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Poetry: August 23, 2006 Issue [#1222]

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Poetry


 This week:
  Edited by: Stormy Lady
                             More Newsletters By This Editor  

Table of Contents

1. About this Newsletter
2. A Word from our Sponsor
3. Letter from the Editor
4. Editor's Picks
5. A Word from Writing.Com
6. Ask & Answer
7. Removal instructions

About This Newsletter

This is poetry from the minds and the hearts of poets on Writing.Com. The poems I am going to be exposing throughout this newsletter are ones that I have found to be, very visual, mood setting and uniquely done. Stormy Lady


Word from our sponsor



Letter from the editor


The Duel
By Eugene Field


The gingham dog and the calico cat
Side by side on the table sat;
'T was half-past twelve, and (what do you think!)
Nor one nor t' other had slept a wink!
The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate
Appeared to know as sure as fate
There was going to be a terrible spat.
(I wasn't there; I simply state
What was told to me by the Chinese plate!)

The gingham dog went "bow-wow-wow!"
And the calico cat replied "mee-ow!"
The air was littered, an hour or so,
With bits of gingham and calico,
While the old Dutch clock in the chimney place
Up with its hands before its face,
For it always dreaded a family row!
(Now mind: I'm only telling you
What the old Dutch clock declares is true!)

The Chinese plate looked very blue,
And wailed, "Oh, dear! what shall we do!"
But the gingham dog and the calico cat
Wallowed this way and tumbled that,
Employing every tooth and claw
In the awfullest way you ever saw -
And, oh! how the gingham and calico flew!
(Don't fancy I exaggerate -
I got my news from the Chinese plate!)

Next morning, where the two had sat
They found no trace of dog or cat;
And some folks think unto this day
That burglars stole that pair away!
But the truth about the cat and pup
Is this: they ate each other up!
Now what do you really think of that!
(The old Dutch clock it told me so,
And that is how I came to know.)



Eugene Field "The Children's Poet"


Eugene Field was born on September 2, 1850, in St. Louis, Missouri. His brother Rosewell was born one year later. His mother Francis also gave birth to a sister who died soon after birth. Eugene and Rosewell were very close but very different. When he was just six years old, his mother died. Eugene's father could not care for both boys, so he sent them to live with their cousin Mary French on a farm in Massachusetts. It was there Eugene wrote his first poem about their dog, Fido.

Eugene was sent to a private school at the age of fifteen. He was one of five boys in the whole school. Eugene loved leading the other boys into mischief against the head master of the school. After graduating from the private school, Eugene attended William's College in Massachusetts. Only eight months after starting college, his father died and Eugene dropped out. Eugene took another stab at it and attend Knox College but again withdrew after completing only a year. Eugene ended up going to the University of Missouri with his brother Rosewell.

At the University of Missouri, he met a fourteen-year-old named Julia Comstock. The two were married after Julia turned sixteen in 1875. She and Eugene had eight children. They suffered many heartbreaks throughout their marriage. Three of their eight children died, two as infants and the other as a young boy. While supporting his family, Eugene worked many jobs, including some at different newspapers. He arranged for his pay to be sent to his wife, for he had no sense of money.

Eugene wrote many humorous columns and articles for Morning Journal and then for the Times-Journal. After that he took a job at the Kansas City Times and then the Tribune of Denver, Colorado. In 1883 Eugene took a job at the Chicago Daily News writing a column called "Sharps & Flats." His first book of poems Christian Treasures was published in 1879. There were over a dozen more volumes published. With "Wynken, Blynken, and Nod", "The Duel", "Little Boy Blue" and his other wonderful poems for kids, he became known as "The Children's Poet."

In 1895, at the age of 45, Eugene Field died. He now rests at the Church of the Holy Comforter in Kenilworth, Illinois.



Wynken, Blynken, and Nod
By Eugene Field

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe,--
Sailed on a river of crystal light
Into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going, and what do you wish?"
The old moon asked the three.
"We have come to fish for the herring-fish
That live in this beautiful sea;
Nets of silver and gold have we,"
Said Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

The old moon laughed and sang a song,
As they rocked in the wooden shoe;
And the wind that sped them all night long
Ruffled the waves of dew;
The little stars were the herring-fish
That lived in the beautiful sea.
"Now cast your nets wherever you wish,--
Never afraid are we!"
So cried the stars to the fishermen three,
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

All night long their nets they threw
To the stars in the twinkling foam,--
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,
Bringing the fishermen home:
'Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed
As if it could not be;
And some folk thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed
Of sailing that beautiful sea;
But I shall name you the fishermen three:
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,
And Nod is a little head,
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
Is a wee one's trundle-bed;
So shut your eyes while Mother sings
Of wonderful sights that be,
And you shall see the beautiful things
As you rock in the misty sea
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:--
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.



