A Poem for You: A Prayer for My People


A Prayer for My People BY MATTHEW SHENODA That one day we will wish to be nothing more than what we are. That we will see within ourselves the liberation of nations, of concrete. That we will understand the inevitability in the lines of our hands.            There is a war raging in our backyard            With it my sister's spirit burns That the fire of my sister's spirit will consume our enemies & burn our streets clean.            There's a system of mangled necks           [...]

A Poem for You: A Prayer for My People2021-09-16T16:54:44-04:00

A Poem for You: Blue Elvis


Blue Elvis BY FAITH SHEARIN It was August 1977 when Elvis Presley fell face down on his Graceland bathroom floor; by the time paramedics arrived, he was cold and blue. I knew this because I was with my grandmother, Belle, who called her sister, Geraldine, who came over at once so we could watch the news. My grandmother knew Elvis liked peanut butter on white bread with American cheese, eaten in his jungle room which had Tiki chairs, fur lampshades, a waterfall. Other neighbors arrived: women in short skirts, women who brought with them more of the food Elvis loved: coconut cakes, [...]

A Poem for You: Blue Elvis2021-09-16T16:50:58-04:00

A Poem for You: Song of Myself, 51


Song of Myself, 51 by Walt Whitman The past and present wilt—I have fill'd them, emptied them. And proceed to fill my next fold of the future. Listener up there! what have you to confide to me? Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening, (Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.) Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes.) I concentrate toward them that are nigh, I wait on the door-slab. Who has done his day's work? who will soonest be through with his [...]

A Poem for You: Song of Myself, 512021-09-16T16:46:15-04:00

A Poem for You: My Heart Leaps Up


My Heart Leaps Up by William Wordsworth My heart leaps up when I behold     A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began;  So is it now I am a man;  So be it when I shall grow old,     Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.

A Poem for You: My Heart Leaps Up2021-09-16T12:44:54-04:00

Writing Less, Not More


Writing Less, Not More   A question that faces all wordsmiths is how much to write about a subject. In the absence of a fixed word count, or at least a template, and without the spatial constraints imposed by paper-based communications, we are left to draw our own boundaries. And more often than not, they are too generous. Yes, we sometime write less than circumstances warrant, but most writers generate too many words for the comfort of their readers, not too few. There are several reasons why writing with restraint is more challenging than writing with abandon, reasons that must be [...]

Writing Less, Not More2021-09-30T13:37:39-04:00

Everyone is Welcome!


Everyone is Welcome! Though we may dread yet another meeting in front of our computer screens these days, our move to connecting with each other via Zoom and other video conferencing platforms has had at least one silver lining: accessibility. Princeton University is committed to providing a welcoming and inclusive environment that is welcoming, accessible, engaging, and exciting to all participants and viewers. Keep this guidance and these best practices in mind as you create presentations to make your events and videos accessible to people with permanent or temporary disabilities. Many of these practices will benefit all viewers! Captioning Princeton University’s [...]

Everyone is Welcome!2021-04-06T13:30:01-04:00

A Poem for to you: It Doesn’t Take Much


It Doesn't Take Much Margaret Gibson On my front door stone, a dead frog. It’s stretched out long, its slender legs a mottled green, its belly cream white, a blossom of blood on the stone. How did it get here? Why did it die? It doesn’t take much to make me see how little I know about the simplest things. I’ll tell you stories, of course— that it was possibly a fisher cat, or more likely was dropped, accidentally by an owl or a startled hawk, or a heron. Or is the dead frog an ambassador sent from the wetland world? [...]

A Poem for to you: It Doesn’t Take Much2021-01-27T15:12:44-05:00

A Poem for You: Undoing


Undoing Khadijah Queen In winter traffic, fog of midday shoves toward our machines—snow eclipses the mountainscapes I drive toward, keeping time against the urge to quit moving. I refuse to not know how not to, wrestling out loud to music, as hovering me—automatic engine, watching miles of sky on the fall—loves such undoing, secretly, adding fuel to what undoes the ozone, the endless nothing manifested as sinkholes under permafrost. Refusal, indecision—an arctic undoing of us, interrupting cascades— icy existences. I cannot drive through.

A Poem for You: Undoing2021-01-21T13:42:59-05:00

A Poem for You: On the Pulse of Morning


On the Pulse of Morning Maya Angelou  A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since departed, Marked the mastodon, The dinosaur, who left dried tokens Of their sojourn here On our planet floor, Any broad alarm of their hastening doom Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages. But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully, Come, you may stand upon my Back and face your distant destiny, But seek no haven in my shadow. I will give you no hiding place down here. You, created only a little lower than The angels, have crouched [...]

A Poem for You: On the Pulse of Morning2021-01-21T13:38:51-05:00

Word of the Week: provender (PRŎV-ən-dər)


provender (PRŎV-ən-dər) Definition (Noun) Food, provisions; (in early use especially) dry food, as hay, oats, etc., for horses or cattle; fodder, forage. In Context "The troops supplemented their provender by hunting, fishing, and gardening." James S. Robbins, The Real Custer: From Boy General to Tragic Hero, 2014.

Word of the Week: provender (PRŎV-ən-dər)2020-12-14T14:03:09-05:00
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