Women’s History Month & National Poetry Month
Women’s History Month
The public celebration of women’s history in this country began in 1978 as “Women’s History Week” in Sonoma County, California. The week including March 8, International Women’s Day, was selected. In 1981, Sen. Orrin Hatch (R-Utah) and Rep. Barbara Mikulski (D-Md.) co-sponsored a joint Congressional resolution proclaiming a national Women’s History Week. In 1987, Congress expanded the celebration to a month, and March was declared Women’s History Month.
Click here for more information on Women’s History Month!
April Is National Poetry Month!
What is National Poetry Month? National Poetry Month was established by the Academy of American Poets as a month-long, national celebration of poetry. The concept was to increase the attention paid-by individuals and the media—to the art of poetry, to living poets, to our poetic heritage, and to poetry books and magazines. In the end, we hoped to achieve an increase in the visibility, presence, and accessibility of poetry in our culture. National Poetry Month has been successful beyond all anticipation and has grown over the years into the largest literary celebration in the world.
Below is a poem that I am particularliy fond of…
The Leap by Larry Colker
We stood in groups of twos and threes
on the sidewalk outside the bar,
talking, smoking, watching traffic and each other,
one quiet old guy by himself looking at the moon,
when a quick motion caught our eyes
as the girl pounced on her boyfriend,
shimmied up his tall torso,
squeezed her legs around his waist,
clasped her arms around his neck,
pressed her face into his hair.
If I were a prophet, I’d say
a burst of light surrounded them
like a glory. Like revelation, like satori,
we were all converted on the spot:
for the rest of our lives we’d wait for such a rapture,
our bodies suddenly made heavy
with bone and flesh not our own.
I caught the old man looking, dumbstruck,
until he collected himself
and went back to staring at the stars.
At first the boyfriend took it like a puppy’s exuberance,
continued the conversation as though that leap,
still rebounding in our chests,
were nothing special. But his girl did not unlatch.
She tightened her arms and legs around him
until who knows what was let loose inside,
and he hugged her back, with a shy smile at us,
as if embarrassed by his riches.
“Surfer Dude’s” Poem Selection for April!
One of my favorites.
The Little Vagabond by William Blake
Dear mother, dear mother, the Church is cold;
But the Alehouse is healthy, and pleasant, and warm.
Besides, I can tell where I am used well;
Such usage in heaven will never do well.
But, if at the Church they would give us some ale,
And a pleasant fire our souls to regale,
We’d sing and we’d pray all the livelong day,
Nor ever once wish from the Church to stray.
Then the Parson might preach, and drink, and sing,
And we’d be as happy as birds in the spring;
And modest Dame Lurch, who is always at church,
Would not have bandy children, nor fasting, nor birch.
And God, like a father, rejoicing to see
His children as pleasant and happy as He,
Would have no more quarrel with the Devil or the barrel,
But kiss him, and give him both drink and apparel.
Why was April chosen for National Poetry Month?
With input from booksellers, librarians, poets, and teachers, the Academy chose a month during the school year so that schools and students could participate fully. February is Black History Month and March is Women’s History Month, so April seemed a logical choice. Also, there are many wonderful poetic references to April:
T. S. Eliot wrote, “April is the cruelest month.” It is our hope that National Poetry Month lessens that effect.
On a lighter note, Chaucer wrote:
Whan that April with his showres soote
The droughte of March hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veine in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flowr
Finally, Edna St. Vincent Millay asked, “To what purpose, April, do you return again?” For National Poetry Month, of course!
So, you did or did not like the poem Quag?
Thank you for your perseptiveness Steve! Did you like the poem?
Oops! My bad…”perceptiveness”
I/WE found the poem to be a great selection. We could see the girl’s, and then the boy’s actions. A grand poem describing the exuberance in youthful love. All of us, the Schizophrenic Reader, found it to be a wonderfully light hearted poem that reminded us all, (except one), why we love poetry.
One of my favorites.
The Little Vagabond by William Blake
Dear mother, dear mother, the Church is cold;
But the Alehouse is healthy, and pleasant, and warm.
Besides, I can tell where I am used well;
Such usage in heaven will never do well.
But, if at the Church they would give us some ale,
And a pleasant fire our souls to regale,
We’d sing and we’d pray all the livelong day,
Nor ever once wish from the Church to stray.
Then the Parson might preach, and drink, and sing,
And we’d be as happy as birds in the spring;
And modest Dame Lurch, who is always at church,
Would not have bandy children, nor fasting, nor birch.
And God, like a father, rejoicing to see
His children as pleasant and happy as He,
Would have no more quarrel with the Devil or the barrel,
But kiss him, and give him both drink and apparel.
Surfer Dude,
Okay - I can see you giving this as a “toast”!
We are having a Poetry Slam in April - looking forward to you reading this!
Surfer Dude,
WE (4 of us anyway) enjoyed the poem. However, WE will be careful to not stand too near you…lest you be suddenly struck by lightening! WE are looking for a poem now to list. Unfortunately…there is bitter disagreement on who our favorite poet and our poetry styles. We may come to blows over it.
WE ALL (the Schizophrenic Reader) love poetry, but of course, a broad range of it! WE actually agreed (sort of) on the following poem. (one of US inside the Schizophrenic Reader has a bruised ego…SHE wanted something by Edgar Allan Poe…but she was getting her way..NEVERMORE). This poem describes beautifully a healthy and deep love….and that it takes both partners to nurture it … or to destroy it. It hit us profoundly in our life and heart.
If You Forget Me - by Pablo Neruda
I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.
This is really a nice blog,i always come here and read the articles
Your blog is so different from us, very nice.