G.N.A. Publishing░N░e░w░ ░A░u░t░h░o░r░s░ discussion

Poems hold the key to ones soul...

List your favourite poems/ poets alphabetically to continue the game.

A- All the world's a stage, William Shakespeare

B- Blake, William

This is a lovely game Daisy. I hope it catches on.

C- Christmas Trees, Robert Frost
( Too early, but an all time favourite)
http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/...

D- a Dream within a Dream, Edgar Allan Poe
That's a lovely site you found there.

E- Emily Dickinson

F- Fire & Ice, Robert Frost

G- Goodnight, PB Shelley

H- Hope is the thing with feathers, Emily Dickinson

I- If, Rudyard Kipling

J- Jabberwocky, Lewis Carroll

K- Keats John

L- Leisure, WH.Davies

M- Maya Angelou

N- an ode to a Nightingale,John Keats

O- O dull cold northern sky, Robert Louis Stevenson
https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/o-dul...
( In honour of his birthday today. Great link Grasshopper. I use it myself quite often too.)

Ah! It is his birthday isn't it. Good to know.

P- Pablo Neruda

Here is a poem for the ensuing season:
https://catholicherald.co.uk/magazine...
https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/advent/

Q- Quo Vadis, John Bannister Tabb

More Poetry news:
https://www.theguardian.com/books/201...

R-R.L. Stevenson

Some more poetry news:
https://www.theguardian.com/books/201...

How to Be a Writer

A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
I wanted to say,
lock yourself in a room,
scream until you have
a poem and no voice.
Open your veins and bleed
until you know that your bones
are pure words and sorrow.
Act as if you slit your own throat
and all you can bleed
are your own regrets
and all of the darkness
you boxed up for inspiration.
Write your mom a letter,
tell her you're leaving
and you won't be back for awhile
Because being a writer is traveling
through all seven layers of Hell
and denying anything is wrong.
Forget loving yourself
when all you have is a pen and paper
fused to your wrist
and Jesus is tapping at your skull
saying turn back now.
Warn the neighbors that if they smell burning
It's just your soul
clawing at the front door trying to get in.
Learn how to be alone.
Learn how to lose everything you have
in order to feel release,
learn how to only feel deceased
from now on.
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
All I said was
don't

Ally Ann

Oh! Very strong sentiments indeed!

S-Shelley

T- T.S.Eliot

U- Ulysses https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ulyss...

V- Voltaire (Yes he wrote poems too)
https://www.poemhunter.com/voltaire/?m=0

Poetry news: https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandst...

Some more poetry news:
https://www.scotsman.com/news/politic...

Thanks GB
W- William Wordsworth

🤗 Enjoy

X- ( X is most difficult to find) skip?

Y- https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/yet-y...

Z- ( Skipped too. Posting a poem in lieu)
In honour of today's Solstice: https://www.theparisreview.org/poetry...

Here is a Christmas rhyme for all the members:

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄
The elves sat up all night
And baked the house outright
With walls of gingerbread
And bricks of almond flakes
These were turning
Into the most delicious bakes

Santa watched from afar
And then gave up
He had a sweet tooth
He had to be at par
Off he jumped from his favourite perch
Watching the snow globes & thrills such

Together they baked all night long
Occasionally breaking into a song
There goes the midnight gong
Mrs.Claus had no clue
She was feeling ever so blue
Where have all the elves disappeared?

Where is Santa? She even feared
She sang herself some elvish rhymes
And then remembered the happy times
Perhaps he is wrapping presents she thought
Maybe solitude is what he sought
She drifted on to slumber divine

But when she awoke
The sight was spectacular
A giant gingerbread house was at her door
Iced to the tips in white & pink
She quickly hid a tear
In a smile & a wink

Santa had done magic overnight
He and the elves
Had lit Northpole bright
She kissed the elves
On every cheek
Hugged them tight & sent them to sleep

Santa she said in delight
Look what happens
When you leave the snow globes one night
Santa has promised to do more good
Baking all the goodies & Christmas food
Mrs.Claus just smiled her eerie smile bright
🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅
©https://m.poemhunter.com/poem-amp/a-c...

