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One of the ways a poet makes art from his or her experience is through the use of unique, specific and particular detail.
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Those of us who have hunted morel mushrooms in the early spring have hunted indeed!
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User images for short replies in forums are now only shown for their first post - after that will hide the image, resulting in a much more compact view.
Also, the link on the 'x commented on your topic' notes, actually send you to the right page of a multi-page forum, and open the reply box for that comment.
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Those big cherry flavored wax lips that my friends and I used to buy when I was a boy, well, how could I resist this poem by Cynthia Rylant of Oregon?
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Here the Maine poet, Wesley McNair, offers us a vivid description of a man who has lived beyond himself.
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My maternal grandparents got their drinking water from a well in the yard, and my disabled uncle carried it sloshing to the house, one bucket of hard red water early every morning.
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A horse's head is big, and the closer you get to it, the bigger it gets.
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Though parents know that their children will grow up and away from them, will love and be loved by others, it's a difficult thing to accept.
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Grief can endure a long, long time.
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Literature, and in this instance, poetry, holds a mirror to life; thus the great themes of life become the great themes of poems.
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You'll notice a 'customize' link next to your 'new poems by friends' list on the front page. Click it to choose which of your friends you'd like to have included. There's also a 'fast' link in the chatterbox - click it to make it 'live', so you'll see updates as they're made.
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While many of the poems we feature in this column are written in open forms, that's not to say I don't respect good writing done in traditional meter and rhyme.
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Newborns begin life as natural poets, loving the sound of their own gurgles and coos.
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Home is where the heart.
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I'm planning to remove the 'friends' stuff and just go back to 'favorites'.
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How many of us, when passing through some small town, have felt that it seemed familiar though we've never been there before.
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More tweaks to the notification system. Briefly: default no longer emails @ new friend adding a poem, option to stop favorites from being emailed when you post, joint settings across sites.
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Anyone can write a poem that nobody can understand, but poetry is a means of communication, and this column specializes in poems that communicate.
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Come see who the Member of the Month is!
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Loss can defeat us or serve as the impetus for positive change.
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This wistful poem shows how the familiar and the odd, the real and imaginary, exist side by side.
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The first poem we ran in this column was by David Allan Evans of South Dakota, about a couple washing windows together.
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Linda Pastan, who lives in Maryland, is a master of the kind of water-clear writing that enables us to see into the depths.
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The Illinois poet, Lisel Mueller, is one of our country's finest writers, and the following lines, with their grace and humility, are representative of her poems of quiet celebration.
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The email notification system I mentioned in my last post is now live. Some of you will be irritated by the email you suddenly get, but hopefully some of you also find it useful. It's designed to be easy to disable - there's a link in 'my account' for notification preferences.
There's also been many bug-fixes, and some behind the scene upgrades which caused some random error messages over the last few days (but are now fixed). Go-poetry!
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Many of this column's readers have watched an amaryllis emerge from its hard bulb to flower.
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Here are some questions to ask yourself when critiquing poems.
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Poems of simple pleasure, poems of quiet celebration, well, they aren't anything like those poems we were asked to wrestle with in high school, our teachers insisting that we get a headlock on THE MEANING.
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Many poems celebrate the joys of having children.
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