Little Boy Blue
By Eugene Field

The little toy dog is covered with dust,
But sturdy and stanch he stands;
And the little toy soldier is red with rust,
And his musket molds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy dog was new
And the soldier was passing fair,
And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue
Kissed them and put them there.

"Now, don't you go till I come," he said,
"And don't you make any noise!"
So toddling off to his trundle-bed
He dreamed of the pretty toys.
And as he was dreaming, an angel song
Awakened our Little Boy Blue,--
Oh, the years are many, the years are long,
But the little toy friends are true.

Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand,
Each in the same old place,
Awaiting the touch of a little hand,
The smile of a little face.
And they wonder, as waiting these long years through,
In the dust of that little chair,
What has become of our Little Boy Blue
Since he kissed them and put them there.



Thank you all!
Stormy Lady
A logo for Poetry Newsletter Editors

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Editor's Picks


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The winner of "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest [ASR] is:



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#1141586 by Not Available.


A Duel at Daybreak



Apprehensive, encumbered by doubt,
he paced the floor of his dwelling,
for this had never been his desire.
A man of loyalty, one fully devoted
to cause and country, in desperation,
he had accepted the challenge, a duel.

Men choosing to settle, with a duel,
disputes, seemed to him, without doubt,
as sinking into a pit of desperation.
He had sought for a peaceful dwelling,
but his rival proved to be a man devoted
to enmity, with bloodshed as his desire.

                   ~~~~~~

She lay awake all night, in earnest desire
that her husband escape this needless duel.
Her tears drenched the pillow, a wife devoted
to the man she loved, of that never a doubt.
Fearing the outcome, her thoughts dwelling
on life without him, she prayed in desperation.

With hope fading, drowning in desperation,
she embraced him, expressing her desire
that he not depart the safety of their dwelling.
Let another’s husband fight this evil duel.
In her eyes, his courage was never in doubt.
Cradled in his arms, she wept, a wife devoted.

                   ~~~~~~

Calmly, her husband, a valiant man devoted
to justice, silenced her pleas of desperation,
trying to ease her fear, relieve her doubt -
to return safely to her was his only desire.
Bearing the chosen weapon for the duel,
he walked outside, away from their dwelling.

A few people, from inside their dwellings,
watched, while this lone man, devoted
to fighting corruption, prepared to duel.
But a young boy called out in desperation,
saying his rival had fled, losing all desire
for dueling; he had left, without doubt.

                   ~~~~~~

Harboring doubt, alone in her forlorn dwelling,
she prayed with ardent desire, this wife devoted,
in desperation, awaiting the fate of this savage duel.



Honorable mention
 DESPERATION  (ASR)
Written for Stormy Lady's Poetry Newsletter and Contest, using her prompt words.
#1136388 by COUNTRYMOM-JUST REMEMBER ME




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These are the rules:

1)You must use the words I give in a poem.

2)They can be in any order and anywhere throughout the poem.

3)All entries must be posted in your portfolio and you must post the link in this forum "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest [ASR] by September 15, 2006.

4)The winner will get 3000 gift points and the poem will be displayed in this section of the newsletter the next time it is my turn to post. (September 20, 2006)

The words are:

autumn waltz horizon paint harmony floating letters signed

*Delight* Good luck to all *Delight*
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 Invalid Item 
This item number is not valid.
#1007396 by Not Available.

 Invalid Item 
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#1146265 by Not Available.

 Hope  (E)
There is a light under the door.
#1146561 by Erika

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 Revisiting Old Dwellings  (E)
A journey back in her mind.
#1141015 by Lou-Here By His Grace

 Invalid Item 
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#1146156 by Not Available.

 Invalid Item 
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#1145261 by Not Available.

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 Invalid Item 
This item number is not valid.
#1146281 by Not Available.

 Invalid Item 
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#1145153 by Not Available.

How shall I thank you for your love?  (E)
A special tribute ...
#1145209 by Bella Bunny

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