Seated Scribes Feb 23 2014 hosted by Severina and RedGoddess(talkwithmarie)

Tags

, , , , ,

Every Sunday 2pm SLT (5pm EST) at the Four Bridges in Second Life, Seated Scribes takes place. It is an oppourtunity for writers to share their compositions and discuss in a small group setting the meaning and inspiration for their write as well as receive feedback on the structure of their piece.

Come check us out!

 

 

Advertisements

Severina and RedGoddess(TalkwithMarie) host Fire Pit, Music Island 7am SLT

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , ,

RedGoddess and I hosted the fire pit open mic poetry and written word event. We gathered around a warm fire by the ocean on Music Island, managed by Kate Miranda, Creative Arts Director Music Island. Writers from Canada, United States, Spain, Australia, Georgia and United Kingdom gathered and shared personal poetry and excerpts from novels or poetry they were passionate about.

Come by every last Saturday of the Month 7am slt. See you in second life!

New Year’s Day BY KIM ADDONIZIO

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , ,

New Year’s Day

BY KIM ADDONIZIO

The rain this morning falls   
on the last of the snow

and will wash it away. I can smell   
the grass again, and the torn leaves

being eased down into the mud.   
The few loves I’ve been allowed

to keep are still sleeping
on the West Coast. Here in Virginia

I walk across the fields with only   
a few young cows for company.

Big-boned and shy,
they are like girls I remember

from junior high, who never   
spoke, who kept their heads

lowered and their arms crossed against   
their new breasts. Those girls

are nearly forty now. Like me,   
they must sometimes stand

at a window late at night, looking out   
on a silent backyard, at one

rusting lawn chair and the sheer walls   
of other people’s houses.

They must lie down some afternoons   
and cry hard for whoever used

to make them happiest,   
and wonder how their lives

have carried them
this far without ever once

explaining anything. I don’t know   
why I’m walking out here

with my coat darkening
and my boots sinking in, coming up

with a mild sucking sound   
I like to hear. I don’t care

where those girls are now.   
Whatever they’ve made of it

they can have. Today I want   
to resolve nothing.

I only want to walk
a little longer in the cold

blessing of the rain,   
and lift my face to it.

Snap Dragon by Severina Halostar and Bonchance Longfall

Tags

, , , , , , ,

I bought a pretty dragon flower as company for my cat
Hoping it to be comfort as my furry friend napped.
She grew in a pot, upon the sill of my second story flat,
But every time I tried to water her, that brat would always snap!

My precious flower needed water so I had to solve this puzzle,
the solution came to me, to get my dragon lady a muzzle!

It became a sulky dragon with its head now hanging low
but I can’t have snappy behavior as dragons need to know!

Now it may be imagination but I caught my dragon staring
at my curled up little kitty whose fur was in need of repairing.
I consider my flower sophisticated, not at all barbarian
but now I think I should check to see if my dragon is vegetarian.

Where I Dwell by Severina Halostar & Bonchance Longfall

Where I dwell
the sun shall shine.
Meadow’d springs, and summer dells,
are comforting quarters of mine.

Where I dwell
morning birds, are my wake up calls,
and bright rooms shall have no walls,
there are windows at every turn.
and fevered warmth shall always burn.

Where I dwell
candles tapered, shall be lit
placed right for reading, where I sit..
The sun and moon shall supplement,
in times when flames are past spent.

Where I dwell
tones on tones, brilliantly unite,
beauty within, yet still in sight.
Forever shall this dwelling endure,
founded in temples of love secure.
I dwell here ’til I’m heaven bound,
then found among my resting mound,
kindred spirits gathered round.

I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings By Maya Angelou

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings

The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hillfor the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

 

 

Maya Angelou

Autumn Song by Sarojini Naidu

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

Autumn Song

Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow,
   The sunset hangs on a cloud;
A golden storm of glittering sheaves,
Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves,
   The wild wind blows in a cloud.

Hark to a voice that is calling
   To my heart in the voice of the wind:
My heart is weary and sad and alone,
For its dreams like the fluttering leaves have gone,
   And why should I stay behind? 

Sarojini Naidu

Lie-Awake Song a favourite poem of Sevi

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , ,

Lie-Awake Song

God has a house three streets away, 
And every Sunday, rain or shine, 
My nurse goes there her prayers to say. 
She’s told me of the candles fine 
That, burning all night long, they keep 
Because God never goes to sleep. 
Then there’s a steeple full of bells, 
All through the dark the time it tells. 
I like to hear it in the night 
And think about those candles bright. 
I wonder if God stays awake 
For kindness, like the Furnace-man 
Who comes before it’s day, to make 
Our house as pleasant as he can… 
I like to watch the sky grow blue, 
And think perhaps, the whole world through, 
No one’s awake but just us three— 
God, and the Furnace-man, and me. 

Amelia Josephine Burr