Nov 25

Events:

DecemberfirstweekpreliminaryNotes

Dec 2, Dublin NH  Autumn Oracles 2012,  at  Del Rossi’s Trattoria          3 p.m. Open Reading  2:30 p.m. Social/Sign-up, 3 p.m. Open Reading   Feature:  MILTON’S 404^th BIRTHDAY, PARADISE LOST, Book IV, “Satan Enters Eden”  The Milton Ensemble  Donation   Route 137N, Dublin, N.H.    603-563-7195

Dec 2, Cambridge,Mass.  3pm New England Poetry Club Readings PRIZE POETS Reading     NEPC Contest winners read their winning poems   free and open to the public.
For more information, contact us at Click here or call 617-744-603 4Cambridge Public Library, Main Library    449 Broadway, CambridgeClick here

December  4 Moultonboro -7:30pm - Moultonborough Town Library, –Ed’s sister Ginger ( Virginia Cote ) Features, reading from her book of poetry  followed by open mic (476-8895) 476-2630)

Dec 4 Portland Me, Port Veritas  . Bull Feeney’s Bar & Restaurant 375 Fore Street – Portland, ME – 04101 All Ages – $3 Cover 7-10pm (Open Mic 7:30 Feature -Derek M. Avila is a poet out of New Hampshire. . 8:30) . Bull Feeney’s Bar & Restaurant  375 Fore Street  PortlandEnjoy a great room, excellent food and a full bar.  Gil Helmick   400.7543Click here

Dec 5 Portsmouth, 7-9 pm – Café Espresso, – Portsmouth Poetry Hoot – Features are Colln Halloran & Kyle Potvin followed by open mike (772-4345, Click here ). , 738 Islington St., Portsmouth - Click here) Click here)

Dec 6  Rochester Writers Night  HolidayAll OpenMic begins at 6:15  Participants have a 5 minute limit, with extra rounds if there is time..Please come early for some of the Pantry's remarkable food, bring your original poetry, prose, or music to read, or just relax and listen to our talented feature performer and enjoy a great night.Sign-up at 6 PM We end just before 8PM Portable Pantry 12 Hanson St. in Rochester NH. Click here

Dec 6   Manchester, 7 pm – Milly’s Tavern, Manchester – Slam Free or Die – Features and open mike (647-9991 or Click here )

December 6 for Winter Social and Reading by Award Winning Author, Justin Torres

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Born:

1125

Isaac Rosenberg  (, 1890- April 1, 1918 )  Click here   Click here  poet

From  God

11Who rests in God's mean flattery now? Your wealth

12Is but his cunning to make death more hard.

13Your iron sinews take more pain in breaking.

14And he has made the market for your beauty

15Too poor to buy, although you die to sell.

16Only that he has never heard of sleep;

17And when the cats come out the rats are sly.

18Here we are safe till he slinks in at dawn

19But he has gnawed a fibre from strange roots,

20And in the morning some pale wonder ceases.

21Things are not strange and strange things are forgetful.

22Ah! if the day were arid, somehow lost

23Out of us, but it is as hair of us,

24And only in the hush no wind stirs it.

25And in the light vague trouble lifts and breathes,

26And restlessness still shadows the lost ways.

27The fingers shut on voices that pass through,

28Where blind farewells are taken easily ....

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Passed:

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Click here ( 1674 -1748) Eng tutor, writer, poet

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Ernest  Myers     October 13, 1844- , 1921   Click here  Click here Teacher ,Poet

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Geoffrey Edward Harvey Grigson (2 March 1905 –1985) British writer ,poet,critic and naturalist.

\

Paddington Street

By the low gas fire which sent

Its red suffusion through the room

I undressed you, to your sweet

Navel bare, and small, exquisitely

Shaped you were.

Yet in that dry warm unharsh gloom

You reached over (horizontally)

And took the phone. You rang

Your husband, and you said,

I shall not be home. And, I am not alone.

I loved you. But what hating

Made you, over me, your breast

Touching my own, most graceful

One, reach to the phone?

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Sites:

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History:

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1721 a proclamation for a publick thanksgiving

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Bonus Poem:

A Statue In The Garden

I was a goddess ere the marble found me.
Wind, wind, delay not!
Waft my spirit where the laurel crowned me!
Will the wind stay not?

Then tarry, tarry, listen, little swallow!
An old glory feeds me
I lay upon the bosom of Apollo!
Not a bird heeds me.

For here the days are alien. Oh, to waken
Mine, mine, with calling!
But on my shoulders bare, like hopes forsaken,
The dead leaves are falling.

The sky is gray and full of unshed weeping
As dim down the garden
I wait and watch the early autumn sweeping.
The stalks fade and harden.

The souls of all the flowers afar have rallied.
The trees, gaunt, appalling,
Attest the gloom, and on my shoulders pallid
The dead leaves are falling.

                                                                                Eleanor Agnes Lee