Poetry: July 24, 2013 Issue [#5801]
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Poetry


 This week: Amy Levy
  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

I will be sharing the lives of some well known poets as well as some not so well known poets and their poetry in my newsletters. I will also share poetry from the minds and the hearts of poets on Writing.Com. The poems I am going to be exposing throughout my 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

The Old Poet
by Amy Levy

I will be glad because it is the Spring;
I will forget the winter in my heart--
Dead hopes and withered promise; and will wring
A little joy from life ere life depart.

For spendthrift youth with passion-blinded eyes,
Stays not to see how woods and fields are bright;
He hears the phantom voices call, he flies
Upon the track of some unknown delight.

To him the tender glory of the May,
White wonder of the blossom, and the clear,
Soft green leaves that opened yesterday,
This only say: Forward, my friend, not here!

They breathe no other messages than this,
They have no other meaning for his heart;
Unto his troubled sense they tell of bliss,
Which make, themselves, of bliss the better part.

Yea, joy is near him, tho' he does not know;
Her unregarded shape is at his side,
Her unheard voice is whispering clear and low,
Whom, resting never, seeks he far and wide.

So once it was with us, my heart! To-day
We will be glad because the leaves are green,
Because the fields are fair and soft with May,
Nor think on squandered springtimes that have been.

On November 10th, 1861 Lewis Levy and Isobel Levin, welcomed daughter Amy Levy into their family. Amy was the second child of seven. From a very early age Amy’s family had her and her siblings involved in writing, reading, and putting on plays. They would publish a magazine with Amy’s poetry and plays as a contribution. At the age of 15 Amy left home to study at Brighton High School. She lived on her own in a small apartment, but her family visited often.

In 1880 Amy published her first book of poetry, “Xantrippe and Other Verses.” Amy surrounded herself with young literary men and women with Socialist ideals. She had stopped practicing Judaism but still considered herself Jewish. Amy began to battle periods of depression but through it all she continued to travel Europe and write. Her second book of poetry was "A Minor Poet and Other Verse," published in 1884.

In 1988 Amy published her first novel "The Romance of a Shop." Her next book of poetry was published "A London Plane-Tree and Other Verse." Even though Amy surrounded herself with many friends, her struggle with depression won out in the end and her mental health failed. She was 28 years old when she locked herself in a room and inhaled charcoal fumes. Her mother and her sister found her hours later, Amy died September 10, 1889.


London in July
by Amy Levy

What ails my senses thus to cheat?
What is it ails the place,
That all the people in the street
Should wear one woman's face?

The London trees are dusty-brown
Beneath the summer sky;
My love, she dwells in London town,
Nor leaves it in July.

O various and intricate maze,
Wide waste of square and street;
Where, missing through unnumbered days,
We twain at last may meet!

And who cries out on crowd and mart?
Who prates of stream and sea?
The summer in the city's heart--
That is enough for me.


A Wall Flower
by Amy Levy

I lounge in the doorway and languish in vain
While Tom, Dick and Harry are dancing with Jane

My spirit rises to the music's beat;
There is a leaden fiend lurks in my feet!
To move unto your motion, Love, were sweet.

Somewhere, I think, some other where, not here,
In other ages, on another sphere,
I danced with you, and you with me, my dear.

In perfect motion did our bodies sway,
To perfect music that was heard alway;
Woe's me, that am so dull of foot to-day!

To move unto your motion, Love, were sweet;
My spirit rises to the music's beat--
But, ah, the leaden demon in my feet!


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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The Knight's Tale Open in new Window. (E)
A story within a story ... (Form: Traditional Ballad)
#1942835 by 🌖 HuntersMoon Author IconMail Icon


The knight was weary from the ride,
the journey had been long.
He stopped to rest, and in the wind,
he heard a distant song.

(Refrain)
The tales are told of yesteryear -
Norse legends of the sea.
There sails a ship called “Odin’s Eye”
in songs of victory

The elders gathered ‘round the man,
the storytellers say,
who carried magic in his hand
that always points the way.

Though he could speak the native tongue;
his manners were not Norse.
He traveled not by sailing ship;
he came by way of horse.

The small arrow that he carried
he claimed would guide the way
to the halls of great Valhalla
and its ice covered quay.

They loaded up their dragon boat,
this fearless Viking clan,
to prove to all the Gods of old
the dominance of man.

(Refrain)

The fjord rang with hunting songs,
bright shone each shield and blade,
as onward to the north they sailed
proudly and unafraid.

The Gods sent snow and ice and storm
and yet, could do no harm.
The brave men laughed at each, convinced,
the arrow was their charm.

The rising sun revealed their goal;
there stood castles of ice.
With battle cries, they launched the fight;
the Gods would pay the price.

(Refrain)

For days the village kept a watch
for Odin’s Eye’s return.
The ship was found, pulled on the beach,
empty from stem to stern.

The winter snows came earlier
than ever seen before.
A watch fire was kept ablaze
along the empty shore.

No trace was ever found of the
courageous men, now gone.
Yet, in the wind at night, is heard
the battle raging on.

As though arising from a sleep
the knight now felt restored.
The weathered lines had left his face;
his weariness ignored.


The knight picked up his heavy shield
inspired to begin.
His bloodline knew this hero’s song
for it came from within.


Honorable mention:
 
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The Steel Dragon Open in new Window. (E)
A Great Lakes storm claims another victim (A Rondeau)
#1942366 by PandaPaws Licensed VetTech Author IconMail Icon


 
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Horse shoe Tale Open in new Window. (E)
A Knight's Tale
#1940341 by Alexi Author IconMail Icon




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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, "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contestOpen in new Window. [ASR] by August 16, 2013.

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 (August 21, 2013)

The words are:


pain, venomous, purity, bottle, evil, fear, loss, uncontrollable


*Delight* Good luck to all *Delight*

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This item number is not valid.
#1942247 by Not Available.

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This item number is not valid.
#1942380 by Not Available.

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This item number is not valid.
#1942691 by Not Available.

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 Nature’s Bountiful Abode Open in new Window. (E)
We adore Mother Nature to the nth degree, yet we must deal with it, as well - a poem.
#1942924 by Tim Chiu Author IconMail Icon

 In the Pouring Rain Open in new Window. (E)
A cascade poem. . .
#1943605 by Weirdone-Back in the games Author IconMail Icon

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When Madness Set In Open in new Window. (E)
Who is that in the photograph?
#1943339 by Teargen Author IconMail Icon

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This item number is not valid.
#1943399 by Not Available.

 
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Twenty One Hairpin Turns Open in new Window. (E)
Cycling up the Alps.
#1943625 by Jatog the Green Author IconMail Icon

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This item number is not valid.
#1943741 by Not Available.

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Ask & Answer


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