Saturday, December 10, 2011

Yeats, of Inisfree

The other day, after Keith and I were finished with our raw milk rally, we walked around the Bucktown neighborhood of Chicago . We found the best book store, called Myopic.  The visit made me think, and now...

I have a confession to make. I'd appreciate it if you would keep it between us.

I read poetry

It could  even be said that I like poetry

A long time ago, in a land far away, I wrote some poetry.
Last night, I wrote a few more poems. Afterwards, it became very clear.

Well, really not so clear is it? Wonder if it was a camera thing or an operator thing? Anyway, poetry wise it became clear I have nothing in common with Yeats talent wise.

So I switched gears and several decades, and bought the Juno Charm written by Nuala Ni' Chonchu'ir  A beautiful book of poetry that I read cover to cover in one sitting. Turns out I have tons in common with that poet...

we're both woman. What are the odds of that?


  1. Coincidence is a wonderful thing!

    I own just two Yeats books. His 'Complete Poems', and 'Mythologies'. 'Mythologies' is a book of short stories (mostly about the little people), and I read it regularly once a year. I recommend it.

  2. Oooooh! I'm telling! You like poetry, even writing it!!!!

    Umm, ok, I like poetry, too. And I write it. I won't tell if you don't tell!

    My downfall is Pablo Neruda and Rumi. Yes, we are rebels in the modern world, I tell you! :)

  3. Poetry???? It's limerick time again.
    There once was a gal name of Donna,
    Who farmed both flora and fauna,
    She drank her milk raw
    With only one flaw,
    No ads caused her very great trauma.