By F. Richard Thomas
Via a clean, innovative format—prefaces and afterwords that comic strip the nature of the poet, that offer perception into how he writes and what evokes him—Richard Thomas has captured during this publication of his personal poems the flavour and pleasure of a poetry reading. The book’s 3 sections (My acquaintances; My family; My Self) not just exhibit the poem but additionally acquaint the reader with the method of writing poetry. Defining his target during this e-book, Thomas says, “I wish untrained readers may perhaps higher comprehend the materials of poetry—metaphor, ambiguity, mystery. As for skilled readers, i'm hoping they're going to locate the reviews as interesting as these they could listen at a reading.” this can be a nondidactic e-book for inventive writing sessions and a textual content for either English schooling classes and language arts equipment classes in education. and naturally a e-book in case you relish poetry.
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Additional info for Frog praises night: poems with commentary
Some of the white flakes float up to my window, stop, as if to peer in, then hurry away. Page 55 The Awakening 1. Every night I pray my back will be better in the morning. In the morning I pray the same. 2. Stepping from the shower I see the wet spot on the floor where my arch should have been. 3. After shaving I pick at the sebacious cysts on my forehead till they bleed. 4. I unroll my socks over my legs where blue veins lie like thick worms. 5. I've got a Wrinkle-Guard Dryer for my clothes, but my body's getting worse.
Do we simply have short memories? Are we lazy? Does our American culture disallow such excursions into the Self? Yes, to all three questions. In our culture of throwaways, junk food and clothes, trash TV and toys, and popularity contests, we are begged to escape from excursions into our Selves, from finding out who we really areSelves who are afraid and insecure; Selves curious and alive with questions and doubts; Selves striving for completion and fulfillment. The new God is an Adman who tells us we can put aside our death by buying a new car or watching the latest jiggle show.
Whatever it is. Something inside me reaching for warmth, love, for light, for friends. But nothing happens for another week, another week. The toothless grey dog slowly clamps his cold damp gums around my skull. Out of this madness and a packet of photographs from a friend came the inspiration for "Aerogram"a poem that reveals one of the reasons why living on alien ground enriches and rewards while it wounds. Page 19 Friends (for John Barnie) hat cold fall day when we were first together walking across an empty field, we saw a wave of sparrows crash against the grass.