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Poetry: March 29, 2017 Issue [#8207]

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Poetry


 This week: Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
  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


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Letter from the editor

The Other Side of a Mirror
by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge

I sat before my glass one day,
And conjured up a vision bare,
Unlike the aspects glad and gay,
That erst were found reflected there -
The vision of a woman, wild
With more than womanly despair.
Her hair stood back on either side
A face bereft of loveliness.
It had no envy now to hide
What once no man on earth could guess.
It formed the thorny aureole
Of hard, unsanctified distress.

Her lips were open - not a sound
Came though the parted lines of red,
Whate'er it was, the hideous wound
In silence and secret bled.
No sigh relieved her speechless woe,
She had no voice to speak her dread.

And in her lurid eyes there shone
The dying flame of life's desire,
Made mad because its hope was gone,
And kindled at the leaping fire
Of jealousy and fierce revenge,
And strength that could not change nor tire.

Shade of a shadow in the glass,
O set the crystal surface free!
Pass - as the fairer visions pass -
Nor ever more return, to be
The ghost of a distracted hour,
That heard me whisper: - 'I am she!'

Mary Elizabeth Coleridge was born on September 23, 1861, in London England. Her parents were musicians and she is the great niece of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Her childhood was filled with literature and music. As a young girl she read a lot and traveled to other countries. She wrote her first poem at the age of thirteen. Her childhood was filled with visiting writers and poets, such as Alfred, Lord Tennyson and Robert Browning. By the time she was nineteen she knew how to speak German, French, Italian, and Hebrew. In her later years she learned Latin and Greek.

When Coleridge was twenty she published her first essay. After that she began to publish frequently in several different periodicals. Her first book of poetry was self published, “Fancy's Following” in 1896. She wrote her poetry under the pen name “Anodos.” She wrote under her pen name to not disgrace her families name. Coleridge was never well known for her poetry. She published several novels, The Seven Sleepers of Ephesus, in 1893, The King with Two Faces in 1897, The Lady on the Drawingroom Floor in 1906 to name a few.

When Coleridge wasn’t writing she was teaching English at Working Women's College.Before she started at the college she would teach right out of her parents home. She wanted all women to be able to read and write. She was dedicated to improving the lives of the poor through literacy. Coleridge never left home, she never married. Mary Elizabeth Coleridge died on August 25, 1907 due to complications from an appendicitis. The rest of her poetry was published postpartum "Poems by Mary E. Coleridge," edited by Henry Newbolt, in 1907 followed by Gathered Leaves from the Prose of Mary E. Coleridge, edited by Edith Sichel in 1910.

Death and the Lady
by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge

Turn in, my lord, she said;
As it were the Father of Sin
I have hated the Father of the Dead,
The slayer of my kin;
By the Father of the Living led,
Turn in, my lord, turn in.

We were foes of old ; thy touch was cold,
But mine is warm as life;
I have struggled and made thee loose thy hold,
I have turned aside the knife.
Despair itself in me was bold,
I have striven, and won the strife.

But that which conquered thee and rose
Again to earth descends;
For the last time we have come to blows.
And the long combat ends.
The worst and secretest of foes,
Be now my friend of friends.

Affection
by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge

The earth that made the rose,
She also is thy mother, and not I.
The flame wherewith thy maiden spirit glows
Was lighted at no hearth that I sit by.
I am as far below as heaven above thee.
Were I thine angel, more I could not love thee.

Bid me defend thee!
Thy danger over-human strength shall lend me,
A hand of iron and a heart of steel,
To strike, to wound, to slay, and not to feel.
But if you chide me,
I am a weak, defenseless child beside thee.



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:
 Problem Open in new Window. (13+)
Contest entry for Stormy's Poetry Newsletter
#2113999 by Chris Breva Author IconMail Icon


I always thought I found an angel in a bottle
What a demon it turned out to be
It took me straight down a road unwanted
I traversed there for years
My wings broken like those of the angel
As I struggled with my pain
I hated the person in the mirror
I wanted to kill the evil within
Little did I know the answer was there all along
It waited inside me
Somebody helped me find my answer
Now my spirit soars wild and free.

Honorable mention:
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#2113861 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, "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contestOpen in new Window. [ASR] by April 22, 2017.

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 (April 26, 2017)

The words are:


city black streets white creatures blue dreams humans


*Delight* Good luck to all *Delight*

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Dinosaur glory days ... A PersonITfication Entry
#2116401 by 🌕 HuntersMoon Author IconMail Icon

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Missing You (Cote Form) Open in new Window. (E)
Man's best friend
#2116316 by Espero Author IconMail Icon

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#2116491 by Not Available.

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The Season Is Ripe Open in new Window. (E)
celebrating springtime in a Haiku Sonnet
#2116543 by Dave's trying to catch up Author IconMail Icon

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