Happy New Year, poets! Thank you for making this another wonderful year here at PWB. To keep our site going in next year please make sure that you leave comments, visit the poets on our list, take part in our projects, and take about PWB on other web sites.

If you want to see this site thrive become an active part of it!

Thanks for all your support of poetry in the blogosphere. May 2009 be even better for each and every one of you. I wish you joy, peace, and that your muse will stay kind.

Hugs and love from your blog manager,

Sara

Read Nicole Nicholson at Young American Poets

One of PWB's very own had her work displayed at YAP last month. To read Nicole Nicholson's poem Elegy click here.

Do you have poetry news to share? Send it to poetswhoblog at yahoo dot com with Poetry News in the subject line. But if it is of a time sensitive nature please leave a comment on this blog so I know to be on the lookout for it or else it might not get read in time.

Your Blog Manager,

Sara

Hi- We bring news (a little late!) of the December poetry contest soon to close on WritingRoom.com- winners of which will be featured in the WR Winners Forum on Poetrydances.com. Along with other great prizes - such as publication and cash! All participants will receive a certificate of achievement. If you would like to find out more please go to www.poetrydances.com/poetrycontest.htm Kind regards
and Merry Christmas to you all.


Anthony French



contact@poetrydances.com
Poetrydances.com

Ever visited Lit Up Magazine Blog?

From their site:


Lit Up Magazine is whatever you want it to be. Send us your music, photos, video’s, news and events, your writing, opinions, whatever. This is your world. We want you happy. We want you here...all of you. Submit to litupmagazine@yahoo.com

If you decide to visit the site use the control F feature on your computer and search for the poems of Nabina Das, who sent in news to PWB about this site. Her two poems are Othello's Path and Bouquets. Her work has also recently appeared in The Cartier Street Review and The Toronto Quarterly.

Recycled Poet Joins PWB

We have a new site on our blogroll. It focuses on the work of DPoetry and the poetry scene in Baltimore, Maryland. He is a spoken word poet who is interested in encouraging other poets to do more readings. Click here to check out Recycled Poet.

PWB Second Anniversary Party

You are cordially invited to celebrate the second anniversary of Poets Who Blog being online. This site takes the hard work, generosity and dedication of many members to keep it going. On January 5th we will be gathering here to commemorate the fact that we have made it this far and that we are not going to go away any time soon.

Do you love PWB? Then be here to party with us.

We will have a Poetry Carnival that day. If you want your poetry featured then send a link to your poem to me at poetswhoblog at yahoo dot com.

Hope to see you here on January 5th. Its the first major event for PWB in the New Year but not, by far, the last. I hope to get more and more members involved in being an active part of this site.

Do you want to help take PWB to the next level?

Underground Poetry Project

Are you on Live Journal? If so you might want to check out their Underground Poetry Project. You can find it by clicking here.

From their page:
The goal is to take poetry to the people. We want to get the words off the page, and into the streets! The rules are simple:

Anonymously post poetry in a public place. Be it on a notecard left in a coffee shop or restaurant, written on a sidewalk, overpass, wall (preferably in a way that won't get you arrested for vandalism) or a spontaneous performance, take a photograph or a videotape or a voice post of the "mission" and share it with the community, then fade away into the day, night, et al. Or simply post a copy of the poem you left behind here in our forum.

Our goal is to take poetry to the people. To celebrate, shout, shine! You have your mission, get moving!

