I've been trying to get better acquainted with my classic writers, so I decided to do a bit of digging on Christopher Marlowe this weekend. The only thing I knew about him when I started was that he was a character in "Shakespeare in Love" (lol...I'm sure he would be turning in his grave if he heard that), but after a quick google search, I found loads of gossip on his quite the scandalous life. My kind of author:-)

He was born to a well-to-do shoemaker and a clergyman's daughter, yet was almost thrown in jail for religious blasphemy.
He lived a sort of double life - academically exemplary, while all the while acting as a government informant on the sly.
Even the authorship of his plays and poems has been called into question many times, but there are about six or seven plays and countless poems that historians have agreed he penned.

One of his early works Tamburlaine the Great is considered to be the first, popular play to be featured on London's public stage. Marlow was certainly more playwright than poet, but he left the world (well before his time, if you ask me) with the oh-so-famous lines from The Face of Helen -

"Was this the face that launched a thousand ships,
...And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss."

::SWOON::

According to Theatrehistory.com

"Many details of his life were a source of scandal to some of his contemporaries, and for us are still shrouded in mystery. In May, 1593, a manuscript was discovered in Kyd's possession which he declared to be Marlowe's left' with Kyd in 1591 when he was in the service of a noble lord for whose players Marlowe was writing. The document--merely a copy of part of a theological treatise already published--though unitarian in nature, was atheistic in the eyes of the orthodox. Testimony as to blasphemous conversations on Marlowe's part was also produced. Before the privy council took definite action about the charges, Marlowe was killed. Puritan disapproval of his connection with the stage and of his free-thinking perhaps influenced Meres' statement that he was stabbed "by a bawdy serving-man, a rival of his in his lewd love." Records discovered by Hotson merely show that he was stabbed in a tavern in Deptford by Friser, one of three companions who also were, or had been, in the service of the government."

So, there you are. Not nearly comprehensive, but hopefully enough to wet your whistle:-) Wanna learn more? Wiki!!

Poem Hero And Leander
BY Christopher Marlowe

It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is over-rul’d by fate.
When two are stript long ere the course begin,
We wish that one should lose, the other win;
And one especially do we affect
Of two gold ingots, like in each respect:
The reason no man knows; let it suffice,
What we behold is censur’d by our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight:
Who ever lov’d, that lov’d not at first sight.

We all need a bit of Momma Angelou in our lives:-)

Senses of Insecurity
BY Maya Angelou

I couldn't tell fact from fiction
Or if my dream was true,
The only sure prediction
In this whole world was you.
I'd touched your features inchly,
Heard love and dared the cost.
The scented spiel reeled me unreal
And found my senses lost.

In honor of swine flu season, I'm posting Shihan's "Sick and Tired." We all need a comedic rant poem every once in a while, especially when the cold and flu ickies are going around. This poem made me lol...like...out loud...like for real:-) Loves it!!

The great lines are endless, but I've included a few of my absolute favs below.

I wanna smack people who don't even realize that Egypt is in Africa.
I'm tired of J-Lo having white parents in every movie she's in.
I'm sick of black features being attributed to everyone else except blacks, like having big lips is cool, but only after Angelina Joli had them.
I'm sick of Master P being allowed to speak on behalf of hip hip, when he represents nothing but everything wrong with it.
I'm sick of apathy and American Idol and the whole Survivor phenomenon.
I'm tired of poets doing poems for pu$$y.
I'm sick of Cuba Gooding crying in every movie he's in.

So much truth wrapped in so much funny. Enjoy the vid, good people.

::smooches::

I love poets. That's not a shocker. But there was one poet that originated this obsession - Carlos Andrés Gómez. 2006. ::Sigh:: He was my very first poet crush and was literally the man who opened the floodgates for the many crazy, sexy, cool relationships I've had since then.
This was the poem that did me in:-) Gotta love a man who can still look adorable while talking about neocolonialism and oppression. Not my favorite version of it (its way faster than he has it on the cd and cuts out some pretty epic lines) but you get the point.

And please don't be fooled by my school-girl-crush description above. This poem is serious!

Enjoy!


"What's genocide?
Maureene's mother gave her skin lightening cream the day before she started the sixth grade.
What's genocide?
She carved straight lines into her beautiful brown thighs so she could remember what it feels like to heal."

What's genocide?
BY Carlos Andrés Gómez

Let us throw off everything that hinders
and the sin that so easily entangles
and let us run with perseverance the race marked for us
- God (in Hebrews 12.1)

Yes!! NaNoWriMo:-)

Also known as National Novel Writing Month. This month-long write-a-thon is described on the homepage as a "fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. All you have to do is write a 50,000-word novel from scratch in a month's time." That's ONLY 1,667 words a day! Sounds impossible, but I believe in you!!

The main site has lots of tips on how to get started, how to fight the evil dragons of procrastination, and how to donate to the efforts when you're a poor, struggling artist. You can even buy all kinds of bibliophile swag like the oh-so-adorable "I Eat Novels For Breakfast" shirt. Simply beautiful. They'll be tracking the number of words written all over the world throughout the month, so check out the site to register. Thanks to Ida for getting me hip to this. Happy writing lovelies!!

