Archives - June 2011

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Jun. 29

A New Gig

5

From the Left

Say hello to the new "From the Left" columnist for our local newspaper.  I'll be writing a weekly column beginning next week.  Holy smokes!  What have I gotten myself into?

 

This is my first article:

 

Perplexed Students and Yellow Dog Democrats


I come by my liberalism honestly ... it is inherited from my mother and grandmother.  When my grandmother died several years ago, I only asked for three things:  a hand-pieced quilt I had helped her stretch when I was a little girl; the Bible she used for over fifty years to carefully plan her Sunday school lessons at the First Baptist Church of Gary, Texas; and the voter's registration card in her wallet, prominently stamped DEMOCRAT. 

Now mind you, the Democratic Party has changed from the early days when my grandmother first cast a vote as a Yellow Dog (i ...

Jun. 28

AKA Big Mama

8

The Wyf of Bath

I have been working on my collection of poems dedicated to my ten grandparents.  This one is about my paternal great-grandmother Mattie Pierce.

 

 

           Her hosen weren of fyn scarlet reed,

           Ful streite y-teyed, and shoos ful moiste and

                 newe

           Bold was hir face, and fair, and reed of hewe

           She was a worthy woman al hir lyve ...

 

Big Mama

flaming red hair curling close to her head

scarlet lipstick     stark against her pale freckled skin

wire frames circling merry blue eyes

in a round face atop a short neck

rolls of fat almost obscuring her Sunday-go-to-meeting pearls

           wide of hip

                     she was as round as she was t

                                                             a

                                                              l

                                                              l

her chubby fingers and toes accented

with Avon's siren-red nail polish

she knew all the remedies for love's mischances

         was well-versed in ...

Jun. 14

Isaac Rosenberg

10

A Forgotten Poet

Born in Bristol, England in 1890, Isaac Rosenberg studied painting as a young man.  But his true gift was in the imagery of words rather than of visual images.  He answered the call of his country and enlisted in the army, serving in trench warfare in France.  He was killed in 1918.  I think he would have been a major poet had he lived.  A year before his death, Rosenberg wrote "A Worm Fed on the Heart of Corinth," a fascinating fragment poem of biblical proportions.

 

A Worm fed on the heart of Corinth,

Babylon and Rome:

Not Paris raped tall Helen,

But this incestuous worm,

Who lured her vivid beauty

To his amorphous sleep.

England! famous as Helen

Is thy betrothal sung

To him the shadowless,

More amorous than Solomon.

 

The incestuous worm of whom he speaks is Satan, who is betrothed ...

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Listening to the whispering pines

Hello. My name is Donna Cozart Pauley. Welcome to The Whispering Pines, a literary blog dedicated to my love of the written word. It is an eclectic collage of my life -- from my poems to my stories to my family to my pets to my causes to my photographs to my recipes to my love of teaching to my favorite literature. Please feel free to comment. Words are only important if they are heard or read. Just like those soundless trees falling in the forest.

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