Nice! The children are going to love this 😍 Thanks Catherine.

My pleasure🤗

Catherine wrote: "Here is a Christmas rhyme for all the members:

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄
The elves sat up all night
And baked the house outright
With walls of gingerbread
And bricks of almond flakes
These were turning
Int..."
OMG! You put me to shame. I haven't rhymed in a while. Perfect Christmas poem Catherine.

👍

I've just done my first newsletter: First Newsletter - December 2018 can be found here. Take a peek - special seasonal poem included.

https://frankprem.com/newsletters-arc...

Have sent the following poem to readers:

seasonal


every year
at about this time
rising out of a silent accord
one of the couple would go
to the cupboard under the stairs
where the old sports gear
boxes of toys
decorations and sundries
resided

a few objects moved ...
a little space made ...
until the box was found
snug
among the festive decorations

out it would come
to be dusted clean
and placed with care
and due respect
on the small table
in the lounge

with a little ceremonial flourish
they each
gathered close
as both participant
and spectator
as the lid
came off

a neatly folded
small package of fur
was carefully removed
and straightened

a button located
and activated
to trigger self-inflation

it made a small
pop
when it was done
and the sound of air moving
faded
then ceased

all that was left to do
in a ritual
developed between the couple
over many seasons
was to rub
and to soft the ears
between their fingers

gradually
a sound became audible
then louder
and unmistakable

purr-purr-purr-ing

pats
strokes
soft words of endearment
and encouragement

the seasonal cat
opened her eyes
and meowed

oh the joy

happy hours
of petting
of rubbing up against people
furniture
legs

then finally
a change
a look in the feline eyes
that was somehow
different

focused
hungry

again together
they opened the door outside
and led the way
to the laden trees

cherries
fat baubles of promise
and glow
juice and joy
suspended voluptuously
in their twos and threes

so nearly ripe enough
for the taking

so clearly
already being taken
for there
plumped as though
in nests of their own entitlement
were a satin bower bird
and a king parrot

the cat hardly glanced at the birds
for she already knew

and with a leap
she was astride the main trunk
of the first
ornamented tree

with another
she was near to the top

a squawking
a flutter
a small chaos

the birds were gone

the couple looked at each other
faces lit with inner joy

such a satisfying moment
every year

the saving
of the cherries
by the seasonal cat

in a week
perhaps two
the cherries would be harvested
and the cat
could be once again
deflated
and placed to rest
in her box
beneath the stair

~

What a brilliant seasonal poem. Loved the analogy of the cherry tree. It really does seem to be a seasonal cat that topples all the Christmas trees & baubles.

Grasshopper wrote: "What a brilliant seasonal poem. Loved the analogy of the cherry tree. It really does seem to be a seasonal cat that topples all the Christmas trees & baubles."

Cheers Grasshopper. Glad you enjoyed.

👍

Frank wrote: "I've just done my first newsletter: First Newsletter - December 2018 can be found here. Take a peek - special seasonal poem included.

https://frankprem.com/newsletters-arc...

Have sent the foll..."
That is a very interesting poem indeed.

Thanks for the lovely Christmas poems Catherine & Frank. They do make a lovely read.

Catherine wrote: "Frank wrote: "I've just done my first newsletter: First Newsletter - December 2018 can be found here. Take a peek - special seasonal poem included.

https://frankprem.com/newsletters-arc...

Have..."

Noone gets the cherries without permission, Catherine. Good job I have a specially imagined menagerie to do security duty on my behalf.

Sandra wrote: "Thanks for the lovely Christmas poems Catherine & Frank. They do make a lovely read."

Cheers, Sandra. Glad if you enjoyed.

Catherine wrote: "Here is a Christmas rhyme for all the members:

That's some kind of baking Sandra. Good job, indeed.

Err Frank, it wasn't me, but Catherine who wrote the elf poem.

Sandra wrote: "Err Frank, it wasn't me, but Catherine who wrote the elf poem."

Oh dear. I apologise to you both. I know I meant to address Catherine. Please forgive a poor befuddled one.

Ha,ha. I am ok if she is ok.