And just in case you're still wondering why you should hop on the NaNoWriMo band wagon...

Why: The reasons are endless! To actively participate in one of our era's most enchanting art forms! To write without having to obsess over quality. To be able to make obscure references to passages from our novels at parties. To be able to mock real novelists who dawdle on and on, taking far longer than 30 days to produce their work.

When: You can sign up anytime to add your name to the roster and browse the forums. Writing begins November 1. To be added to the official list of winners, you must reach the 50,000-word mark by November 30 at midnight. Once your novel has been verified by our web-based team of robotic word counters, the partying begins.

How: Because of the limited writing window, the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It's all about quantity, not quality. The kamikaze approach forces you to lower your expectations, take risks, and write on the fly.

Who: You! We can't do this unless we have some other people trying it as well. Let's write laughably awful yet lengthy prose together.

I've never been too big into the super scariness of Halloween. I actually remember crying all night on one of the first Halloweens that my family spent in this country. I was staying the night with this sitter that had about 8 of us kids whose parents worked crazy hours, and someone thought it was a good idea to pop in "Nightmare on Elm Street" or something equally ridiculous. As soon as they turned it on, it was over. I more or less lost it...probably more:-) I was so not used to the scary, scary stuff. At school we had learned that Halloween was a day of free candy. Who can find fault with free candy? But scary, crazy men trying to kill people? That was a bit much for my 7 year old mind. And I've honestly never been the same. I used to play along and follow my friends to see the scary movies and do the haunted hay rides and such, but no more. I can't even stomach the thought of scary somethings jumping out of the bushes. Just cant!! So there you are, world - my deepest, darkest secret:-)

But that doesn't mean i can't appreciate a good, creepy poem as much as the next person. Who better to help us celebrate the day of spooks than Mr. Creepster himself - Edgar Allan Poe.

Enjoy and Happy Haunting!

The Haunted Palace
BY Edgar Allan Poe

In the greenest of our valleys
By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace
Radiant palace reared its head.
In the monarch Thought's dominion
It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
Over fabric half so fair!

Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
On its roof did float and flow,
(This all this was in the olden
Time long ago),
And every gentle air that dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A winged odor went away.

Wanderers in that happy valley,
Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically,
To a lute's well-tunëd law,
Bound about a throne where, sitting
(Porphyrogene!)
In state his glory well befitting,
The ruler of the realm was seen.

And all with pearl and ruby glowing
Was the fair palace door,
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing,
And sparkling evermore,
A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty
Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,
The wit and wisdom of their king.

But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the monarch's high estate.
(Ah, let us mourn! for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him desolate !)
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

And travellers, now, within that valley,
Through the red-litten windows see
Vast forms, that move fantastically
To a discordant melody,
While, like a ghastly rapid river,
Through the pale door
A hideous throng rush out forever
And laugh but smile no more.

Calm down folks! He didn't literally "spit" on the stage:-) But you can never be too sure with his crazy butt.

I know that Kanye's PR manager has been working over time these days with all of his random antics, but this performance on Def Poetry Jam last year reminds me why I love him. He's just hella scandalous for no reason at all:-) This is probably more speaking words than poetry, but you get the point...you should recognize what song it's from.

"she was supposed to buy your short tyco with your money. she went to the doctor and got lypo with your money!!"

Loves it!

::warning:: bad language alert, so you might wanna turn the volume down.

I'm always raving about how bad A the poetry clubs in NYC are, but we have our own gem here in Cincinnati. If you haven't been, the Midnight Sun Cafe is the longest running open mic night in the city and a fabulous place to check out the movers and the shakers in the local poetry scene. Whether you're an old timer or a budding artist, Elament, the hilarious (and super cute) host creates an environment that is both intimate and entertaining. If you've never experienced it or haven't been back for a while, tonight's the night to check it out!

Every Wednesday at The Greenwich.

This video has been making its way around Nigerian circles for a few weeks, so I decided to share it with all of you:-) Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, a Nigerian-born author, gave this speech on the harm that can come when we only hear one-side of the story at the recent TED Conference.

Wonderful speech!! You have to listen to fully get it, but here's an excerpt from the introduction.

"What this demonstrates, I think, is how impressionable and vulnerable we are in the face of a story, particularly as children. Because all I had read were books in which characters were foreign, I had become convinced that books, by their very nature, had to have foreigners in them and had to be about things with which I could not personally identify. Now, things changed when I discovered African books...Because of writers like Chinua Achebe... I went through a mental shift in my perception of literature. I realized that people like me - girls with skin the color of chocolate, whose kinky hair could not form pony tails, could also exist in literature."

Enjoy peeps! This totally opened my mind tonight.

