Strafford Notes-19 January, 2013 (news) with Chip Bergeron on AuthorsDen

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Strafford Notes-19 January, 2013
Sunday, January 20, 2013 5:39:00 AM

by Chip Bergeron

Poetry

Yesterday's......Today's will be posted later..................

Jan. 1 9

Events:

From The Fosters:

012013 Farmington

Periale to emcee Inaugural Ball event

FARMINGTON — The Farmington Democratic Committee is pleased to announce that Andrew Periale, a former poet laureate of Rochester, and internationally known poet and puppeteer, has agreed to serve as Master of Ceremonies for the Inaugural Ball to be held at The Old Town Hall at 531 Main St. from 6 to 9 p.m. on Sunday, Jan. 20.
He will add intelligent commentary, humor and wit to the proceedings. The Committee is delighted to have him serve as Master of Ceremonies. He will complement the live music provided by singer and songwriter Pat O’Brien and the recorded music which will be provided for those who wish to dance. In addition to the entertainment, the menu will range from brownies to caviar and many other delightful light refreshments. All are welcome.
Admission is $10 at the door and $8 in advance by sending an e-mail to Click here or to Click here.

Born:

January 19

Click here (1809 – Click here/1849) US horror story writer and poet

Click here

Click here (1839 – Click here/1906) French painter 'Post-Impressionist’

Click here

Click here Mary Patricia Plangman (1921-Feb 4, 1995) U.S. mystery writer

Click here

Click here (1943 – Click here/1970) US singer 'Me And Bobby McGee' and 1971 #1 album 'Pearl'.

                                    From Chelsea Hotel # 2

Ah but you got away, didn't you babe,

you just turned your back on the crowd,

you got away, I never once heard you say,

I need you, I don't need you,

I need you, I don't need you

and all of that jiving around.

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel

you were famous, your heart was a legend.

You told me again you preferred handsome men

but for me you would make an exception.

And clenching your fist for the ones like us

who are oppressed by the figures of beauty,

you fixed yourself, you said, "Well never mind,

we are ugly but we have the music."

And then you got away, didn't you babe...

I don't mean to suggest that I loved you the best,

I can't keep track of each fallen robin.

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,

that's all, I don't even think of you that often.

Click here

Click here (1946) English writer

Click here

Passed:

January 19

Click here (Click here/1923 –1997) US writer /poet

Click here

from May Day Sermon To The Women Of Gilmer County By A Lady Preacher Leaving The Baptist Church

Searching for what to be, on ground that has called Him from His Book:
Shall He be the pain in the willow, or the copperhead's kingly riding
In kudzu, growing with vines toward the cows or the wild face working over
A virgin, swarming like gnats or the grass of the west field, bending
East, to sweep into bags and turn brown or shall He rise, white on white,
From Nickajack Creek as a road? The barn creaks like an Ark beasts
Smell everywhere the streams drawn out by their souls the flood-
sigh of grass in the spring they shall be saved they know as she screams
Of sin as the weasel stares the hog strains toward the woods
That hold its primeval powers:
Often a girl in the country will find herself
Dancing with God in a mule's eye, twilight drifting in straws from the dark
Overhead of hay cows working their sprained jaws sideways at the hour
Of night all things are called: when gnats in their own midst and fury
Of swarming-time, crowd into the barn their sixty-year day consumed
In this sunset die in a great face of light that swarms and screams
Of love.

Click here

Sites:

Click here

Bonus Poem:

Accepted

You are no longer young,
Nor are you very old.
There are homes where those belong.
You know you do not fit
When you observe the cold
Stares of those who sit

In bath-chairs or the park
(A stick, then, at their side)
Or find yourself in the dark
And see the lovers who,
In love and in their stride,
Don't even notice you.

This is a time to begin
Your life. It could be new.
The sheer not fitting in
With the old who envy you
And the young who want to win,
Not knowing false from true,

Means you have liberty
Denied to their extremes.
At last now you can be
What the old cannot recall
And the young long for in dreams,
Yet still include them all.

by Elizabeth Jennings

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