Here we are...

...a group of Baby Boomers of sundry religious,
political and cultural orientations, who have been
meeting at the Voorheesville Public Library since 1991
to read and discuss each other's poems.

We include old fathers and young grandmothers,
artists and musicians, and run-of-the-mill eccentrics.
Writers are welcome to stop in and stay if they like us.

Some of Us

Some of Us
Dennis Sullivan, Beverly Osborne, Tom Corrado, Edie Abrams, Art Willis, Alan Casline (all seated); Paul Amidon, Mike Burke, Tim Verhaegen, Mark O'Brien, Barbara Vink, Philomena Moriarty

Friday, August 24, 2007

War Psalm

Mimi's chapbook of WWII poems for her father has been published and she donated a copy for the VPL collection. The book has a pic of the author looking absolutely glamorous-in full color, with lipstick even!They are on sale from her or at Amazon ($13). (Mimi, my favorite is Postcard from the War.) Her poem last night was also about war, the current one, and the presentation of a medal to a young widow (aside: check out war portraits by Nina Berman in the NYTimes this morning 8/24).

Paul presented another glimpse into his mischievous young life with a circus story that was very funny and deserved a five-star rating. Obeedude did a funny with What maks tha Happie Maun happie? Rather oddly, it referenced serotonin. Perhaps a more colloquial spelling. Saeretunen?

Dennis started out to Perth Amboy with a bang - hauling a truckload of chickens with his grandfather. I thought I was gonna love it, but he lost me in stanza two and the discussion between us degenerated into a minor tift over Priam, of all things. I no longer have a mind for complexities. Oh, well. Joyce (welcome back, Schreiber!) was also into mythological references. Her Medea was very emotional, in spite of the spaghetti straps.

We discussed the shape and size of Asparagus, which was Tom's title. Not many comments, as Tom's style is all his own. Alan, on the other hand, fielded a lot of suggestions about his Campfire on the Land, a sweet/sad memory of father-son camping trips. (from me: read the poem on his second page called Poem as Confessional. Great one.)

I did not have a poem, blaming it on my computer which has vomited up my Microsoft Word and rendered me helpless.

I was wrong about segue. No one got gaveled.

No Ally, no Art, no Edie, Mike or Dan or Catherine. Tim is off to Rockport, MA, today and I am off to Maine next week. Tom is doing the old college trip with his daughter this weekend. Good luck to him. Maybe we will be back to full strength on September 13.

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