I slack on posting and taking pictures, but oh, how I succeed at reading–and particularly reading and loving poetry.  Lest this tradition fall by the wayside, the most apt poem for Imbolc, this day, February first.  It’s my beloved Mom’s birthday, and we have a light dusting of snow, and I can’t get my mind […]

When Tethera was in full swing, our performances at Celtic festivals tended to include question and answer sessions, because, well, we have an small, interesting and interested group of fans.  A question we got several times was: “What sort of creation myth did the Celts have.”  And the three of us would explain that while […]

I’ve been remiss, obviously, about this poetry thing we do. Blame in on my job–I always do. Here’s something from Marianne Moore. As is probably obvious, Ireland is terribly important to me, and like all things that are terribly important to me, my relationship with the country and its culture and my tiny spot in […]

by Sandra McPherson The man vending needles at our door Was lucky to greet you. He looked poor but you acted needle-poor Where I’d have said, I don’t need … He sells needles to prick your heart And they’ll take small bites Out of my finger in a layer of skin Where my feelings are […]

Wow, we excel at slack these days. April is national poetry month.  I’ve been spending so much time hiding from my writing that I haven’t been much of a poetry reader lately.  But let’s forget about that for a moment and think about words. Lots of people quote the opening of The Wasteland  right about […]

Originally added by Rachel   So I’m a bookseller for a living. Generally I love it–it’s one of those jobs you fall into to pay the rent as a starving English major and for some people, like me, it becomes an obsession. Er, career, I think they call it. But sometimes bookselling makes you feel […]

Here I go, using any excuse to evangelize about a poet I like.  Medbh McGuckian is fantastic, and she has a great sense of compression.  I posted a lovely poem of hers over on the quasi-knitting side of my interweb presence.  Both are about love, of course, but in very different ways. Blood-Words Medbh McGuckian […]

It would be pretty lame if a poetry blog couldn’t get its act together to participate in the Blogger’s Silent Poetry Reading, huh? I’m going to cheat, because I’m like that. At first I was going to post my favorite Lauterbach, but I already have an excuse to do that, so then my brain started […]

The best-ever rebuttal of the "Blooming" of American literary criticism.  More to follow.

Originally posted by Rachel   Well, I can’t make Lanea find all of the wool poems all by herself, can I? A sentimental old favorite, this one, by Christopher Marlowe. Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove That valleys, groves, hills, and fields Woods or steepy mountain […]