Double-Stacked Bookshelves

We're coming in to the homestrech of the A-Z Blogging Challenge and it's time for one of the most difficult letters of the alphabet...that pesky X.  Here's my solution: The X in My Name (1993) the poor signature of my illiterate and peasant self giving away all rights in a deceiving contract for life Francisco X. Alarcon...brilliant. An interview with Fransisco X. Alarcon for Colorin Colorado where he discusses his cultural heritage and how it shaped his poetry.  It's long, but good. TGIF fellow A-Zers...remember whe that was good television?! 

"Richard Cory" by Edwin Arlington Robinson accomplishes two things; 1) it knocks out the letter R for the A-Z Challenge and 2) it falls under Poetry Fridays.  Sweet!  So, without further ado, here ya go: "Richard Cory"   (1897) Whenever Richard Cory went down town, We people on the pavement looked at him: He was a gentleman from sole to crown, Clean favored, and imperially slim. And he was always quietly arrayed, And he was always human when he talked; But still he fluttered pulses when he said, "Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked. And he was rich--yes, richer than a king-- And admirably schooled in every grace: In fine, we thought that he was everything To make us wish that we were in his place. So on we worked, and waited for the light, And went without the meat, and cursed the bread; And Richard Cory, one calm summer night, Went home and put a bullet through his head. I love this poem for severa...

"L"obbing stones to decimate two birds today: Poetry Fridays and the letter L. Jabberwocky (1855) 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves    Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves,    And the mome raths outgrabe. "Beware the Jabberwock, my son    The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun    The frumious Bandersnatch!" He took his vorpal sword in hand;    Long time the manxome foe he sought— So rested he by the Tumtum tree,    And stood awhile in thought. And, as in uffish thought he stood,    The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,    And burbled as it came! One, two! One, two! And through and through    The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head    He went galumphing back. "And hast thou slain the Jabberwock...

It's Friday and that means two things: 1) It's Poetry Friday and 2) It's the day of the letter F.  Normally I would post a poem by a poet that I rather enjoy but, to fit the letter theme, I went with a poem that begins with today's designated letter.  First Poem For You (1994) I like to touch your tattoos in complete darkness, when I can’t see them. I’m sure of where they are, know by heart the neat lines of lightning pulsing just above your nipple, can find, as if by instinct, the blue swirls of water on your shoulder where a serpent twists, facing a dragon. When I pull you to me, taking you until we’re spent and quiet on the sheets, I love to kiss the pictures in your skin. They’ll last until you’re seared to ashes; whatever persists or turns to pain between us, they will still be there. Such permanence is terrifying. So I touch them in the dark; but touch them, trying.     This contemporary Shakespearean sonnet by Kim Addonizio is beautifully done.  ...

Leda and the Swan   (1928) A sudden blow: the great wings beating still Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill, He holds her helpless breast upon his breast. How can those terrified vague fingers push The feathered glory from her loosening thights? And how can body, laid in that white rush, But feel the strange heart beating where it lies? A shudder in the loins engenders there The broken wall, the burning roof and tower And Agamemnon dead.                                  Being caught up, So mastered by the brute blood of the air, Did she put on his knowledge with is power Before the indifferent beak could let her drop? When I first read this poem as an undergrad in college, I was shocked and in awe of how brilliant William Butler Yeats was....

Dulce et Decorum Est Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep.  Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod.  All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind. Gas!  Gas!  Quick, boys!--An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; But someone still was yelling out and stumbling And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime... Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,  As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin; If you...

"Poetry is the kind of thing poets write." ~Robert Frost~ Another great meme has been brought to my attention recently and I think it's fitting that I should participate.  This meme, Poetry Fridays, was started by The Thoughts of a Book Junky , a great blog that I've been following for about a year now.  The premise of the meme is pretty much how it sounds.  Every Friday those participating would post a poem that they particularly enjoy in order to expose people to poetry they might not generally encounter.  I love this for several reasons.  One, for the past two Winter terms I have had the pleasure of teaching Introduction to Poetry, where I am able to expose students to poets and poetry that they have never encountered before; some students having never encountered poetry at all.  Two, I happen to really enjoy poetry.  And three, I like that I can include poetry through this medium that isn't necessarily applicable to the introductory level classroo...