App Assignment: Submit Your Poetry

Monday, August 15, 2011 - 07:35 PM

Last week, the Library of Congress named 83-year-old Philip Levine as the next poet laureate, succeeding W.S. Merwin. To mark the occasion, we’re asking listeners to submit their own poetry. Whether you’re a full-time bard, or just dabble in poetry-writing occasionally, we want to read your work.

Leave your poetry submission in the comments, e-mail us at mytake@thetakeaway.org, use our iPhone app, or give us a call at 1-877-8-MY-TAKE and recite your poem. Your poetry could make it onto our show.

We spoke with Levine today, and he’ll join us again tomorrow. Levine was once an auto plant worker in Detroit, and that city became the basis for many of his poems.

After graduating from Wayne State University, in Michigan, Levine worked the night shift at Chevrolet’s gear and axle factory, and wrote in his spare time. His poems reflected his experiences in Detroit and in the factory, prompting many to brand him as “the working man’s poet.” He later earned a master’s degree and became a writing teacher. He has published books of his poetry since 1963.

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Comments [3]

Alan Nakamura from Denver, CO

I haven't done this since High School, but here goes... a couple Haiku.

Autumn approaching
morning air rings cool and crisp
trees lament change

staring at the sky
the white streak slicing its path
gone in an instant

Aug. 22 2011 03:03 PM
John Moses Freeman from 18208 SR 7 North, Dover, Ar. 72837


Back

Form: Rhyme

Written by: john freeman
Read Poems by john freeman

To Tiger, With Love (A True Story)

"My pen drips of sorrow and on this paper, I write each tear"

gone without a worldly trace,
I’m left alone, the world to face…
with one went my wholeness grace,
my treasure laid up in heavenly place…

my feline friend, my wholeness grace,
I’m left alone in the world to face…
many days I yearned and did pace,
missing your playful moods and face…

one year ago said Love, my grace,
very soon your absence I would face…
with one, was laid up wholeness grace.
My Love said that morning to my face…

“with your return Tiger will be gone,
do not be alarmed, I do him no harm…
with your friend, there shall be not end,
wholesome grace is laid up for one in friend.”

I kissed the nature face of wholesome grace,
he meowed goodbye, later I would cry…as the dawn of grace later was to be faced,
in sorrow, the human man would soon pace…

I remember the morning as yesterday,
and the many ways we used to play…
my neutered Manx possessed many pranks,
to him, I dedicate my wholesome thanks…

unique, you were wholesome, meek,
your life to me was wholesome Love’s peak…
I hear his meow in wholesome ethereal Spirit,
beckoning…beckoning… my soul bonds ever close to it.

About the Poem!!
My Manx cat ‘Tiger’ is heavenly stored! This is a true story, believe it or not. My inner conscience said to me the morning of the 19 of July this year before I left to go into town, that Tiger would not be there at home when I returned for he would be taken and with him, my treasures would be stored in heaven. I said my goodbyes only half believing my sacred precept voice. Sure enough, when I returned, my Tiger was gone without a trace. Sure, the concept of the human mind could explain this paranormal phenomenon away. But this was my eight year old cat’s first and only leave from home, whom I had raised from a kitten.

Aug. 19 2011 02:35 PM
Paul Hickey from Augusta, GA

As we approach the 10th observance of the 9/11 tragedy it's important to remember the bravery and sacrifices of our First Reponders.

First Responders

They never know on any day
If they will fly into harm’s way
Down at the firehouse they joke and laugh
Down at the station they roll out fast

They race to the fires and sound the alarm
To rescue people away from harm
Our nation’s Bravest - on red engines they ride
Our nation’s Finest - silver shields of pride

They walk the beat and drive in cars
Patrol the streets and then the bars
Their blood runs red their coats are blue
They chase the bad guys and pursue

The EMTs are always ready
Their voices sure, their hands are steady
They race to answer the sad refrain
To bring the victims back home again

First Responders they are called
Soldiers in blue who “hit the door”
The other ones chase shooting flames
Now God Himself knows all their names

Aug. 17 2011 10:25 AM

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