davidnoahpoetry.blogspot.com

David Noah Poetry

Friday, April 3, 2015. I long to think invisible thoughts. But without moving my head I see a white goat. A gray donkey a white horse marked by a brown leaf shape on one flank. A brown horse with a white face a black cow another black cow. A black and white dog a tawny long-haired dog. Yellow green grass skinned over a low slope. Tilting above the run-off creek at its bottom. Like a slow wave of red dirt punctured. By the gray lilac trunks of pecan trees. Bare of leaves but waiting with lifted arms.

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David Noah Poetry | davidnoahpoetry.blogspot.com Reviews

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Friday, April 3, 2015. I long to think invisible thoughts. But without moving my head I see a white goat. A gray donkey a white horse marked by a brown leaf shape on one flank. A brown horse with a white face a black cow another black cow. A black and white dog a tawny long-haired dog. Yellow green grass skinned over a low slope. Tilting above the run-off creek at its bottom. Like a slow wave of red dirt punctured. By the gray lilac trunks of pecan trees. Bare of leaves but waiting with lifted arms.

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David Noah Poetry | davidnoahpoetry.blogspot.com Reviews

https://davidnoahpoetry.blogspot.com

Friday, April 3, 2015. I long to think invisible thoughts. But without moving my head I see a white goat. A gray donkey a white horse marked by a brown leaf shape on one flank. A brown horse with a white face a black cow another black cow. A black and white dog a tawny long-haired dog. Yellow green grass skinned over a low slope. Tilting above the run-off creek at its bottom. Like a slow wave of red dirt punctured. By the gray lilac trunks of pecan trees. Bare of leaves but waiting with lifted arms.

INTERNAL PAGES

davidnoahpoetry.blogspot.com

1

David Noah Poetry: L. H. N.

http://davidnoahpoetry.blogspot.com/2014/07/l-h-n.html

Monday, July 14, 2014. My dad had a tattoo on his forearm. Inked in dark blue: the letters L. H. N. But since he didn’t have a middle name,. I asked, when I was thirteen and ready,. What H stood for. “Hell,” he said, “or Heaven. One night in the navy we got real drunk. And all got tattooed by some handsome guy. Who asked what I wanted. I said No hearts. And no flowers, just write my initials:. L N, and the guy said ‘No middle name? Make it an H, I told him with a grin,. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom).

2

David Noah Poetry: Pretzel Man

http://davidnoahpoetry.blogspot.com/2014/11/pretzel-man-i-amble-down-manhattan.html

Wednesday, November 19, 2014. I amble down Manhattan Island. Thinking about the bare spots in Cezanne’s paintings. Where the unworked canvas shows through,. Where the sense of his presence is deepest,. And thinking how the dark schist boulders in Central Park,. The unworked bedrock of the Island,. Are the obdurate bare spots. Of Olmsted’s landscaped canvas,. While eating a salt pretzel and keeping a canny eye cocked. For those uncomposed moments when a composition. Breaks through, pinning my restless eye.

3

David Noah Poetry: The Ambulance Howls

http://davidnoahpoetry.blogspot.com/2014/07/the-ambulance-howls.html

Monday, July 14, 2014. High and long—it’s on the scent. We pull over and crouch. Like terrified gazelles by the roadside. Let it pass by. Let it find some other tragic avenue. Let it sniff around the alleys. In another part of town. Let it turn the corner on a far road. Where I don’t love anyone. Let it hunt in the dead ends,. In the hidden cul-de-sacs,. On the abandoned boulevards. Where weeds crack the pavement. No one I know lives on that street. Everyone I know lives on that street.

