GREENSBORO – Acclaimed poet, novelist, professor and photographer Ocean Vuong came to the Highland Center for the Arts Sunday afternoon and read a number of his poems as well as discussing his life and work, presented as the first of three talks of authors in the Back Roads Reading programs[Read More…]
Poetry
Budbill poetry read, performed, July 19
GREENSBORO – On Sunday, July 19, from 3 to 4 p.m., at the Highland Center for the Arts, Nadine Budbill, Jody Gladding, Abby Paige, William Parker and Mark S. Robers will perform of the late David Budbill’s poetry. The performance will weave together Budbill’s prose-like poems with his ancient Chinese-inspired poems.[Read More…]
Futurity
Numeral round to numeral round-&-round our sundial ants tug time.Tiny harnesses of light. At night at various variances the stars& moon hitch up the FourSnails of the Apocalypse, but you– for you, little jockey, I slide up & bucklethe two purple stirrups you’ll perchto break the gate & hurl out fluttering silks (o my[Read More…]
The Amazing Hardwick Area
Hardwick area, comprised of old-timers, some since birth, some recently finding its worth. This amazing area Is attracting people from all over, who are caring, sharing Who join right in – seeking opportunities to observe or even serve, those that have the nerve In an attempt in the community to[Read More…]
Erosion
Wind and wavesso in love with the Earththey can’t keepthemselves from returningto the shore Over and over –sand is bornscouring away the hoursof each day, eitherplanned or erratic No angle of reposecan hold backour wearing away. Erin Rosenthal, Woodbury This poem was written for the Verse-Village celebration of April Poetry[Read More…]
Verse-Village Poem
In this town that we call home,we are never, ever all alone. In times of joy, we celebrate,in times of sorrow, we congregate,to hug, to love, support and help. You’re never alone or by yourself. A familiar face, a happy place,they can be found on any day. If you’re feeling[Read More…]
Awakenings
This gentle depressionwas little more thana sag and slump untilthe torrentials of Aprilswelled this hollow intoa pond. Now, bulbousand gelatinous massesof shimmering silvereggs cling to submergedbranches. Tomorrow, a redeft will flame from thispool, orange shockinginto this tawny land. Tomorrow, a wood frogwill intone into evening,a cardinal croak, refillingour saturated world.[Read More…]
The Mountains Remember Me
(A love letter to Vermont, from a Hardwick girl holding still for a moment before the world pulls again.) My life has never followed a straight line. It bent. It wandered. Still, it brought me back. Not by accident. Vermont called me home. In the Northeast Kingdom, the land does[Read More…]
Colors
Looking out the windowon a sunny February day,the white snow in the yard blinds me.Eyes lift and I sink into the deep darknessOf the woods beyond. Then… pulled back by stripey, brown-winged birds at the feeder,I remember the red of the cardinalwho visits from time to time,and thrill at the yellow[Read More…]
Tumult and tenderness
SHELBURNE – I am finding tenderness amid the tumult in today’s world. Neighbors are helping neighbors. Federally defunded social profits are collaborating. Strangers in countries at war with each other are coming together to grieve and heal together. They occasionally make the news. This is a tender time of year[Read More…]
Poetry slam at Jeudevine
A Verse a Day
A verse a daykeeps the doctor at playwith patients who sufferPlay Deficit Disorder.Poems provoke reflectionAnd ward off infectionby the day’s newsand evening blues.No known negative side effects. Trish Passmore Ally, Greensboro This poem was written for the Verse-Village celebration of April Poetry Month.