The Twelfth Day of Poetry- Bonus

The Forgotten Christmas Tree

In a time no longer remembered
Behind a door marked Midnight
There stood a Christmas tree
Who had lost its sparkling Christmas Light

Where the Christmas Wishes were hung
But the world could not see
Belonging to all the little children
Of the Forgotten Christmas Tree

These children huddled beneath its branches
To take shelter from cold nights
Awaiting with wide and hopeful eyes
The return of the beautiful Christmas Light

They held tight to each others hands
The tiny ones frightened by the dark
Making sure to stay clear of the great door
That claimed Midnight as its mark

They knew not what could lie
Beyond the darkness of the door
Only that it had been a hundred years
Since it had been opened, maybe more

Then on an extra cold and dreary night
A bitter snowy wind began to blow
And they all gathered hiding within the tree
Having no other place to go

Clinging to each others jackets
In fear they would all blow away
They tried not to be frightened
As its great branches started to sway

The tree was losing strength
And certain soon lost they all would be
They gathered up their Christmas Wishes
Looking straight to the top of the Forgotten Tree

Then each child read their Christmas Wish
Aloud, clear enough for all the world to hear
And with it sent their faith and love
To all the lost hearts whether far or near

Soon in the wind there rang a sound
From the other side of the Midnight door
Faint then louder as it came near
And suddenly they were not frightened anymore

The children’s hearts became quiet and still
As they listened to the sound of wings taking flight
“They are coming, they are coming,” the children cried
“They are bringing the Christmas Light”

The air grew calm, as peace filled the air
And slowly the Midnight door began to open wide
Spilling Christmas Love and Christmas Light
As a thousand angel wings carried Joyous Yule Tide

With One Little Angel taking his place
On the very top of the Forgotten Tree
Where he will remain forever for all who are lost
As a beacon of Christmas Faith, Hope and Love
For the whole world to see…

By bkmackenzie from Soul Intention and A Children's Garden
copyrighted 2008

_____

Thank you for sharing your work, bkmackenzie and for posting about the 12 days of Poetry Project at your site.

Merry Christmas, to all our poets who celebrate this holiday. Wishing you joy, peace, love and creativity today and every day.

Sara

The Twelve Day of Poetry

Christmas Poem for Bloggers

Christmas for Bloggers, I write this for thee

So many stories, for all us to read



My story starts here, in a Florida town.

With lights and a tree, many present around.



The neighborhood homes, decorated with lights,

Each RV with its trinkets, light up the night.



On my site is a reindeer, Rudolph I know

In addition some candy-canes, and a big red tied bow.



Down the street is a snow globe that lights up the lane

I think the owner’s looking, for some minutes of fame.



Each car that drives by, slows down by her house

She’s out on the doorstep, dressed up like a mouse.



Her costume from Halloween, so I shutter to think

What bottle she takes from the cabinet to drink.



She waves to the cars as they drive by real slow

On occasion I’ve seen her, just dressed in a bow.



Tonight it is different perhaps she is straight

She’s dressed in an outfit that looks really great



It’s a red and white pant-suite with a big red felt hat

If you look at her sideways she looks kind of fat.



But jolly she is, as she stands by the door

Waving to cars, as they pass by for more.



She’s yelling to everyone, anyone in her sight.

Happy Holidays to you, and have a great night.


by ofiact. To visit Ofiact's Blog please click here

_______

Thanks for sharing, ofaict.

There is one more poem left in the Twelve Days of Poetry. A bonus poem for this last day. Check it out later tonight.

The Eleventh Day of Poetry- Bonus!

One of our youngest poets sent in a link to a poem for this project. Milou is a grade schooler from Argentina.

To check out here poem, pleaseclick here and tell Milou "Merry Christmas!"

The Eleventh Day of Poetry

FAMILY ALBUM




It's colder than predicted
beyond
the mothering heat of the kitchen,
beyond the
comforting clutter
of once-a-year ingredients
and the waltzing scents
of nutmeg and ginger.

From the rooftop,
icicles hang down like
December fingers easing into view,
as excited as children underfoot
eager
to collect sweet and gooey batter
from mixing bowls full
of doubled recipes and grandparent traditions.

Mouths water
for the same sensations
our fathers
craved when they
were half our age and we wander,
hungry travelers
walking over bridges
between generations
to dinner tables
full of welcome,
invisible
guests.

Yes,
it's colder than expected
outside,
but inside
it's Christmas-cookie warm,
hearts rising from decades-ago burns
on the pages of old cookbooks.


by Bryan Borland from SHAKE: The Poetry of Bryan Borland.

