Strafford zNotes, 27 January, 2013 (news) with Chip Bergeron on AuthorsDen

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Strafford zNotes, 27 January, 2013
Sunday, January 27, 2013 9:58:00 AM

by Chip Bergeron

Poetry

Poetry doesn't take a Sunday off.....

Jan 27

Events:

January 27 Jamaica Plain, MA at 2pm: Carpenter Poets
with special guest Sam Cornish, Boston's Poet Laureate $5

Forsyth Chapel 95 Forest Hills Ave Jamaica Plain, MA 02130-3714
Click here

Born:

0127

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(Johann Chrysostom) Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, (1756- – Click here/1791 ).Austrian Composer Figaro)

Click here

Click hereClick here Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, (1832 – Click here/1898) English logician, mathematician, and novelist-writer(Alice in Wonderland)

Click here

Click here, (1885- November

11, 1945) ) US songwriter , journalist and composer of Click here (Showboat, Roberta)

Click here

Ilya Ehrenburg (1891-Aug 31 1967) Russian Jew, writer and journalist( Fall of Paris, The Thaw)

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Madame Click here, Soong Ch'ing-ling (1893 – 29 May 1981), amongst Click here's most significant political figures of the early 20th century

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Elmore James (1918, - 24th May 1963.) US blues guitarist, singer,’ King of the Slide Guitar’; (Dust My Broom) wrote 'Shake Your Money Maker', Influenced Jimi Hendrix, B.B. King and Keith Richards.

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David Seville [Ross Bagdasarian], 1919-Jan 16,1972 songwriter (Alvin & Chipmunks) The Chipmunks 1958 US No.1 single 'The Chipmunk Song'

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D[onald] M[ichael] Thomas (1935- ) English novelist, Click here, and Click here.
Click here

Extract from Yevgeni Onegin

XLVII
Yet happiness was so possible…
So close!... But now my fate
Is fixed. I think I was not fully…
Mindful… until it seemed too late.
Everyone urged it, mama pleaded,
Her tears kept falling, and for me I
Felt that all lots would be the same…
And so I married. Now it’s time,
You have to leave me now, I beg you;
I know that in your heart reside
A true nobility and pride.
I love you (why should I dissemble?),
But I am someone else’s wife;
I shall be true to him all my life.’

-Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin

-Translation by Click here

Click here

Passed:

0127

Click here, (1785 -1851) naturalist, conservationist (Audubon Society),

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Click hereClick here (Click here/1918 –2004) US comic, TV host (Tonight Show)
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Click here Click here (Click here/1932 –2009) US writer

Click here

Perfection Wasted

And another regrettable thing about death
is the ceasing of your own brand of magic,
which took a whole life to develop and market —
the quips, the witticisms, the slant
adjusted to a few, those loved ones nearest
the lip of the stage, their soft faces blanched
in the footlight glow, their laughter close to tears,
their tears confused with their diamond earrings,
their warm pooled breath in and out with your heartbeat,
their response and your performance twinned.
The jokes over the phone. The memories packed
in the rapid-access file. The whole act.
Who will do it again? That's it: no one;
imitators and descendants aren't the same.

Click here

Click hereClick here (Click here/1919 –2010) US writer

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Sites:

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History:

0127

1302, Dante Alighieri was expelled from Florence when a group he opposed, the ‘Black Guelphs,’ seized control of the city.

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1722 Daniel Defoe published Moll Flanders

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1958, Little Richard entered The Oakwood Theological College in Huntsville, where he was ordained as a seventh day Adventist Minister.

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1973, the United States and 3 other parties (South Vietnam, North Vietnam, and the Viet Cong’s Provisional announced peace deal

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Bonus Poem:

Ash Grove of Ash

Shriver, shadow, shade for good and ill,
you bend divulging branches. You stand clear
with narrow waist, clean-shirted. You nod, hearing.
You shelter me, too. You gather crossed blond quills
of saplings into fis

ts, binding their violent
crouch and spring. You bathe taut knots, embalmer.
Now cool prevails on your pale green leaves, and calm
steeps your roots, quenching their crooked silence.
I see you are not mine, but reservoir
beneath the grove, distiller of rot, bog, bracken,
broken trees, the clear-cut past, its dying
brush that scudded like cut hair at your drying
channels, your wandering arms — come back, come back,
my root voice creaks of thirst, like a long shut door

- Julie Sheehan

. Click here

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