4

David Noah Poetry: On the Interpretation of Occult Cuisines

http://davidnoahpoetry.blogspot.com/2015/02/on-interpretation-of-occult-cuisines.html

Saturday, February 21, 2015. On the Interpretation of Occult Cuisines. On The Interpretation of Occult Cuisines. One day my dad asked for help at the college. Where he cooked in the kitchen of privilege. Angry and confused at this unwelcome. Invitation into his working life,. I sat beside the ovens without speaking. Until lunch, when he insisted. I help carry trays to the dining hall—. But then made me wait while his boss. Told the students they were lucky. To have such a fine chef in residence,.

5

David Noah Poetry: There's always a wasp

http://davidnoahpoetry.blogspot.com/2015/01/theres-always-wasp.html

Thursday, January 22, 2015. There's always a wasp. There’s always a wasp in the room when I paint,. Single, singular, muttering, dissatisfied,. Just out of reach above me. I know it at once. If it touches my hair. With its stinger held bent. 8212;flies are quicker, bees more direct. I watch it circle the light. It always surprises,. I kill it when I can. But a little danger in the air. Is welcome when the palette dries. And the brush clogs. Art is a blood sport. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom).

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sharondmccoy.wordpress.com

Blog: Let’s Talk | Writing for Life | Sharon D. McCoy

https://sharondmccoy.wordpress.com/lets-talk-blog

Sharon D. McCoy. Blog: Let’s Talk. April 3, 2015. How strong we are. Until we have to be. And we are stunned, when. Having realized it once, we have to. The hardest part is wanting life. To return to normal. Forcing ourselves to face. 8230;………. 8230;…………………. Especially when people say. Don’t know how you do that! Or I would never. 8230;………. This stake in a normal not theirs. This defensive praise of what they may. Have the luxury to choose not to do. Somehow, though, the real hardest part.

sharondmccoy.wordpress.com

muscle memory | Writing for Life

https://sharondmccoy.wordpress.com/2015/04/03/muscle-memory

Sharon D. McCoy. Blog: Let’s Talk. April 3, 2015. How strong we are. Until we have to be. And we are stunned, when. Having realized it once, we have to. The hardest part is wanting life. To return to normal. Forcing ourselves to face. 8230;………. 8230;…………………. Especially when people say. Don’t know how you do that! Or I would never. 8230;………. This stake in a normal not theirs. This defensive praise of what they may. Have the luxury to choose not to do. Somehow, though, the real hardest part.

sharondmccoy.wordpress.com

Connect | Writing for Life

https://sharondmccoy.wordpress.com/connect

Sharon D. McCoy. Blog: Let’s Talk. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Address never made public). You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out. You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out. You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out. You are commenting using your Google account. ( Log Out. Notify me of new comments via email. Fellow Writers and Artists. Reflections in Poetry Bob Ambrose.

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Humor | Writing for Life

https://sharondmccoy.wordpress.com/humor

Sharon D. McCoy. Blog: Let’s Talk. 8216;Cause Life Ain’t Funny. The Funny Thing about Cancer. Finding the Flow: Mark Twain, the River, and Me. If I Hear it Again, I Swear I’ll Scream: Hemingway, Huck Finn, and “Cheating”. Politics, Mark Twain, and Blackface. On other American writers and comedians:. Is a Joke Really Like a Frog? Sunday Sermon: Activist Humor and Frederick Douglass’s “Servants, Obey Your Masters”. Includes re-print of Douglass’s speech. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here.

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Writing as Healing | Writing for Life

https://sharondmccoy.wordpress.com/writing-as-healing

Sharon D. McCoy. Blog: Let’s Talk. No Knowing What Lies Around the Bend. Published on THE DOUBLE-HIT LYMPHOMA FOUNDATION). My original intent was to write about the ways humor helped get me through treatment for double-hit lymphoma and the inevitable re-adjustment blues after. But as my two-year mark looms large (2 May 2014), I find myself unexpectedly serious. But now, that unimaginable future is here, along with a previously unimaginable question . . . . Click link above to read more). If ever I needed...

