Celebrating National Poetry Month 2008 Internationally at CTI

[Aberjhani]

[Aberjhani]

Attachments presented with this post include a colorful newsletter on celebrations of Jazz in April as well pdf downloads of the National Poetry Month poster and the logo for the NPM's first Poem in Your Pocket Day scheduled for April 17.

CTI Admin

[Marne L. Kilates]

Hi Aberjhani,

Here's one of my favorite poems, by W.H. Auden.

Marne

Lay your sleeping head, my love

Lay your sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm;
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children, and the grave
Proves the child ephemeral:
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful.

Soul and body have no bounds:
To lovers as they lie upon
Her tolerant enchanted slope
In their ordinary swoon,
Grave the vision Venus sends
Of supernatural sympathy,
Universal love and hope;
While an abstract insight wakes
Among the glaciers and the rocks
The hermit's sensual ecstasy.

Certainty, fidelity
On the stroke of midnight pass
Like vibrations of a bell,
And fashionable madmen raise
Their pedantic boring cry:
Every farthing of the cost,
All the dreaded cards foretell,
Shall be paid, but from this night
Not a whisper, not a thought,
Not a kiss nor look be lost.

Beauty, midnight, vision dies:
Let the winds of dawn that blow
Softly round your dreaming head
Such a day of sweetness show
Eye and knocking heart may bless,
Find the mortal world enough;
Noons of dryness see you fed
By the involuntary powers,
Nights of insult let you pass
Watched by every human love.

W.H.Auden

(Photos from Getty Images; Iran-Iraq War Archive)

[Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU]

As we celebrate our National Poetry Month, we also celebrate and honor all Poets around the globe.

Healthy Creative Life through a blissful living to all Poets.

Our gratitude to Poet Marne L. Kilates for adding value to Poetry.

In respect and admiration,

Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU

[Michael C.Jones]

This poem is magnificent, it takes you to places you have never been and invites you to places waiting to be explored and the pulse of the universe and its rhythm beat off love. Peace!!!

[Marne L. Kilates]

Yes, Michael,

Truly magnificent! Poetry, it has been said, takes language to its highest level, which is humble prayer.

Thank you,
Marne

[Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU]

Salutations and Benisons to all that may read this.

Celebrating the NATIONAL POETRY MONTH, it pleases me to post one of my favorite pieces:

"TO ASCLEPIUS SON OF APOLLO”


Asclepius... Mighty Patron of Medical-Army,
I was trained by Hippocrates on the great priesthood...
Loyal to mission... Time I have none for free leisure;
My days are engaged on healing the human’s soma.

As Your medical pupil – functions in my art –
Are followed by my oath... I will never collapse...
I diagnose... apply curing pharmacopeia
With my earthly skills put... but I need to do better!

In my position I do what science provides;
That’s my reason... I ask Your resurrection’s gift...
An unction will empower me to heal mankind!

Oh, Physician Supreme – focus Your healthy ray
On Erato’s interpreters, writers and Poets –
To revive them cured... Free from diseases of man!


By Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU

Gratefully,

Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU

Email:
[e-mail]

[Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU]

Twilight of times past
by Georg Edvard Mateos
Thursday, April 17, 2008
http://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewPoetry.asp?id=222858&Author...


I am a lost soldier in the twilights of times past,
when the Liberty Bell got a bullet in that war
I wish I was there but in my destiny was written
that I should be a soldier when brothers fought.

I couldn’t die, and if I did…why I am still here?
still riding by Savannah a battle-seasoned horse,
wearing the gray Colonel uniform with braids,
and on my side the scabbard holding my sword.

Wandering for hundred and thirty seven years,
I haven’t see no peace for the sons of my sons,
generations of offering mothers with broken hearts
starting with the bombastically War to end all Wars.

In Normandy’s Omaha beach a wave of my boys
only twenty-six years after from the first one it took,
to make more widows and desperate waiting mothers
in what they proudly called the Second World War.

Bleeding in Korea for some obscure reasons were
the children of my children’s children there lost,
among the promised youth, the tomorrow seeds
to “give” us a more free and perhaps a better world.

Jungles of Vietnam, went looking for grandchildren
that were sent there because the “falling” dominoes,
over fifty-six thousand of hearts so full of illusions
one by one for ever stopping in that forsaken land I saw.

A soldier that is lost in conflicts of times past twilights,
ask one old Colonel wearing gray embroidered with gold,
why the children of my children’s children had no peace,
when the fields should be full of wheat and of death not.

I wish to go back to the magnolia trees alleys of yesterday,
where a southern belle by the Santee river gave me love
to last forever, but now, utterly alone, I am wandering
on a land that was, of gentlemen with honor on their words.

Twilights of times past, please don’t send
more of my children to fight your wars.