Poetry & Writing –

River Arts is hosting a new series of workshops, readings, and clinics devoted to supporting the myriad voices living within the community and surrounding areas. Read on to see what’s been going on, about to happen, and join us!

Click on the following links for more information –

Poetry Clinic - Every 1st and 3rd Tuesday, 6-8pm

 

Special Guest – Poet, Reuben Jackson – February 7th!

Writers Group - Every 2nd and 4th Wednesday, 7-9pm


Poetry Wall:

Work excerpts from Reuben Jackson’s workshop “Time Remembered” -

 

 

 Barbara Murphy -

Returning to Standard Time 

(an almost- pantoum)

Every November, the same loss;
darkness when we still want light,
the day much too brief
for all we need to make happen.

Darkness when we still want light
pulls us closer; we must go faster.
For, all we need to make happen
awaits us; life is so brief it

pulls us closer; we must go faster.
Will there be light enough to see what
awaits us? Life is so brief it
pulses and quivers, tugs at our sleeve.

Will there be light enough to see what
our hearts ask of us? They
pulse and quiver, tug at our sleeve.
The same loss, every November.

 

Janet Wormser -

Quiet 

I often think of you.
Sitting downstairs by the fire
I see your tender face.
My cat basks in the fire’s warmth.

Sitting downstairs by the fire.
Outside snow is silently falling.
My cat basks in the fire’s warmth
Dusk turns to night.

Outside snow is silently fallin.
The wood in the stove pops.
Dusk turns to night.
I feel serene.

The wood in the stove pops.
I reach for a book.
I feel serene.
There is so much space around me.

I reach for a book.
I see your tender face.
There is so much space around me.
I often think of you.

 

Pantoum by Rick Eschholz -

a Dodge Charger our steed, our rental.
Concrete and steel hazards poised to mar
the luster of paint, curve of metal wall.

A Dodge Charger our steed, our rental.
We’re off to Santa Fe your iPod blaring.
The luster of paint, curve of metal wall
outside and us inside looking out, staring.

We’re off to Santa Fe your iPod blaring
a strange mix to mirror the foreign desert
outside and us inside looking out, staring.
We arrive and stretch limbs so long inert.

Strange tourists set against foreign desert.
Now safe, no hazards poised to mar.
We arrive and stretch limbs so long inert.
Out west, we park our muscle car.