(Actually pretty small)(Great..I'm just saying, in my opinion)
I hosted a small poetry and short story reading last weekend.
I only invited a small number of poets, writers and poetry fans due to my own nervousness and because of my small house.
My parents were invited and as always, brought their A game.
This blog post is mostly to record the readings for my own posterity or any attendee that could not hear.
We started the salon with a reading of Jack Helbig's play "Mildly Depressed Man". Many of the good natured guests were hired on the spot by my dad to play roles from his good friends peice.
Giamila Fantuzzi read a poem in Italian by Gabriele D'annunzio entitled "The rain in the pinewood"
http://www.lifeinabruzzo.com/the-rain-in-the-pinewood-la-pioggia-nel-pineto/
She gave us the English translation to read while she read.
My mom told a story about an old friend Irene Keller and then read a few of her poems. Here is one:
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Cynthia Gessele shared her writing, Entitled Tory's Dilemma
Jean Sotos read a few of her poems Www.lmtpoet.blogspot.com
Grace Quinn read from her blog
Barbara Ballinger read 3 Hopkins poems
Inversnaid http://www.bartleby.com/122/33.html
The Windhover http://www.bartleby.com/122/12.html
and As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame. http://www.bartleby.com/122/34.html
Linda Stolz read a memoir
John Platt read some of his own poems:
1970
no curses,
no spit
or baby-killer cries;
and no jobs either. ….
Mundane tragedy
and war is all.
Kill-zone shadows spreading
to bleak apartments.
Welcome back boys.
BYOB …. a quart jar
of Black Beauties :
“... war trophy,” he laughed.
He cradled it the whole time.
Nobody knew anybody,
not really
not anymore.
Music too loud --- strange; words
too empty. Awkward. all
split, and scattered early.
John Platt
2009
The Hair:
Mini-serious candied foxcox comb over
ghost-spray weave of playboy prick past
--- the
crown at last!
The Eyes:
Squint blue windows
to the
sole consumer
of whys
and wherefores
weighed
in glaring error
scorn-constricted stares
the
mirror's mirror. It shows.
The Lips:
Smoochie sucky spitting self kissing
repulsed
plosive punch line perseverators
pooh-poohing
prehensile prevaricators.
Sly
smilers.
The Hands:
-Index
(sometimes middle) fingers touched to thumbs.
Remaining
fingers held like curtains beside the face.
(This
is NOT the “OK” sign)
but:
“Here's a special treat I
offer
to a captive pet.
Beg
for it.”
-
Palms flat forward wrists bent back
arms
extended: “STOP !
NO
ENTRY BEYOND THIS
WALL
(facade).”
-
Index fingers pointing up
-or
at you - hands closed tight: “Wait !
Just
Be Quiet (and maybe
I'll
give you a treat).”
-
thumbs up from closed fists
aimed
backward.
(
This is also NOT an “OK” sign) ---
but:
“ME. ME. ME.
All
attention
belongs
to Me.”
The
Deal: The slogan the sell the
slur repeat
invert
subvert beat resistance beat
beat
competition pound table slam
door
bang babe the deal repeat
until
submission. Sale.
Then
cheat.
Repeat.
The
Skin: Thin: a thing
made
out of lampshades.
John
Platt 2016
Linda Platt's blog is here http://lindiart2.blogspot.com/http://lindiart2.blogspot.com/
I read a poem which is more of an explanation of my last several years than anything else.
Rhyme of an ancient Marrier
When I am caught in the snarl of a net
My m.o. is to take on a rescue pet
It all started with my creation, a fish pond
instead of facing my marriage was a flawed bond
the next year brought results of infertile
but wouldn't the pond be better with a turtle
another hard year, anxiety depression, fog
I looked across facebook lines and fell for a dog
The marriage got worse we resorted to all but kickin
then we agreed, we would like to raise chicken
relationship over, I was in deep muck
first thing I did was babysit a duck
Now I'm banned from every pet shop
but I love critters and I'm not going to stop.
I also read "Envy of Other peoples poems" By Robert Hass
http://www.poemsbypost.com/?p=308
