Poetry Everywhere: "What Kind of Times Are These" by Adrienne Rich

wonderful

why the fuck does she always have to use metaphors it makes it more difficult to understand and summarize her poems.. dammit..

Rest in peace, we will miss you so.

RIP Adrienne

Yeah! Totally! Poems shouldn't have metaphors at all!

RIP and thanks for enriching our lives.

Thanks for all you did. Your voice and vision will be sorely missed. Condolences to your family.

Lesbian Poet Adrienne Rich XOXO

These times and all others will be less without you, Adrienne Rich. They could not make you disappear. Thank you for your persistent, fierce, lyrical voice.

I love you. Rest in peace.

Sarcasm much ?

Ya think?

Thank you Adrienne, R.I.P. Added to a playlist...

Just what need:officious, felt congratulatory revolutionary.

listening to this and thinking about the recent firing of Robert Buckingham at the University of Saskatchewan

Great! Thank you for sharing.

Beautiful!

How can we but give blessings except by our imitations? We each fumble forward in our own legitimate ways.

Fantastic Universiallity that transcended opinion, keep shaking your fist at evil fate.

MS Rich's collected works are among the most important poems I have read. She was known for her integrity. There were no two personalities, one for public and another for private consumption. She was exactly what she appeared. Her friends Audrey Lorde ("The Black Unicorn") and Alice Walker are among the many who also reflected this honesty and elevated social consiousness for the margianalized in this country. So much talent, so much insight. How I wish I could have met her. Her didain for "comfortable poetry" is shared. RIP

Brings strong to mind what I can recall in the lines below...
In the glare of the light
I see a strange kind of sight
Of cages joined to form a star
Each person can't go very far
All tied to their things
Their netted by the strings
Free to flutter in memories of their wasted wings
~Peter Gabriel ''The Cage''

Fire

There's a place between two stands of trees where the grass grows uphill
and the old revolutionary road breaks off into shadows
near a meeting-house abandoned by the persecuted
who disappeared into those shadows.

I've walked there picking mushrooms at the edge of dread, but don't be fooled
this isn't a Russian poem, this is not somewhere else but here,
our country moving closer to its own truth and dread,
its own ways of making people disappear.

I won't tell you where the place is, the dark mesh of the woods
meeting the unmarked strip of light—
ghost-ridden crossroads, leafmold paradise:
I know already who wants to buy it, sell it, make it disappear.

And I won't tell you where it is, so why do I tell you
anything? Because you still listen, because in times like these
to have you listen at all, it's necessary
to talk about trees.

i read this poem for my pol entry!! fantastic poem :)))

Precient , restorative even as now in 2023 people and things, the natural world (and intersectionality feminism) are being made ( legislated and censored ) to disappear.
And yet you left us with your powerful words.. your soul piercing expression of a fierce hope ...
that which I share, as do the many more who keep the faith and" fight against the dying of the light".