Sunday, March 21, 2010

Happy International Poetry Day

Every language has its poetry and every human being holds the key to their own poetics. Whether it takes on a simple or embellished form, poetry captures what is most difficult to interpret in human experience. Poetry expresses the inexpressible, the common ground of the human mystery.

On this World Poetry Day 2010, let us recall that poetry is a universal country in which peoples may meet through words of all colours, rhythms and musicality. Words that, regardless of the language from which they blossomed, reach out far for a light that captures the very essence of the human being, the dignity of each person.

-- Message from Ms. Irina Bokova, Director-General of UNESCO, on the occasion of World Poetry Day 2010, 21 March

In observance of the day, and in an attempt to bring my own poetic talents out of remission, I invite you to stop over at WORD ART, where I've started dusting off some old verses and hope to plunk down some new.

That is, when I have nothing more pressing to do....


  1. At risk
    of Failure
    I offer this
    in discourse
    that might endure
    for lack
    of intercourse.

  2. If my muse
    Lights the fuse
    Who knows what hues
    I'd write for youse?

  3. Punch:
    The muse
    gladly accepts offerings
    all day,
    seven days a week;
    just don't ask for
    a receipt.

  4. Doug:
    I've too much distraction
    to follow your caption.
    Forgive the inaction?

  5. Oh dear, I haven't a poetic bone in my body.
    Or thought in my head.
    I did once own a VW Bug named Byron
    But the universal breaklines in it went dead.

    Unfortunately, I'm being quite literal. I admire the words of others, but creating them?

    Yeah, I suck :-)

    You don't, though!

  6. L-o-S, au contraire, your verse is no worse than a lot of what I've read.

    Playing with words is ok, in spite of what your 5th grade teacher might have told you!

  7. Dollar late,
    two days short,
    can't write poetry,
    without a snort
    or two.

    Okay, it was either that, or my roses are dead thing.

    This is my assholeo way of reading it,
    but I realized long ago...that's
    where it needs to stop with me. It actually had something to do with the laughter of the, guffawing is more accurate. She married an optometrist.

    BTW, I know the walrus. She married an optometrist.

  8. Jaded, I like your poetry. But then I'm not married to an optometrist.

  9. "L-o-S, au contraire, your verse is no worse than a lot of what I've read. "

    YIKES! Poor you. Particularly since I meant brake-lines.

    Also, I'm perfectly comfortable with my own poetic suckage :-)


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