___

Thanks, Bryan, for taking part in our Twelve Days of Poetry Project! Merry Christmas to you.

The Tenth Day of Poetry

Holiday Card Postmarked from Holland

A canal, from one who’s crossed the crowded ice.

A windmill, from one who’s felt the chill nearby.

Some birds, from one who’s heard their winter cries.

A Kerstdagen greeting without a single lie

for me to believe in.



by Therese L. Broderick from Poetry Inspired by Art. If you want to check out this poem in its original form and read about the inspiration for it then click here.

The Ninth Day of Poetry

One Place to Go

There was no place to go
when winter dimmed
There was this all that came to light
When sacred fires skimmed our faces over fences of memory
I waited for the unfed Santa-man on my school's sidewalk
He didn't give, but begged for coins
For him there was no sweet crumbs baking
Warm dishes squealing in the little arc of holiday lights
Also there was this fat nun-teacher in our section who did a jig for us
She tall and big, sang throaty carols in the name of deserts, donkey and a child
We saw that kid everyday near the pale woman by the shops
She wore rags like royal attire and a smile to light the brightest
Candles lit by my Catholic neighbor that competed
With my grandma's heathen oil lamp flames chasing the Sun-god
Running askew at solstice behind the sky
To flicker till the rays fell straighter on her dew-soaked Tulsi
Grandma would scatter puja grains and chant her Uttarayana mantras
And tell me about a path that leads to a garden
Of ceremonies where we apparently could share
Sugardrop laughs with my classmate Maria Joseph -- also Humeira and Maya
There, where incense sticks burned around ravishing firepits,
There was no place for lines or walls
There was no place to go other than
Longings for prim days that opened their doors wearing festive shades.



by fleuve-souterrain from Do you see?

To read this poem in its original setting with the artwork that accompanies it please click here.

The Eight Day of Poetry

overnight bedlam
while driving,
hang right hand over and off steering wheel
thumb down connected to sharp cheddar
yellow moon,
connecting from earth to sky
back again, relating sequentially

radio aqua shimmer relates numerically
time sequences, bass lines, hooks and choruses
track number 5 on repeat, clasping, seeping lyrics a memoir
someone else might live.

night white light night light,
full spectrum windshield,
wind currents from crazed automatic windows at 62 mph
doom full chewing slow on tongue
paying bills on keyboard
all thumbs, castrating never questioning electronic memory

inside its warm, but testing patience
a flytrap with christmas trees,
glittering St Nicks,
fabricated home living

daylight still 5 hours and 23 minutes further,
yellow wax colored lights shaded with sheep skin
still pretending as natural
laundry in twisted grimace patterns,musty
some crusty, domesticated washer machine bases settings
Hot, Warm, Cold
orange eyes split form and drop through cycles,
never backwards only forwards, repeat

shit stains like a smile on boxer seams,
caffeine supplements taste strawberry, fake sugar flavor
water like family relations
television talks in japanese anime
sometimes scripted sports announcers lock eyes with
half feigning attention bored athletes
with golden hamster feeder lifestyles

waiting patient all thumbs
heart licking deep forward to chest walls
back, all cycles
repeating,
hang dry only

by Wedlock from Word of Mouth Coalition

The Seventh Day of Poetry

Christmas in Iraq - a Christmas Poem for Our Soldiers

'Twas the night before Christmas in an Iraqi town;
And our brave U.S. forces had all just hunkered down.
Not a Humvee was moving, not a Jeep stirred the sand
As troops dreamed of their homes, each and every man.

Some longed for their sweethearts, other men missed their moms,
Others missed sons and daughters not seen for so long.
Sugarplums would be nice, but much nicer to be
At home with their loved ones 'neath their own Christmas tree.

When what to their wondering ears should be heard,
But the faint sounds of carols, music and joyful words.
At first heard so faintly, then the sound grew and grew --
The sound of your loved ones singing carols for you.