Wanna know more about Chimamanda? Check out her Wiki.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (born September 15, 1977) is an acclaimed Nigerian writer. She comes from Abba in Anambra State, southeast Nigeria. Her family is of Igbo descent.[1]

She was born in the town of Enugu but grew up in the university town of Nsukka in south-eastern Nigeria, where the University of Nigeria is situated. While she was growing up, her father was a professor of statistics at the University, and her mother was also employed there as the university registrar. At the age of 19, she left Nigeria and moved to the United States.

Her first novel, Purple Hibiscus, was published in 2003 and won the Best First Book award in the 2005 Commonwealth Writers' Prize.
Her second novel, Half of a Yellow Sun, named after the flag of the short-lived Biafran nation, is set before and during the Biafran War. It was published by Knopf/Anchor in 2006 and was awarded the 2007 Orange Prize for Fiction.[4]
Her third book is a collection of short stories titled The Thing Around Your Neck and was published in April 2009 by Fourth Estate in the UK and Knopf in the US.

Just stumbled upon Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz's hilarious poem about what she does when poetic inspiration comes at inopportune times. She emails notes to herself...which don't always make sense in the morning.

Enjoy:-)

Write a Poem About Monsters
BY Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz

and this midnight note
"poem about monsters"
was written in the hope
that when morning broke across my desk
and coffee shook the rumpled bed of my brain,
I would find something profound in this obsession
but instead, I just found more nothing
another ghost of a poem
to throw into the grave with "neck-face"
another pen I swore I could move with only my brain
but couldn't

So, I've been reading a lot about the mass rapes that happened in Guinea during last month's military crack down. Hundreds of women, peacefully protesting for democracy were ambushed and raped by military officers...in broad daylight!! I know...madness!! It made my soul hurt and more or less broke my tiny little heart into pieces all week. But, it also inspired me to search around the net for some good news.



AND, I FOUND some!! Poets Against The War. There's more than a bit of politicin' on here, so be forewarned...but it's an amazing celebration of self-expression in the face of war. The organization's mission is simple -

to continue the tradition of socially engaged poetry by creating venues for poetry as a voice against war, tyranny and oppression.

There is something so empowering and liberating about art:-) I was even inspired to write a bit myself.

Poetry > War
BY Susan Baba

She will never kill
for justice
and you cannot make her.
She will fight with all her might for you to see that we are all precious
from the smallest to the greatest among us
we all have worth.
She will fight
with words,
attack you when you are not looking
with the bullet of self-expression.
She will read and write and create and love until the wall breaks
and there's a crack big enough
for hope to slip through.
That is what a poet can do.

::love::peace::justice

"For now,
I am miles from you.
By day, I wade through strange cities;
By night, I sit in motel rooms
In the company of bad art and unsent postcards;
And if all I can be to you is a memory:
Remember me"

This poem is such a gentle picture of love and longing. Sarah weaves the story of seperated lovers whose memory of eachother is strong enough to transcend time and space. This poem has been in my top ten for almost a year now and, for some reason, I woke up with it on my mind.

Enjoy!

You Are Dangerous
BY Sarah McKinstry Brown

Listen

Because you look like my father
And you taste like water.

Because in this circus
You do not juggle flame or paint your face but
Pitch the tent;
Your sweat falls
Unnoticed on dirt;
Planting salty seeds to grow whole oceans
For the women you love to swim in;
So that
When you come to them,
Towel in hand
They will tell you,
Honestly,
Lungs at half mast in half
Sleep:

"I am doing swimmingly,"

And you'll both go under, breathless.

You are dangerous,
Bent on one knee, hell bent on loving me
While the earth around us spins about,
Drunk on its own neon sermons and nursery Rhymes,
You wait,

Full of silence,
A piano in the palm of a wheat field at dusk;
This is hardly common,
And you have everything in common with dreams;
It is thus your eloquent bones
Startle me.

For now,
I am miles from you.
By day, I wade through strange cities;
By night, I sit in motel rooms
In the company of bad art and unsent postcards;
And if all I can be to you is a memory:
Remember me,
A still life of woman in want of your company,
Return to me again and again.
Because tonight, even the moon
Is on your side;
Persistent, she wills her light into my window,
A floodlight burning your skyline into my heart.

Of course Obama's Noble Peace Prize win took over the entire media universe and more or less blocked out the sun last week. But Herta Mueller will NOT be Overshadowed!!This Romanian-born German author was awarded the 2009 Nobel Prize in literature on October 8th. She received particular praise from the Nobel Committee on her work which, "with the concentration of poetry and the frankness of prose, depicts the landscape of the dispossessed."

Quick history lesson - In 1982, Mueller published her first collection of short stories about the difficulties of living in a small village, like the one where she was raised. Although her book was censored by Romanian authorities, an uncensored version was released in Germany and garnered critical acclaim for the then young Mueller. 19 books later, she's still rocking!

Yay Herta!! Yay for chicas who buck the system to create work that is worthy of such an honor.

I've only read excerpts from some of her books, but I'm adding her to my reading list. As soon as I finish Jhumpa Lahiri's Unaccustomed Earth, I'm picking up Mueller's most recent work - The Appointment.


PS - Do you know the past winners of the Nobel Prize in Literature (1901 and 2008)?