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Archive for the ‘Poetry on Blogfinger’ Category

Ocean Grove beach. By Paul Goldfinger ©

Ocean Grove beach. By Paul Goldfinger ©  Click to enlarge.

 

Hi Paul:

Greetings again from Manhattan. In late summer, I like to visit Ocean Grove and watch the surf casters, with their long rods and spinning reels, working on the shore, usually alone, hurling their lures far into the dark Atlantic, and then waiting patiently for the bluefish, striped bass, or other gift the ocean might offer up. Here is a poem, “The Surf Caster,” from my collection, Father of Water.

Best wishes,

Charles Pierre

Charles Pierre. 2009. Photo by Marcella Kerr

Charles Pierre. 2009. Photo by Marcella Kerr

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Surf Caster

 

The fine line that keeps him connected to the depths

runs long into the night, a translucent filament

of strength through the dark and turbulent surf.

How quietly it flows from shore to ocean floor,

from his practiced wrist along the flexing rod,

as each tug of the tide, each questioning nibble

and answering jig, pulses through the eye loops

down to the spooling reel. He probes the ocean

with a lure of his own devising, charm and hook

tooled not for local fish but the far-swimming schools.

A slight vibration and his line now sparkles

with wetness in the glow of phosphor water,

humming in the summer wind, radiating a soft mist,

a sign of something below, something other than

the common catch, something only he would know.

 

 

BILL FRISELL   “Across the Universe.”    From the album  “All We Are Saying” (2011)

 

 

images

      

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East 100th Street by Bruce Davidson. ©

East 100th Street by Bruce Davidson. ©

By Paul Goldfinger, Photography Editor  @Blogfinger

The cities of America went through tumultuous times during the 1960’s and 1970’s.  Many experienced social upheaval and riots. Asbury Park had riots over the July 4, 1970 holiday which practically destroyed the west side of the city along with a famous tourist industry and a thriving shopping district. It is only now coming back.

This exhibit at the Princeton University Art Museum is about New York City, Chicago, and Los Angeles.  The works are mostly still photographs by eminent artists who “made their bones” photographing these cities during very hard times. There also are some powerful videos of race riots and violent demonstrations in Chicago during the Democratic Convention in 1968.  It is a superb photography exhibit which is being shown all over the country. It will be shown at Princeton until June 7, 2015

Bruce Davidson is one of the most famous of these photographers. He is well know for his NYC work including his 2 year project called “East 100th Street” where he followed residents of one block in Spanish Harlem during the late 1960’s.

Here is a link to one of Charles Pierre’s poems in Blogfinger where we used a photograph by Bruce Davidson in New York.

https://blogfinger.net/2014/11/05/a-poem-by-charles-pierre-boardwalk/

This still is from a video being shown of the rioting at the Democratic Nat. Convention 1968. Paul Goldfinger still

This still is from a video being shown of the rioting at the Democratic Nat. Convention 1968. Paul Goldfinger still

Still shot from the Democrat convention riot video. Helmeted police use clubs on the crowd.

Still shot from the Democrat convention riot video. Helmeted police use clubs on the crowd. 1968

Bruce DAvidson image from the Princeton exhibit.

Bruce Davidson image from the Princeton exhibit.

JACK TEAGARDEN    From the album When Jazz was King

 

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https://blogfinger.files.wordpress.com/2013/03/ny-springtime.jpg?w=1000&h=758

 

 

The vacant mansion
next door dwarfing my cabin—-
my tulips stand tall

 

 

Laura Nyro and La Belle:

 

 

*Paul Goldfinger photograph    West Village in New York City–early spring. 2013.

 

 

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An osprey nest on a chimney near the Sanibel Island lighthouse. Florida.   Paul Goldfinger photo. Feb. 2020 © Click image to enlarge the bird.

 

Osprey at the Tropicana Coop in Ft. Myers. 2018 © Paul Goldfinger photo.

 

 

Osprey

By George Held.

Osprey, you can see by the dawn’s
Early light

A fish ‘neath the finish of the bay
In your flight

As you circle and soar or you stall
Like a kite,

Ever ready to dive on your prey
When in sight;

Then you drop like a plummet until
You alight

On the brine with your talons outstretched
And they bite

Into scales of that silvery bass, lifting it clear
Of the bight

Of the bay with your ten-horse wings to retake
The sun’s light

And you land on your platform to tend to your nestling’s
End of night

Hunger, tearing the bass with your terrible beak
Into bite-

Sized gobbets for your fledgling to gorge on, its break-
Fast birthright

As your scion, O Osprey, you long-winged king
Of the heights.

 

 

This poem is from George Held’s first collection, Winged (1995.)

 

K.D. LANG

 

“Skylark.”

 

 

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By Paul Goldfinger,  Editor@Blogfinger.net

George Held has published another haiku, this time in the Red Eft  Review  (see their quote in the sentence below.)

“George Held is a prolific writer of haiku and has published them in Red Eft Review, the Aurorean, Blogfinger.net, bear creek haiku, and elsewhere. His latest book is Second Sight (Poets Wear Prada, 2019).”

We thank George for including us in his list of places where his poems roost.  (George loves birds.)

Blogfinger is reproducing that Red Eft Review haiku below.

And speaking of shoes (Poets Wear Prada), here is a Blogfinger link to a very recent post of ours about shoes.

Cobbler’s tool

And now, ladies and germs, we bring you a haiku by George Held…uh, not so fast!  That post will be found if you travel south of here.

Meanwhile, this boy, George, is recognized for what he said, because his words help guide those on journeys:

“Something the Boy Said.”  by Sting from his album   Ten Summoner’s Tales:

When we set out on this journey
There were no doubts in our minds
We set our eyes to the distance
We would find what we would find
We took courage from our numbers
What we sought we did not fear
Sometimes we’d glimpse a shadow falling
The shadow would disappear
But our thoughts kept returning
To something the boy said…

 

 

 

 

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Bob Bowné.  Winter Ocean Grove. 2015. ©

 

SCULPTURE

 

By Charles Pierre

 

In winter, my tongue

and teeth chinker

through cracked lips,

 

each poem a carving

of white breath

without marble’s heft—-

 

the chiseled lines

dying to silence,

shrouded in mist.

 

 

HOLLY CONLAN   “Winter”

 

 

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Osprey pair feeding young on Sanibel Island. Ding Darling Wildlife Refuge. Paul Goldfinger photo.

 

Even on Sanibel

hearing the osprey call—-

I miss Sanibel

 

 

Wild Tones Bird Calls  (Osprey)

 

SMASHING PUMPKINS:  “My Blue Heaven.”

 

 

George Held reading one of his poems.

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Chester, New Jersey. Paul Goldfinger ©.

 

 

Morning shrubs bending

in December wind—-

the full moon sets

 

 

 

Leonard Cohen  “Winter Lady.”

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sunset florida

Bunche Beach. Fort Myers, Florida. Paul Goldfinger ©.

 

Sunset

By Charles Pierre

 

The offshore sky

is undone

as light slips away:

 

When the blues die

in flame,

and the last display

 

of red ends its slide

seaward,

drowning the day.

 

CACHAO.  “Si Me Pudieras Querer”

 

 

 

 

 

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OG Beach—-in March. Paul Goldfinger photo ©

 

By George Held:

 

Even in Ocean Grove—-

Savoring the Atlantic—-

I miss Ocean Grove

 

 

BOB DYLAN:

 

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