For you are not forgotten, you are not alone;
You are missed by the people you keep safe at home,
And we remember you as the Christmas bells ring,
As you're watched by the Christ Child whose carols we sing.

For no matter how far from your home you may be,
There once was a Babe born for you and for me.
So hark to the carols as their music draws nigh,
And look to the stars in the Iraqi sky.

Remember the star which on Bethlehem shone,
The star that still guides those who yearn to be Home.
So as Christmas Day dawns over here, over there--
Merry Christmas to you, with our love, thanks, and prayers.

By Kathryn E. Darden from Christian Poets Pen.

The Sixth Day of Poetry

Holiday Meal


the extended family around a grand table
awaited the feast to begin
in joy, much drinking and laughter

a chorus of oohs and aahhs while grandma
placed the golden plattered turkey
in the center of our festive throng

fine spirit abounded, then all lights went out
there was a scrambling, some shouts,
until a cry of pain did command

when the lights came on,
grandpa had tears in his eyes, a turkey leg
and seven forks in his hand

by Jack Sender from A Warming Trend

________

Thank you, Jack, for taking part in our Second Annual Twelve Days of Poetry and helping to spread poetry through the blogosphere this holiday season.

The Fifth Day of Poetry

Solstice

When winter comes

The fire grows warmer

The snow bells tingle

Frosting panes

When winter comes.



The fire grows warmer

Sun-god defeated

The slaving hearth beams

With new found surrender

The fire grows warmer.



The snow bells tingle

Around ruddy cheeked children

Cool beams beckon

The new born sun-child

The snow bells tingle



Frosting panes

Glistening, glistening

The fire grows warmer

The wind thunders freely

Frosting panes



When winter comes.




By Dpoetry from Recycled Poet.
© 2008 David Drager

___

Thanks for sharing your poetry with PWB, Dpoetry. Its great to have a new member step up and take part in our site.

The Fourth Day of Poetry

Christian Doe

they found him, in a basket wove
of freshly whittled pine
on the stair steps of the orphans home
one late december night..

amidst the blow, and cold, and snow,
under a crescent moon-
swaddled in a red fleece cloak,
eyes sparkling,, lips a coo..

they brought him in, they coddled him
they rocked him by the fire
never knowing into their midst
was ‘born’,, retails own christ child….

by paisley. To read this poem in its original posting and see the photo that accompanied it please click here


_____

Thank you, Paisley, for taking part. I really appreciate the way you always support PWB.

The Third Day of Poetry

Bethlehem

My eyes are caught:

in one wide gaze, embers of constellations.

And there, figures on the moon.


I sketch a plan on the infinite blackboard.

At times I wish to be surprised - not tonight.


Moonlight casts its own shadows;

I share mine with no one.

Where I stand, few sounds reach me.

My heart pounds.


Suddenly, this night is unlike any other.

I turn to the strong star with my shadow

in fear that I know nothing.


Here I am on Bethlehem’s road:

I raise my right foot,

one single step into the unknown.


A dusty scent of hay:

a hint of the First morning.



Belén


Mis ojos están cautivados:

en una mirada vasta, destellos de constelaciones.

Y allí, figuras en la luna.


Esbozo un plano en la pizarra infinita.

A veces quiero que me sorprenda; pero esta noche no.


La luz de la luna proyecta sus propias sombras.

Yo no comparto la mía con nadie.

Donde yo estoy, me llegan pocos sonidos.

Me palpita el corazón.


De repente, esta noche se vuelve diferente a las demás.

Me vuelvo hacia la imponente estrella con mi sombra

temiendo que ya no sé nada.


Aquí estoy en el camino a Belén:

levanto mi pie derecho,

un solitario paso hacia lo desconocido.


Aroma de polvo de heno:

huella de la primera mañana.

by Gordan Mason from Catapult to Mars.



____

Are you enjoying the 12 Days of Poetry so far? Let our poets know you appreciate them sharing their work by leaving a comment. I'm eager to see many PWB members step up between now and Jan. 21st as we are going to have many projects, prompts and chances for your to share your work here between now and then.

