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A Poem for a Thursday #183
Miller Williams was an American poet, translator, and editor. He lived from1930-2015. Williams won several awards and published over 25 books. Former president, Bill Clinton, chose him to read a poem at his second inauguration. According to an article in The New York Times, “Mr. Williams was allergic to pretension and what he once called “coyness” in poetry. In an interview with The Oxford American, he proudly recounted the time the singer, Hank Williams Sr. told him over drinks at a gas station in Lake Charles, La, that he had “a beer-drinking soul.” Small fact and fingers and farthest one from me, a hand's width and two generations away, in…
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Three British Library Crime Classics
Jumping Jenny by Anthony Berkley starts with a costume party where the guests are dressed as famous murderers and their victims. It takes a bit for the reader (or this one at any rate) to sort out who each person is in reality and in costume. One guest, Ena Stratton, is liked by no one and does her best to cause chaos and unpleasantness for the other guests. Soon, she is swinging from the decorative gallows erected for the party. Amauter detective, Roger Sheringham, believes he knows who is responsible for the crime and thinks Ena got what was coming to her. He does his best to confuse the police…
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A Poem for a Thursday #182
Lesbia Harford was an Australian poet and political activist. She lived from 1891-1927. She was born with a congenital heart defect and also suffered from tuberculosis. Harford handwrote her poems in notebooks or sent them in letters to friends. Unfortunately, her notebooks were destroyed in an accidental fire after her death. No complete collection of her poems exists. Harford mistrusted publishers and was in no hurry to be published. A few of her poems were published in journals and anthologies. At ten o'clock its great gong sounds the dread Prelude to splendour. I push back my chair, And all the people leave their books. We flock, Still acquiescent, down the…
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In Which the Germs Finally Win
Last week I was wandering around this park in Massachusetts with my parents and my kids. This week I am at home with Covid. My husband and son also have Covid and my daughter, who is in Connecticut with my parents, is sick too. Before you feel too sorry for us, none of us are horribly sick and I barely qualify as sick at all. In fact, I put it down to allergies at first and a negative Covid test seemed to confirm it. Then my husband and son became ill so I tested again and this time it was positive. I can’t go to work before at least Saturday…
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A Poem for a Thursday #181
Next year my daughter will be a senior in high school. It is just unbelievable to me. We won’t even talk about how old my son is. Kids. They just insist on growing up. This poem struck a chord with me. My kids aren’t quite ready to leave home but I can see the day coming. Excuse me while I sink into a welter of memories of how adorable my children were. When I taught you at eight to ride a bicycle, loping along beside you as you wobbled away on two round wheels, my own mouth rounding in surprise when you pulled ahead down the curved path of the…
