It’s been ages since I wrote my newsletter and I did read Andrea’s blog (hi Andrea) a few weeks back which included her comment that she missed the weekly newsletter.
My apologies to one and all. I was a delusional mother, under the ridiculous assumption that things were going to get easier. LOL. Well, I THINK they will, come September, when my four year old monkey-girl goes to Junior Kindergarten (full time, here in Ontario, Canada).
So, I can’t guarantee a regular newsletter until then, but I will occasionally slap together a blog over the summer months.
Now, those who have read my newsletter know it is usually theme driven, and that I find two or more new poets on soup and feature their poems, some quotes, some thoughts on the language of poetry and its inner workings.
Well, I can’t do that today, but LOOKIE WHAT I FOUND.
If you haven’t checked out this fantastic poet, please do so asap/
This guy ROCKS--- language, meter, voice, tone, imagery... I’m dazzled.
Please, welcome Mustopha Mohammed to the soup mix.
The Disable Boy
By Mustapha Mohammed
His knees trembled in the slippery cold
Beside the benches dressed with leaves
Mother was coming,yes so he's been told
To wait in an hour by the dripping trees.
Where the bluejay sang his evening hymn
In the light red blowing of the weary breeze
So he waited hours till the skies turned dim
When the moon hanged idly upon the trees.
But not a sight of her in the blue distance
So he glided across the glass of the snow
To the narrow path of the park's entrance
Where the last velvet hues gently blows.
His heart alarmed the sad tune of despair
He was reminded of his lifelong infirmity
Strolling sadly by on the wheels of a chair
He feared bitter a death in this vast vanity.
He felt on his shoulders a warm embrace
Thawing his fears was her loving face.
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KEEP IT ABOVE THE BELT, THOUGH...
HOW ARE YOU???