Be an active member! Its a great way to keep poetry alive and kicking in the blogosphere- and tell a friend about PWB while you are at it.

The Second Day of Poetry

At Feast End

We congregate about the table,,,
Our bellies bursting with holiday—it was pristinely set.

The turkey carcass now
discarded,,,
the sweet potatoes observed
disrobed
(their brown candied toppings stripped to expose solitary
daubs of orange-carroty-color not fit to keep),,,
the blotched plates cleared,,,
the caked forks confiscated,,,
sweaty goblets still bathed in mostly melted cubes:
the table
tidied.

Was God’s grace gone so soon?

God’s grace
was gone
so soon

by the scôp from diatribalArts.

Please comment and support our 12 Days of Poetry Project.

The First Day of Poetry

"Eight Lights"

eight lights
eight lights borne aloft on
wax and gold
a story of old
retold in candle and oil flame splendor

eight lights
seven days beyond the
life span of mundane oil
death delayed to give up offerings
of light
to burn bright
out of sight
Hashem is here
Hashem is near

eight lights
eight lights powered
by pellucid oil
to see miracles through
the fog of centuries, old crumpled scrolls
and transcriptions from jot and tittle to
pixel and electron love
words, sonic souls, carry our blood
through the air
through the fourth dimension
and we are here
and we are near
to Thee

eight lights
eight lights to jog memories
while the Shamash lights up the house
the memories rise up, in spades
curl around the brains of the eyes
who see the lights dancing in
our window
below in the snow
the glow and soul live on
memories
blood
hands linked
Hashem
in
eight
lights


by Nicole Nicholson from Raven's Wing Poetry. To find details about her first chapbook, Raven Feathers, click here.

The Twelve Days of Poetry Begins Again

I'm happy to be able to announce that this is Poets Who Blog's Second Annual Twelve Days of Poetry Project. Hopefully we will make it to our third.

I want to take a moment to thank everyone who took part last year, stuck with this site all year, and has kept poetry alive in the blogosphere. Things have been a little quiet here for the last few months, lets end the year with a bang and kick 2009 by making PWB a rocking site again.

Are you in?

Be here on January 5th for our second annual anniversary party. More detials to come after the holidays.

And if you want your poetry to be part of The Twelve Days of Poetry Project you need to immediately send me a link to a poem about winter or Christmas and your screen name. Please put 12 Days of Poetry in the subject line or the email will likely be deleted. Send your submission to poetswhoblog at yahoo dot com.

Support PWB by supporting this project.

Happy holidays, poets!

Young American Poets Seeking Submissions

You have just a few days left if you would like to submit your poetry to YAP. The deadline is December 15th.

Click here for all the detials.

The President Loves Poetry?

Will Barack Obama spark poetry sales? Jonathan Galassi,recent winner for his poetry at the Mercantile Library Center for Fiction Awards, thinks the President elect just might.

Click here to read an article where he explains why.

(Please no comments about politics in the comments of this post).

Spend a moment with Lawson Inada

Oregon Poet Laureate Lawson Inada did an interview with Jim Lehrer about the times Inada spent in an interment camp as a child and how his writing reflects that expierence.

Click here to read the interview.

Poetry on the Beach

Every friday The Writer's Island puts up a new prompt to get your creative muses sparking.

Click here to cruise on over to The Writer's Island. Bon voyage!

Have you checked out the Online NewsHour: Poetry Series by PBS?

Click here to jump on over to their site and find videos of contemporary poets reading their work.

In the mood to read, review or maybe even write a limerick or haiku? If so head on over to Mad Kane's Humor Blog where you can take part in her latest prompt.

Click here to be whisked to Mad Kane's world.

Hello, poets! Hope all is going well in your writing world. Keep sending in those links for the Twelve Day of Poetry project. Make sure you put poetry in your subject line.

poetswhoblog at yahoo dot com

Looking forward to reading all the poems submitted.

Happy holidays!