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Poetry: April 16, 2008 Issue [#2332]

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Poetry


 This week:
  Edited by: Stormy Lady Author IconMail Icon
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Table of Contents

1. About this Newsletter
2. A Word from our Sponsor
3. Letter from the Editor
4. Editor's Picks
5. A Word from Writing.Com
6. Ask & Answer
7. Removal instructions

About This Newsletter

This is poetry from the minds and the hearts of poets on Writing.Com. The poems I am going to be exposing throughout this newsletter are ones that I have found to be, very visual, mood setting and uniquely done. Stormy Lady Author Icon


Word from our sponsor



Letter from the editor

(Although I didn't find out a lot about A. S. J. Tessimond, I truly enjoyed his poetry and hope that you all do too.)


Day Dream
by A. S. J. Tessimond

One day people will touch and talk perhaps
easily,
And loving be natural as breathing and warm as
sunlight,
And people will untie themselves, as string is unknotted,
Unfold and yawn and stretch and spread their fingers,
Unfurl, uncurl like seaweed returned to the sea,
And work will be simple and swift
as a seagull flying,
And play will be casual and quiet
as a seagull settling,
And the clocks will stop, and no one will wonder
or care or notice,
And people will smile without reason,
Even in winter, even in the rain.


Arthur Seymour John Tessimond was born on July 19, 1902 in Birkenhead, England. He was an only child and left home at a young age. He was sixteen when he started his studies at Liverpool University. After he finished his studies he moved to London where he worked in a small bookshop. Tessimond dodged getting drafted into the service during World War II. He was later diagnosed as having bipolar disorder. As a treatment for his condition Tessimond under went electroshock therapy.

Tessimond started writing in his early twenties. Often writing about his ups and downs and his nightlife. As many other poets, his first pieces were published in literary magazines. In 1934, Tessimond published his first volume of poetry "Walls of Glass." Followed by "Voices in a Giant City" in 1947. Tessimond also contributed poems to "Bewick's Birds," which was published in 1954.

At the age of sixty, Tessimond suffered a Brain hemorrhage and died.


Black Morning Lovesong
by A. S. J. Tessimond

In love's dances, in love's dances
One retreats and one advances,
One grows warmer and one colder,
One more hesitant, one bolder.
One gives what the other needed
Once, or will need, now unheeded.
One is clenched, compact, ingrowing
While the other's melting, flowing.
One is smiling and concealing
While the other's asking kneeling.
One is arguing or sleeping
While the other's weeping, weeping.

And the question finds no answer
And the tune misleads the dancer
And the lost look finds no other
And the lost hand finds no brother
And the word is left unspoken
Till the theme and thread are broken.

When shall these divisions alter?
Echo's answer seems to falter:
'Oh the unperplexed, unvexed time
Next time...one day...one day...next time!'

Wet City Night
by A. S. J. Tessimond

Light drunkenly reels into shadow;
Blurs, slurs uneasily;
Slides off the eyeballs:
The segments shatter.

Tree-branches cut arc-light in ragged
Fluttering wet strips.
The cup of the sky-sign is filled too full;
It slushes wine over.

The street-lamps dance a tarentella
And zigzag down the street:
They lift and fly away
In a wind of lights.


Thank you all!
Stormy Lady Author Icon

A logo for Poetry Newsletter Editors
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Editor's Picks


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The winner of "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contestOpen in new Window. [ASR] is:

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#1403900 by Not Available.



The Storyteller

The children are nestled,
In their little beds.
Dreaming of yesterday,
The storyteller said...

They were so excited, to see,
A horse at the fair.
Though it was raining,
Seemed nobody cared...

Stories were told,
Of a great horse and his Knight.
Running through fields,
Of sunshine, bright...

While slaying a dragon,
Who lay in his lair.
He rescued a princess,
With golden hair...

Though, he didn't know,
At this place in time.
The princess, would be his wife,
And children, he'd have nine...

This is my ending,
To stories, not true.
But if I were a Knight,
I'd make a princess out of you...


Doing it right Open in new Window. (E)
A simple poem useing prompt words
#1405001 by James A. Osteen Jr. Author IconMail Icon

Doing it right

As children get excited
the storyteller knows
each harvest is determined
by what the farmer sows.
-
And never ending nuggets
we sowed just yesterday
will be the ones we harvest
once time has had her say.
-
If sunshine is to follow rain
then we must do our part
to keep the horse in front of
and not behind the cart.


Honorable mention:
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#1406513 by Not Available.



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These are the rules:

1) You must use the words I give in a poem or prose with no limits on length.

2) The words can be in any order and anywhere throughout the poem and can be any form of the word.

3) All entries must be posted in your portfolio and you must post the link in this forum by May 15, 2008.

4) The winner will get 3000 gift points and the poem will be displayed in this section of the newsletter the next time it is my turn to post (May 23, 2008)

The words are:


Summer Nights


*Delight* Good luck to all *Delight*

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#1407964 by Not Available.

 Dance of the Wooden Blades Open in new Window. (E)
Assignment for Lesson 3 of SWPoet's workshop: Compare and Contrast
#1410117 by Cubby Author IconMail Icon

An Evening at the Laundromat Open in new Window. (13+)
The woman obviously did not want to go home
#1411884 by Prosperous Snow celebrating Author IconMail Icon

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#1411665 by Not Available.

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#1412279 by Not Available.

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#1411398 by Not Available.

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#1410762 by Not Available.

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#1411215 by Not Available.

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#1412522 by Not Available.

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