head,
So no birthday, cuz you’d be dead.
But have a good one, since you’re here,
And if you survive,
Have an okay year.

Call of Mountans

by Akush Samant

Round your curls,
I hear the call.
Every turn of my life,
A call to be by your side....

Poetry Picnic Week 14: What I'm Thankful for in My Life

Welcome to Jingle Poetry at The Gooseberry Garden Poetry Picnic Week 14. We’ve enjoyed

your participation last week and look forward to reading this week’s entries.

This week, we will cover the idea of thankfulness and its many facets in one’s life. 

I, Kay Salady, welcome you to the 14th Poetry Picnic today!

I’ve chosen three poems centered on thankfulness as examples for you and certainly hope you’ll enjoy them as much as I have.  I look forward to reading your entries!

Ode to a Chestnut on the Ground by Pablo Neruda

From bristly foliage
you fell
complete, polished wood, gleaming mahogany,
as perfect
as a violin newly
born of the treetops,
that falling
offers its sealed-in gifts,
the hidden sweetness
that grew in secret
amid birds and leaves,
a model of form,
kin to wood and flour,
an oval instrument
that holds within it
intact delight, an edible rose.
In the heights you abandoned
the sea-urchin burr
that parted its spines
in the light of the chestnut tree;
through that slit
you glimpsed the world,
birds

bursting with syllables,
starry
dew
below,
the heads of boys
and girls,
grasses stirring restlessly,
smoke rising, rising.
You made your decision,
chestnut, and leaped to earth,
burnished and ready,
firm and smooth
as the small breasts
of the islands of America.
You fell,
you struck
the ground,
but
nothing happened,
the grass
still stirred, the old
chestnut sighed with the mouths
of a forest of trees,
a red leaf of autumn fell,
resolutely, the hours marched on
across the earth.
Because you are
only
a seed,
chestnut tree, autumn, earth,
water, heights, silence
prepared the germ,
the floury density,
the maternal eyelids
that buried will again
open toward the heights
the simple majesty of foliage,
the dark damp plan
of new roots,
the ancient but new dimensions
of another chestnut tree in the earth.

After Apple-Picking by Robert Frost

My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
the scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough
and held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
upon my way to sleep before it fell,
and I could tell
what form my dreaming was about to take.
Magnified apples appear and disappear,
Stem end and blossom end,
and every fleck of russet showing dear.
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
it keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.
And I keep hearing from the cellar bin
the rumbling sound
of load on load of apples coming in.
For I have had too much
of apple-picking: I am overtired
of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.
For all
That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap
as of no worth.
One can see what will trouble
this sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.
Were he not gone,
The woodchuck could say whether it's like his
Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,
Or just some human sleep.

On Fields O’er Which the Reaper’s Hand has Passed by Henry David Thoreau

On fields o’er which the reapers hand has pass’d

Lit by the harvest moon and autumn sun,

My thoughts like stubble floating in the wind

And of such fineness as October airs,

There after harvest could I glean my life

A richer harvest reaping without toil,

And weaving gorgeous fancies at my will

In subtler webs than finest summer haze.

Methods of Submission to Our Poetry Picnic:

Share your work using InLinkz below, and leave a comment in case it is your first time! It would be great if you could link back to us on your blog.

Weekly poetry collection starts on Sunday, at 2pm (CDT), and will stay open till Wednesday, 8pm (CDT), 78 hours for you to share your poetry with us.

Theme for Next Week:

For Week 15, we will have theme ”November, Winter, Change,and  Hope!”!

Jingle Poetry at The Gooseberry Garden  

Appreciates Your Continued Support, 
Please Feel FREE to share, encourage, and get inspired! Random poems are welcome too!

H-A-P-P-Y P-O-E-T-R-Y P-I-C-N-I-C!

Poetry Picnic Week 13: Childhood, Dreams, Books, Role Models

Welcome to Jingle Poetry at The Gooseberry Garden Poetry Picnic Week 13, we have loved your Puurfect and poetic participation last week.

This Week, we will handle cases on Childhood, Dreams, Books, and Role Models, which means that, you are going to dig deep,  study these terms, write about how they position, impact,  and add light to your life. 

Image Credit: projectgifted.com

Life in Verse and Morning welcome You to the 13th Poetry Picnic today! 

Next Week, we will have Kay Salady hosting poetry picnic week 14, GET E_X_I_C_I_T_E_D!

Please read some of the most talented, amazing poets from below and submit your own to share!  BIG SMILE!!! ;)

Through Rose Tinted 
By 
CC Champagne

A childhood memory through rose-tinted glasses,

is a dream I want to maintain.

The aroma of my grandmother's cinnamon buns,

I wish I was there again.

