Poe's Table

Sonate #5 in G Major, K283, Mozart

Nel Progresso

After Van Gogh

Starry Night is definitely a work in progress. I’ve been dabbling on its canvas for (I’m embarrassed to say) three years now. I was fortunate to see the genuine Starry Night in person at The Museum of Modern Art in New York and not one of the art books I’ve been copying from does it justice. With renewed vigor I have taken up my paint brush! With a blessing from Van Gogh himself, my completed version of Starry Night will hang on my wall and be posted on the blog soon.

Poems on Whitman

One Grand, Ringing Voice
Evelyn

Zest, like no other,
For books of all kinds
Entranced in museums
Eager for conversation

A printer’s apprentice
Witnessing ideas unfurling into words
On paper with ink and bold writing
Reaching out to people far and wide

Ecstatic emotions erupt
When laying eyes upon
His first published piece
Staring back at him from the page

Matured in his years
He wrote what he felt
Of the life and events
Rapidly spinning about him

Hastily discarding
Rhyme and meter
Free to jot images
Plain and fanciful alike

Heart in hand, out of his pocket
Came “Leaves of Grass”
Jubilation on July fourth, 1855
An everlasting gift to America

Civil war—
Rips and tears a nation
Young souls lay dying in white sheets
No war could harm
This aged man’s steadfast love

Giver of small gifts
Slipping spoons of food into
Helpless mouths here and there
Comforter to weary spirits

On his way to meager pay
A glance up and a bowed head
Giving respect unto his captain Lincoln
Pass in the morning—
A pair of heavy hearted Americans

“Drum Taps” born
From realizations of wartime
“Oh captain! My captain!”—
Whitman mourns
Likewise we mourn

Inspirational
Resounding
Ringing throughout the nation
One of a kind
Influential
In and after his time--—
Dear old
Walt Whitman





Changing
By Hannah


Changing the face
of poetry forever

With words
Free and flowing
Never to return

Grey-Blue war sent him
Searching, Searching, Searching

Helping poor dying souls
Have a bit of sunshine
In an hour of need

“O Captain, My Captain”
his fearful trip now done
horrific yet victorious

Poems pouring out
Thence and evermore

Endlessly,
Walt Whitman.

Poems on Frost

intrepid wanderings
by Hannah

city born
rural life

cloudy days
a lone man walks

snow beneath his shoes
wind rushing in his mind

composing expressions
scenes of his America

words pulling in an
eastern direction

frost wrote poems

that speak of everyone
everytime and everywhere

Frost spoke
brave and true

passing through time
poems continue to speak.





Steady Soul
By Evelyn

Early on at home
Learning began
Standard schooling was
Not young Robert’s cup of tea

Years went by
Education, teaching, marriage
Silent poems flowing fourth
Published all the while
A spring of inspiration

Images of sorrow
Swirl through my head
As I think upon
The poet’s life
Of tragedy, of death,
Of sickness and pain
Springing from unexpected corners

Through it all
Mighty perseverance
Spurred him on
An unceasing aptitude
For capturing simple splendor
And shaping it into words
Has yet to die


Artist of language,
Craftsman of words
Arouses our souls
Will live on forever

Winter frost
Envelopes the landscape
Chill so cruel it stings
Soon sun will shine
Melting all ice away
A single blossom lingers
It has survived the freeze

Inspired By Frost and Whitman's Roads

Brook
By Evelyn

Weaving in and out
Through trees dancing in the wind
A silence broken in the forest
By the babbling of a brook—
A Spluttering
Gurgling
Laughing brook

Berry bushes skim the surface
Swimmers frolic in the depths
Sending waves
Of carefree clear water
Over its carpeted banks

Though cars speed past
On a road not far away
This brook forges its way ahead
Sometimes trickling
Other times rushing
Towards its ultimate goal--
The sea

Sharp stones
Hinder its movement
A man walks beside this brook
Clearing away debris
Spurring timid water onward

Roaring past in winter
Hastening throughout spring
Lazily flowing by
When days are long and hot
Then shaded by glowing red leaves

No matter what the rate
Her water does not cease to flow
On and on it goes
Towards the sea
Journeying for Thee

Keep up your babbling
Go ahead and gurgle
Let your laughing continue forever
Through the forest of whispering trees
I journey on




undisturbed.
by Hannah Bredberg


silence reigns
in the enticing room at the top of the tower
where books are piled to the ceiling
stretching as high as the eye can see

I am swallowed by a deep chair
nurtured by a roaring fire
turning page after page
getting lost in enchanting tales

Regarding Mozart

When I began to learn Sonata 5, by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, six months ago I had no idea that it would take this long to master. In the beginning, the notes where choppy, dissonant and disturbing. At the three-month marker the notes began to sing, slowly, in a flat sort of way. Finally, at the six-month marker, the piece has come together in sweet harmony! After working my poor fingers to the bone I can finally hear Mozart’s masterpiece emerging. Give me another month or so…!

Hannah