foolfactory.blogspot.com

Always Pretending: February 2016

http://foolfactory.blogspot.com/2016_02_01_archive.html

Sunday, February 28, 2016. When love became a war. Our beds became a battleground. What landmines will I find. In the folds of your sheet. Under cover of my endless. I turn my face away. From the pale moonlight. So my face can't betray. Under cover of bad faith. We construct our contracts. But out of fear. When love became a war. There was no communication. There was strategic truth-telling. Strategic omissions of crucial. Each other what we know. Of our tactical formations. What general assumptions we.

foolfactory.blogspot.com

Always Pretending: May 2016

http://foolfactory.blogspot.com/2016_05_01_archive.html

Monday, May 30, 2016. When he told me he was leaving me for her. I became a puddle on the floor. I cried for weeks. Didn't eat for longer. Abstained from drugs and sex. When I could eat again. I made sure it was only food that I could pull out of the ground. With my own two hands. As if trying to uproot a path. Back to The Source. Life became a trickle. I inched forward, sluggish in time. Fluid, slow, dripping, and liquid. I wasn't sure where I was going. I just know that I wanted to be well. The Book of...

foolfactory.blogspot.com

Always Pretending: April 2015

http://foolfactory.blogspot.com/2015_04_01_archive.html

Thursday, April 30, 2015. Riding in your car. Our yelling drowns the music. And you raise your hand. Like you do when your angry. Wednesday, April 29, 2015. Genocide in the Senate. There was a genocide in the Senate. And although no one wants to admit it. It goes by many names. SB 458, ICE, nativism, xenophobia. Many people think you need Germs, Guns, and Gold. For there to be genocide. But genocide can be the hand that steals the pen. From someone who wants to learn how to write. That draws the line.

gutpunchpoetry.wordpress.com

Favorite Poets in Athens, GA – Gut Punch Poetry

https://gutpunchpoetry.wordpress.com/favorite-poets-in-athens-ga

The poetry and ramblings of one Emily Katherine. About Gut Punch Poetry. Favorite Poets in Athens, GA. Poems, listed by title. Welcome to my Blog-Baby. Follow Blog via Email. Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Follow Gut Punch Poetry on WordPress.com. Favorite Poets in Athens, GA. Jay Morris – Always Pretending. Mark Bromberg – Writing About Reading. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Address never made public).

sharondmccoy.wordpress.com

About | Writing for Life

https://sharondmccoy.wordpress.com/about-2

Sharon D. McCoy. Blog: Let’s Talk. I’ve never been very good at following the rules, or taking surveys that ask me to “choose one.” The choice I want is almost never there. Or I want more than one. Neither fish nor fowl, that’s me. So, where do we begin? Writing about what matters and sharing it is a beautiful and human thing. I love listening, and I love sharing the stories and voices that matter to me. I write for life. Photo Credit: Michelle Castleberry, Athens Word of Mouth August 2014.

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David Noah Poetry

Friday, April 3, 2015. I long to think invisible thoughts. But without moving my head I see a white goat. A gray donkey a white horse marked by a brown leaf shape on one flank. A brown horse with a white face a black cow another black cow. A black and white dog a tawny long-haired dog. Yellow green grass skinned over a low slope. Tilting above the run-off creek at its bottom. Like a slow wave of red dirt punctured. By the gray lilac trunks of pecan trees. Bare of leaves but waiting with lifted arms.

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D a v i d N o a l i a

PINTURAS La belleza está en la sencillez. Viernes, 12 de junio de 2015. Enviar por correo electrónico. Jueves, 8 de agosto de 2013. Mi manera de ver. Soy de los que piensan, que la pintura debe de hablar pos sí misma y que cada persona con sus conocimientos culturales y vivencias únicas, hacen que el cuadro les introduzca en realidades diferentes a las que yo vivo al pintarlo, aun así quiero hacerles una pequeña introducción de lo que quiero transmitir en mis obras. EL OTOÑO DEL PINTOR. El 23 de octubre.

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