[stylist] In honor of Poetry month a dedication to Edna StlVincentMilay

[Lynda Lambert]

and, to this, I heartily agree with Jackie!
I learn so much from Myrna and any discussions we have had. She has 
influenced me very much with her suggestions to me,
and I am applying some of the things she has shared with me personally. 
Thank you, Myrna.

Lynda



----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Jacqueline Williams" <jackieleepoet at cox.net>
To: "'Writer's Division Mailing List'" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Sent: Monday, April 15, 2013 2:00 PM
Subject: Re: [stylist] In honor of Poetry month a dedication to Edna 
StlVincentMilay


> Myrna,
> It is still April, poetry month, so I hope I am not too late to respond to
> both your poem and your suggestion for a favorite poem.
> I am truly moved by your poem to Edna St. Vincent Millay. She is also one 
> of
> my favorites, to the point of having read her biography, and memorizing 
> her
> poem, "Pity Me Not." I will try to attach it, plus the one I wrote, "Don't
> Pity Me" using the last words from her sonnet in my own. I re-titled it 
> for
> the purpose of the NFSPS annual contest, for an injured war vet.
> Your poem is such a true reflection of the power of a poet to change lives
> through words.
> I would add Emilyy Dickenson and Billy Collins to my list of favorites.
> You are a gifted poet and I always learn from reading your work and 
> hearing
> your comments.
> I thank you.
> Jackie
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of
> KajunCutie926 at aol.com
> Sent: Tuesday, April 02, 2013 1:33 PM
> To: stylist at nfbnet.org
> Subject: [stylist] In honor of Poetry month a dedication to Edna Stl
> VincentMilay
>
> This piece written a few years ago is also attached in Rich Text Format...
> her poem "When The Years Grows Old" is one of my all time favorites.
>
> Master of the Art
> (in dedication to Edna St. Vincent Milay)
>
> 'And often when the  brown leaves
> Were brittle on the ground,
> And the wind in the  chimney
> Made a melancholy sound,'
> ....(excerpt from 'When The Year Grows  Old'
> by Edna St. Vincent Milay
>
> I pause in my reading, my  thoughts
> Lingering still on the verse,
> Catching my breath, feeling the  impact
> Of a poet's simple words.
> The textured leaves my fingers  brushed,
> In brittle waste they lay.
> The plaintive song of sighing  winds,
> Its melody softly plays.
> And I, so inspired by
> This poet's  brooding plight,
> Take up my pen, search my soul,
> And slowly begin to  write.
>
> 'Mere words that cling
> To breaths from poets'  thoughts,
> Lingering still in patient pause until
> The ink begins to fill a  silent quill.
> For such it is that the poet's choice
> To scribe is truly  naught.
> Words, you see, are the masters,
> The guiding strength of a poets'  mime,
> Their muses are lulled into poetic dance
> With strings of verse or  prose, perchance
> To breathe into life thoughts born of rhyme.
> Is the  poet's role one of service then
> To scribe for the true masters of the  art?
> Are the pieces scribed from his questing pen
> Their own to claim or  must they share in part?
> For is it not within words that a poem's life  begins
> Spilling from a poet's soul into his waiting heart?'
>
> With  trembling hand, I set down my pen
> And read my scribbled words,
> A meager  dedication, I thought,
> To a poet and her inspiring verse.
> Absorbed am I in  my musings
> But again for a second brief,
> I listen to wind's plaintive  call,
> Feel each brittle leaf.
> That these mere words
> Could wield such  power
> To touch this reader's heart,
> Is a tribute to the poet's craft,
> A  true master of the art.
>
>
>
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