All posts filed under: Poetry

Reflections: Gothic Halloween in Poetry

10.31.18 Hello everyone! Last day of October, how about some poetry? Again? Yes, again, but this time with some gothic themes to it. Here are three to read…   Ravenna by Oscar Wilde (Newdigate prize poem recited in the Sheldonian Theatre Oxford June 26th, 1878. To my friend George Fleming author of ‘The Nile Novel’ and ‘Mirage’) I. A year ago I breathed the Italian air, – And yet, methinks this northern Spring is fair,- These fields made golden with the flower of March, The throstle singing on the feathered larch, The cawing rooks, the wood-doves fluttering by, The little clouds that race across the sky; And fair the violet’s gentle drooping head, The primrose, pale for love uncomforted, The rose that burgeons on the climbing briar, The crocus-bed, (that seems a moon of fire Round-girdled with a purple marriage-ring); And all the flowers of our English Spring, Fond snowdrops, and the bright-starred daffodil. Up starts the lark beside the murmuring mill, And breaks the gossamer-threads of early dew; And down the river, like a flame …

MidWeek Update: Come Unity Sessions

9. 5. 18 One last post for today…If you’re in the New York City area or you live in NYC, come to  Come Unity Sessions. What is Come Unity Sessions? “A space for musicians, artists, & poets of NYC.” I came across them on their Instagram account and have been a follower ever since. They have an event coming this Saturday. COME UNITY SESSIONS MUSIC ART POETRY SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 2018 AVE C & E 5TH ST. NYC 7PM $10   If you like some great art, listen to good music, and love poetry, this is it! Also if you would like to display your art, or if you’re a musician, or a poet, and have Instagram, then please follow and DM for spots for your art or performance. Have a great Hump Wednesday, be blessed! Till Saturday!   Image source:  

Spotlight: African-Americans In Art

February 9, 2015 Happy Monday, if you love Mondays….Today I have a collection of  artists, poets and writers. I decided to mix things up a bit. These chosen seven have each put their stamp in the art world, creating and weaving their own vision. Each of these videos gives a glimpse of what their work is all about.   Deborah Willis       Zora Neale Hurston       Minnie Evans       Paul Laurence Dunbar         Sam Gilliam           Emory Douglas (this is a three-part discussion)         Lorna Simpson (three-part discussion)     I hope you enjoyed this list of Spotlight talents. Come back this Saturday as we focus on Kara Walker. Be bless and enjoy your Monday! featured image by Sam Gilliam, Last September IV (1973)  

Black History Poetry: Still I Rise by Maya Angelou

February 7, 2015 Good Morning. As promised Shadowbox is getting all the art, illustrations, poems, and short stories to share with you from celebrated African-Americans, since this is Black History Month. Today we have the most poignant poem written by Maya Angelou. Enjoy the rest of your weekend and be blessed always. Still I Rise Maya Angelou, 1928 – 2014 You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise. Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? ‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells Pumping in my living room. Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I’ll rise. Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries? Does my haughtiness offend you? Don’t you take it awful hard ‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines Diggin’ in my own backyard. …


October 3, 2014 Hello dearies….every Friday of this month, Esquisses is posting illustrations, stories and poems that will either delight or make your hair stand on end. First up we have Edgar Allen Poe‘s infamous The Raven. One of my favorite poems. featured image courtesy of   The Raven By Edgar Allen Poe Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—     While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “’Tis some visiter,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—             Only this and nothing more.”     Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.     Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow     From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore— For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—             Nameless here for evermore.     And the silken, …