The softness of her loving embrace,

the ease of life at that age,

when the future is all unwritten,

and life is a blank, white page.

A childhood memory through rose-tinted glasses,

is a dream I want to maintain.

But in my mind, whatever my age,

I can revisit it all again.

Writers and Novelists

By

Umamaheswari Anandane

Birth :

Words flow through a hand

writings its own mind by a pen

A new page written every time

as a new day dawns.

I flow with every move

of that invisible fingers

Marriage:

Open the index that points to

the sweet twist in my chapter

Wherein I have asked you

to join me to unfold new pages

So that we can reproduce

a sequel in the coming days ahead.

Death:

Among the ups and downs ,

I had my best writings

to be reproduced into editions

for generations to come.

I still ...

I still live through them

So never repent

even if hear someone says that

My Chapters have been closed. 

Butterfly
by
Shashi

Look, there she is, there on the window pane

A new friend from the dreams last night

As she promised to teach me how to fly

In sunshine and in rain

She is bright and beautiful, pinker than my ma’s cheek

Her wings have so many colors

Like the rainbow I painted last summer, for Pa’s Birthday

Before he left for the war, to make money for us to eat

Tell me butterfly, how does one eat money?

How does one go to the war?

I don’t want Pa to go to the war; I don’t want any money to eat;

You know, whenever I hug him, I don’t feel hungry at all

Oh! Butterfly, why are you flying away - so far?

Out side, the day is still full of light; sure you can wait a little more?

Ma will be back soon, from her night shift, and will let you in

Don’t you see, I can not; I am in the bed, too sick to unlatch the window bar

Butterfly, my dear Butterfly, you have teach me how to fly

I promised Pa - a hug tonight, I know where he “wars” now;

Ma showed me the other night, when she cried

“There, Kalina, there he is, the Evening Star”

You know Butterfly; I love him so much,

Much more than I love Ma,

Really! You must teach me to fly, as I have to go now

You see, my Ma does not even smile much

________________

@Shashi Oct, 2010

 

To Each in Stardom is Born to be Forlorn
By 
A. B. Thomas

To be adorned in the robe of youth is to wear upon the sleeve,
One’s desires and wish of boundless achieve,
To strut upon the spot lit center of society’s stage,
Confident that though script-less the audience will engage,
A new star with an almost impish air of mischief,
Yet instead doesn't society pan and insist youth to humbly receive?
The unwritten tome of expectation placed in civilized cage,
To sit idly whilst it is whittled down to a pamphlet page by page,
Society provides the focus to be but a player of knowledgeable disbelieve,   
Whilst within deep for the improvise acted naught secretly grieve.

Clouds in The Attic

by

Shashi

As she walked ahead

In her enthusiastic little hop, skip and jump - steps

I fell behind, in my own thoughts; old and aging

Yet keeping pace with her fresh world

That turns in, with a burst of rainbow

On every turn, flying like a butterfly

Across her little universe of wonder

Now she stops; the deep forest

Climbing up the steep incline of the mountain

Has her attention; complete with one hand under her chin

And I know, she knows what to ask,

With a sweet little smile behind her knit wool gloved little hand

And stump me with her wide charmed eyes

“Why those clouds are leaving the mountain alone?

Do you think Grandpa, Peakoo* will be happy without them to play?

Do you think they are coming over to play with us?

Can you give your extra blanket to put them up, in the attic for the night?

Grandpa, it’s very cold now, you know, they will shiver

Before I could think an answer and say,

“Kalina, lets go now, it’s going to rain”

She has already moved on

Playing with the soft cold breeze, moving up from the valley

With her hands out stretched, running, almost flying

Like the autumn leaves, that joined in to play, in her wake

________________

@Shashi Oct, 2010

*Peakoo = She calls the mountain peak in her own world of friends.

November Birthday Celebrations:    

November 2, Tootsie: Tootsie 
November 3, Eric Alder: Eric 'Bubba' Alder 
  November 15th, Dakshima, Dakshi 
Square sunshine, November 23, Poetry24  

Methods of Submission to Our Poetry Picnic:

Share your work using InLinkz below, and leave a comment in case it is your first time! It would be great if you could link back to us on your blog.

Weekly poetry collection starts on Sunday, at 2pm (CDT), and will stay open till Wednesday, 8pm (CDT),  78 hours for you to share your poetry with us...

What About Next Week!!

For Week 14, we will have theme ”This is what I’m thankful in life!”, because it is the week to celebrate Thanksgiving Holiday, of course, Random poems are also welcome! What fun, that's next week!

Morning Appreciates Your Continued Support, Please Feel FREE to share, encourage, and get inspired! Random poems are welcome too!

 

H-A-P-P-Y P-O-E-T-R-Y P-I-C-N-I-C!

Image Credits: Google.com