Happy National Poetry Month! This is a reminder to read a poem here and there... wherever you find one, in whatever voice speaks to you.
This year the one I'm sharing is by Forugh Farrokhzad, a Persian poet who wrote in the 1950s & 60s. On the left of this photo capture is her original, on the right is an English translation.
Enjoy finding poetry everywhere.
Happy April and the Fool's Day, which points to new beginnings!
Please welcome my new book, co-authored with my dear colleague Kate (who also did this smashing cover), Meet Your Muse: The Dance of Creativity.
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| https://mybook.to/MeetYourMuse |
A poem was asked into being by a loved one. Now, the poem itself asks to be shared in the form of a reading.
Feel free to click the link below to view. It's roughly a minute in length, from the quiet of my sunroom.
Please read here: https://thenewversenews.substack.com/i/141892157/a-voice-for-navalny
Grateful to the editor of this journal, James Penha, for choosing poetry that sheds light on current events.
There are many ways that poetry happens, and one way is by request. Each time I've been commissioned to write a piece, it has felt like a blessing. In one case, a blessing on the pandemic; in another case, a blessing on a life suddenly ended. This is sacred work––to be entrusted to create a tribute, elegy, or ode for a specific person or scenario.
A commissioned poem is never shared by me without permission. It's typically private, a gift. In our era of sharing everything under the sun, I keep some work out of the public eye. This is my code of ethics.
In times of grieving, of doubt, of loneliness, art can be an answer. I've worked as a dance therapist for many years. My mindset is that art is healing. Poetry heals. Find a poem that moves you. Remember that you can ask for one that hasn't come into existence, that's waiting to be born.
Feel free to comment below. You can also send me a message on Instagram @charhogepoet.
Walk to Twilight
Jilted tree,
jingle bells played
out, on its side
at the curb.
Vestige
of a dog-eared
calendar.
Blanketed bronze
“Homeless Jesus”
curled up against
a sculpted bench
… crucified feet
uncovered.
Its replica
swaddled in cloth
against a metro grate
… grown man folded
into a fetal position.
Sliver of moon slung
like a hammock
across the semidarkness.
The rest of the silver orb,
the lot of felled pine,
the contour of the womb
are out of the picture.
~LCMH
You never know what you'll find at an arts festival in Hardy County, West Virginia. When I prepare my poetry table at the annual Art on Cullers Run, I am surrounded by extraordinary artists and makers. Last year I fell in awe with an art piece by Michele Mouré: a sculpted book that pays homage to Maya Angelou's I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. Angelou's book has been banned in certain areas of the United States, and Mouré's art exists in this context.
A photo doesn't capture the three-dimensionality of this piece, but it gives you a view. An eye-opening view.
