Category Archives: Poetry

Happy Birthday, William Shakespeare!

Happy 453rd Birthday to the Bard, who has given our language so much. A few of my favorites:

“We are such stuff as dreams are made on…” – The Tempest

“Though this be madness, yet there’s method in’t…” – Hamlet

“Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more…” – Henry V

Let us all celebrate the day of William Shakespeare’s birth with my favorite sonnet:

Sonnet 29

“When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess’d,
Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remember’d such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.”

– William Shakespeare

Tribute to An Author Who Inspires Me

Unknown-1Today a writing prompt at the Creative Bloomings blog inspired me, enough so that I wanted to share the results with book lovers who read my blog. The prompt was to write a poem in tribute to a writer who inspires me. I chose to write about Luis Alberto Urrea, the author of one of my favorite novels, The Hummingbird’s Daughter. If you haven’t read it yet, I highly recommend it. He has also written several other terrific works, and I’ve had a chance to hear him speak twice – another experience I recommend. He’s a fun oral storyteller, sure to move any audience to belly laughter or heartfelt tears. As I work on my own historical novel, I keep in mind his dedication to the true artistry it takes to reveal the inner heart of a story. Here are some of my feelings about this inspirational author and the masterpiece he created:

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A Balloon in My Car – Jolly Detritus from a Women’s Poetry Reading

I am not a poet. This is not humility, false or otherwise, nor is it an excuse, but a simple fact. Yet I appreciate poetry, and every now and then I feel compelled to write a poem, though I have no real idea how. Yesterday I went to a gathering of poets at the Denver Woman’s Press Club and listened to several club members and audience members share their lyrical thoughts. Here’s what I took with me when I left:

A Balloon in My Car

Where are the nametags and the tea and the ice?
I don’t know poetry, but I know how to reach and boil and tumble the cubes.
After the reading, a balloon in my car nods in approval.

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