Writing Unleashed with Laura M. Harkins

Source Music fills in the empty spaces inside me. One of my all-time favorite songwriters, Billy Corgan, always knows what to say.  Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness grabbed hold of me so tight, I never returned the borrowed 2-Disc set to my friend back in 9th grade. It's still in my cd collection. My adoration for Corgan goes beyond his music and lyrics to his poetry. My copy of Blinking with Fists went missing for about six months only to find it at the bottom of a pile of books on my nightstand. Scatterbrained am I. So, as a tribute to him I would like to share one of his poems from the collection on this warm, sunny Sunday. on the maypole billy corgan around the maypole with childish eye rushing thru autumn days wrapping blankets around frames wishing in the sky no matter where you stand you stand here with me missing simple times mixing blood with rose oil we are leaving too soon to make new friends we shall not remember

News Source An Inspirational Montana Poet Laureate Kristen Inbody writes about Sheryl Noethe , Montana’s new poet laureate and her amazing work with the Missoula Writing Collaborative. The non-profit organization provides under privileged students trained writing professionals to inspire their creativity and encourage self-expression through written and spoken word. Do you think all schools could benefit from this kind of teaching? Source Interview with Haruki Murakami Enjoy Haruki Murakami’s interview as The New Yorker’s fiction editor discusses his novel 1Q84 (hitting U.S. shelves in late October) and the excerpt, “Town of Cats,” available online and in print. The setting of 1Q84 is 1984, and Murakami struggled with the lack of technology. Have you faced similar challenges when dealing with settings in your stories ?     Source Poetry Fighting Back Seth Abramson from Huffington Post lists 10-poetry mus...

News Source Romance Novels Dangerous? Alison Flood reports on author and psychologist Susan Quilliam’s statement about the affect romance novels have on her clients’ unrealistic view of love . Quilliam believes the women get wrapped up in the romantic fiction and struggle to distinguish between fantasy and reality.    Do you think a romance novel can really alter a reader’s perspective of love in the real world? Source Chatting with Beverly Clearly Rachel Brown interviews beloved author Beverly Clearly at age 95 . Clearly talks about writing children’s literature, balancing her family life with her writing career and her two published memoirs. If you could, which of your favorite author’s as a child would you like to interview?     Bringing Poetry and Painting Together Take a look at 11 slides of the art collaboration between poet Edward Mayes and painter Alberto Alfonso . The two men combined provocative first-line titl...

Today, I want to share Born Magazine with you. The blurb from their website below does better than I ever could to explain their initiative.  Born is an all-volunteer project that brings together writers, artists, and others from diverse fields to create storytelling artworks. Our name reflects the creative process nurtured by collaboration and the bringing together of traditional and new forms of art and literature, diverse media, and emerging technologies. As a 501(c)3 non-profit organization, Born is dedicated to the emergence and continuing evolution of art forms that bring together different creative genres. So, take a moment out of your busy Saturday to feast your eyes and ears on the smash-up of Paul Gibbons's poem and Dyon-Rivest's film titled   Like Wings Abandoned from Some Future Score .   Born Magazine

jazzagemusic.blogspot.com Ah! Sweet Mystery of Life By Rida Johnson Young AH! sweet mystery of life, at last I've found thee; Ah! I know at last the secret of it all; All the longing, striving, seeking, waiting, yearning, The burning hopes, the joys and idle tears that fall! For 'tis love, and love alone, the world is seeking; And it's love, and love alone, that can reply; 'Tis the answer, ti's the end and all of living, For it is love alone that rules for aye!

famouspoetsandpoems.com Dreamers Seigfried Sassoon 
 S OLDIERS are citizens of death's gray land, 
 Drawing no dividend from time's to-morrows. 
 In the great hour of destiny they stand, 
Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows. 
 Soldiers are sworn to action; they must win 
Some flaming, fatal climax with their lives. 
 Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin 
 They think of firelit homes, clean beds, and wives. 

 I see them in foul dug-outs, gnawed by rats, 
 And in the ruined trenches, lashed with rain, 
 Dreaming of things they did with balls and bats, 
 And mocked by hopeless longing to regain 
 Bank-holidays, and picture shows, and spats, 
 And going to the office in the train. 



burnhamplan100.uchicago.edu On the Train By Harriet Monroe          I THE lady in front of me in the car, With little red coils close over her ears, Is talking with her friend; And the circle of ostrich foam around her hat, Curving over like a wave, Trembles with her little windy words. What she is saying, I wonder, That her feathers should tremble And the soft fur of her coat should slip down over her shoulders? Has her string of pearls been stolen, Or maybe her husband?            II He is drunk, that man -- Drunk as a lord, a lord of the bibulous past.             [sic] He shouts wittily from his end of the car to the man in the corner; He bows to me with chivalrous apologies. He philosophizes, plays with the wisdom of the ages, Flings off his rags, Displays his naked soul -- Athletic, beautiful, grotesque. In the good time ...

Body of A Woman Body of a woman, white hills, white thighs, you look like a world, lying in surrender. My rough peasant's body digs in you  and makes the son leap from the depth of the earth. I was alone like a tunnel.  The birds fled from me, and night swamped me with its crushing invasion. To survive myself I forged you like a weapon, like an arrow in my bow, a stone in my sling. But the hour of vengeance falls, and I love you. Body of skin, of moss, of eager and firm milk. Oh the goblets of the breast! Oh the eyes of absence! Oh the roses of the pubis! Oh your voice, slow and sad! Body of my woman, I will persist in your grace. My thirst, my boundless desire, my shifting road!  Dark river-beds where the eternal thirst flows and weariness follows, and the infinite ache.  

Today's poem comes from Anne Sexton.  The first time I read "The Ballad of the Lonely Masturbator" I was a sophomore at Penn State in my Women's Studies class with Dr. Lucy Morrison.  Hands down one of my favorite teachers of all time. Reading and analyzing this poem was a lot of fun.  I can't remember doing much of that in high school, but who can say, I slept a lot.  Unfortunately, an outraged mother had the poem removed from the syllabus due to the sexual content.  I can understand the inappropriateness in a high school classroom, but college?  Really?  Well, I'm not a fan of censorship.  So, feast your brain on this!         The Ballad of the Lonely Masturbator By Anne Sexton The end of the affair is always death. She's my workshop. Slippery eye, out of the tribe of myself my breath finds you gone. I horrify those who stand by. I am fed. At night, alone, I marry the bed. Finger to finger, now she's mine. ...