thank you sarah freligh, for your beautiful poem
in this national poetry month and every month.
3 am is the hour of writers,
painters, poets, musicians, silence seekers,
over-thinkers, and creative people.
We know who you are,
We can see your light on.
Keep on keeping on.
image credit: pinterest – vintage
Wole Soyinka, playwright, poet and Nobel Laureate, reads an original poem written for children at the high-level meeting of the General Assembly on the occasion of the thirtieth anniversary of the adoption of the Convention on the Rights of the Child.
Celebrating the linguistic expression
of our common humanity
Poetry reaffirms our common humanity by revealing to us that individuals, everywhere in the world, share the same questions and feelings. Poetry is the mainstay of oral tradition and, over centuries, can communicate the innermost values of diverse cultures.
In celebrating World Poetry Day, March 21, UNESCO recognizes the unique ability of poetry to capture the creative spirit of the human mind.
A decision to proclaim March 21 as World Poetry Day was adopted during UNESCO’s 30th session held in Paris in 1999.
One of the main objectives of the Day is to support linguistic diversity through poetic expression and to offer endangered languages the opportunity to be heard within their communities.
The observance of World Poetry Day is also meant to encourage a return to the oral tradition of poetry recitals, to promote the teaching of poetry, to restore a dialogue between poetry and the other arts such as theatre, dance, music and painting, to support small publishers and create an attractive image of poetry in the media, so that the art of poetry will no longer be considered an outdated form of art, but one which enables society as a whole to regain and assert its identity. As poetry continues to bring people together across continents, all are invited to join in.
“poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.”
credits: photo: UN Photo/Mark Garten, UNESCO
Poetry is pure white.
It emerges from water covered with drops,
is wrinkled, all in a heap.
It has to be spread out, the skin of this planet,
has to be ironed out, the sea’s whiteness;
and the hands keep moving, moving,
the holy surfaces are smoothed out,
and that is how things are accomplished.
Every day, hands are creating the world,
fire is married to steel,
and canvas, linen, and cotton come back
from the skirmishings of the laundries,
and out of light a dove is born –
pure innocence returns out of the swirl.
–in praise of ironing by Pablo Neruda, translated by Alastair Reid
“the exact day I became a poet was april 1, 1965,
the day I bought my first typewriter.”
in honor of poetry month.
mine was the day I learned to hold a pencil
and found a scrap of paper to scribble on.
image credit: daskeyboard
a poem begins with a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong,
a homesickness, a lovesickness.
happy birthday, robert frost – born march 1874
image credit: maurice shapiro – woodland sketch
“i simply do not distinguish between work and play.”
r.i.p. mary oliver, one of my favorite poets – i agree.
image credit: alice boughton,
Teachers and kindergarten students
Warm-toned Gelatin Silver Print unmounted 1910 USA