POETS & WRITERS STAND AGAINST TRUMP 01.20.2017 AT 8PM

 

 

POETS & WRITERS STAND AGAINST TRUMP
POETS & WRITERS STAND AGAINST TRUMP  : JANUARY 20th, 2017 AT 8PM

On Friday, January 20th Donald J. Trump will be sworn in as The President of the United States of America.

This will be a very sad day indeed. And as poets and writers everywhere we need to speak up and say what needs to be said, and share those words with our nation and the world.

So here’s what we do.

At EXACTLY 8pm on the evening of Friday, January 20th I’m asking all my friends and fellow writers and poets to simultaneously all post a poem or prose piece against the election and presidency of Trump. Post it on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, WordPress …

EVERYWHERE.

That’s it, that’s all we need to do but we must all be united in this protest.

No matter who you are, what country, what race or what nationality this is the moment to Stand Against Trump.

All I ask?

Tag the bottom of your posts with these words that say we stand together.

#poetsandwritersstandagainsttrump

#westandagainstthispresident

Please join me, spread the word and invite all other writers and poets.

Join Us On Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/events/1633551503613211/1633847540250274/?notif_t=admin_plan_mall_activity&notif_id=1484335784769388


Thank you.

R.M. Engelhardt

The Death Of Shelly

The_Funeral_of_Shelley_by_Louis_Edouard_Fournier

 

All the earth and air                

With thy voice is loud

_________

Death Is Here And Death Is There

I.
Death is here and death is there,
Death is busy everywhere,
All around, within, beneath,
Above is death—and we are death.

II.
Death has set his mark and seal
On all we are and all we feel,
On all we know and all we fear,

III.
First our pleasures die—and then
Our hopes, and then our fears—and when
These are dead, the debt is due,
Dust claims dust—and we die too.

IV.
All things that we love and cherish,
Like ourselves must fade and perish;
Such is our rude mortal lot–
Love itself would, did they not.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Today, in July 1822, Mary Shelley and Jane Williams awaited with weeping anxiety the return of Percy Bysshe Shelley, who, sailing from Livorno in his fragile craft, had come to shore by sudden chance among the silences of the Elysian Isles. – O blessed shores, where Love, Liberty and Dreams have no chains.”This unearthly legend had been built up steadily throughout the 19th century. Shelley’s wife Mary herself launched it, writing immediately after his death: “I was never the Eve of any Paradise, but a human creature blessed by an elemental spirit’s company & love – an angel who imprisoned in flesh could not adapt himself to his clay shrine & so has flown and left it.”

Shelley drowned in his own sailing boat, the Don Juan, while returning from Livorno to Lerici, in the late afternoon of July 8 1822, during a violent summer storm. He was a month short of his 30th birthday. Like Keats’s death in Rome the year before, or Byron’s death at Missolonghi two years later, this sudden tragedy set a kind of sacred (or profane) seal upon his reputation as a youthful, sacrificial genius. But far more comprehensively than theirs, Shelley’s death was used to define an entire life, to frame a complete biography.

shelly(source:  http://www.theguardian.com/books/2004/jan/24/featuresreviews.guardianreview1)

 

WHAT IS POETRY? POETRY IS YOU

RM Engelhardt

Poetry is much much more than all of the definitions, theories or explanations that you read or hear about everyday. Poetry is not just a form, a quote or one or two popular poets or pop stars  in the media. Poetry is not hip hop or gangsta rap, slam or new formalism, gay or straight, white or black, dead or alive. Poetry does not belong either to the streets or the academics.

Poetry is not always a love song. Poetry is not always about the rain or nature, mountains or castles. Poetry is neither happy nor depressed, a villain or a hero, a lover or a friend.

Poetry is merely poetry for poetry’s sake. But the words are sacred, something sacred which we share.

Poetry is a state of consciousness and the mind.

Poetry is all of history and is the history of being.

Poetry is all of us

Poetry is you.

 

~ R.M. ENGELHARDT, 2015

NOD : (Moon Stars Sun Time) Poems R.M. ENGELHARDT

NOD POEMS R.M. ENGELHARDT

I Just Recently Found Out That There Are a Few Copies Of My Book From 2002 “NOD” Still Available To The Public Out There. Hope You Will Pick Up A Copy!

 

~ R.M.

 

Five New Poems : R.M. ENGELHARDT

Hello To All My WordPress Friends,

Welcome to the new and improved R.M. Engelhardt website and as always thank you for stopping by to read a poem or perhaps just find some inspiration.

Here are five new poems published by The Outlaw Poetry Network which are forthcoming from my next book of poetry “The Bones Of Our Existence”. (More Details To Come!)

Again,

Thank you for supporting my work and supporting poetry!

www.outlawpoetry.com/category/r-m-engelhardt

Sincerely,

R.M. 

R.M. ENGELHARDT POET

The Open Library : R.M. Engelhardt

The Last Cigarette Poems R.M. Engelhardt

The Last Cigarette:

The Collected Poems

Of R.M. Engelhardt

 

These are the earlier collected works of Albany, NY based poet, writer & author R.M. Engelhardt who has published several books over the last two decades. Engelhardt through his ideas & visions has helped to create a large amount of the Upstate, Albany, NY spoken word~poetry scene and is the host of The Saint Poem Reading Series. Through his efforts he has created such groups the Albany Poetry Syndicate as well as Albany Poets (www.AlbanyPoets.com), which have left a lasting mark on the upstate NY literary scene. His work has also been published by many journals both in print & on the net including Retort, Verve, Fashion For Collapse, Sure! The Charles Bukowski Newsletter, Copious Amounts, Thunder Sandwich, The Angry Poet, 2nd Avenue Poetry, Full of Crow & in many others.

 
 

The Open Library

Shakespeare’s Sonnets Published Today In 1609

Shakespeare's Sonnets (1609) Shakespeare's Sonnets, quarto published by Thomas Thorpe, London, 1609
Shakespeare’s Sonnets (1609)
Shakespeare’s Sonnets, quarto published by Thomas Thorpe, London, 1609
Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand’ring bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
~   William Shakespeare
shakespeare