Articles About First Lines
This month’s poems come from longtime villager Rubin Battino, who has been writing three-line poems for decades. “We hit it off,” he said of the short form, his own adaptation of haiku.
“There’s just no accounting for happiness,” begins a poem I love by Jane Kenyon. Happiness in this poem is a gift, a grace.
Spring. We become aware of it not just by the calendar, but more viscerally by signs. By firsts.
There is enormous freedom in a poem. It is the same freedom found within the human mind.
Mary Oliver died two weeks ago. I’m not sure I’ve ever cried that much for the loss of someone I didn’t know.
For friends and poets Anne Randolph and Mary Donahoe, poetry was a natural part of the women’s bond. This month’s column presents a poem by each: “Mary’s Garden,” by Randolph, and “Carolina Wren,” by Donahoe.
The News is launching a monthly poetry column, “First Lines.” Each month, we’ll publish a poem written by a local poet.