March 2002Café Society's Poetry News Update
Do you have poetry news or comments? Mail me on the link at the bottom of this page. Announce competitions / calls for submissions here free.

An Interview With

Michael O'Grady


Michael in the kitchen
photograph taken by Anne Fisher ©
used with permission.

Michael O'Grady decided early on that he had no desire for a career but had in mind something like a careen or a carom, where he would bounce off the possibilities of life and follow a tacking course through a number of fields. After working as an engineer in Plasma Physics research, he went to graduate school for degrees in English literature and taught at a number of universities on the American east coast. Through these stages, which mixed steepings in the sciences and the arts, the writing of poems was always happening.

Michael says: "When I was an engineer, I was sometimes considered to be a poet, and when I was in the world of literature, I was often considered to be an engineer. The two cultures that C.P. Snow described are not highly receptive to those who have inclinations and proclivities toward subjects in the other camp. In any event, the admixture of different disciplines has created a Weltanschauung in me that realizes that the viewing of the world is best served by having different methodologies that sometimes are "poetic" and sometimes "scientific," depending what one wants to know about a tree."

At the start of the millennium, he moved from the United States to France (a nation that views the arts and philosophy to be as much a part of life as wine and soup) and with this cultural change came an increased interest in the universe of poetic expression.

Michael O'Grady has won a haiku contest in the Mensa organization, been published in college literary journals, and been a member of a number of writing workshops. He describes himself as "an amateur who has lived in the first two of the conditions of writing that T.S. Eliot described: for self, for friends, and for the larger world. Such a position perhaps allows for more time to taste words and landscapes."


Poetry L & T:When and why did you first start writing poetry, Michael?

Michael:I recall taking an odd test in highschool which had no question to it but only a poem by Louis Aragon that was a linear arrangement of the alphabet. We were supposed to just say something, which was an eye-opening experience for me (like the opening sequence of "The Andalusian Dog" by Bunuel and Dali). I had to actually see the alphabet and I realized that the surface of the world was only the beginning of coming into contact with it. I started reading the dictionary voraciously and words would start to gather other words around them and forms would appear that kept that made new branches and trees in a landscape of discoveries.

Poetry L & T:Who are your favorite poets?

Michael:William Butler Yeats, who believed that one should become an opposite persona of oneself to transcend one's initial persona (he placed a soldier opposite a poet; I put an engineer opposite the poet); Theodore Roethke, who had a child's ear and a mature sense of what "rings from ear to ear"; Wallace Stevens, who lived a life of the imagination to view life more clearly; and John Donne.

Poetry L & T: You have written many sonnets and villanelles, as well as some very powerful free verse. Would you like to ever make up a new style of poem? If so, what might you call it?

Michael:A good question. Perhaps the doggerel-sonnet: the doggonnet, which could be written of a love that was unrequited but the lover is witty and rueful.

Poetry L & T: On reading through your poems, one that amuses me very much is "Relationships"* [*See Michael's poetry page link under this interview)]. But it seems to me that there may be a note of sadness behind the whimsical humour. Is there?

Michael:Good relationships admit of absurdities, and absurdities have the flavors of laughter and of gray ice cream. A panoramic view has a wide range of colors that are shadowed to sunny, which creates a canvas that is fully alive. Time swirls the colors together but it is not unsatisfactory to find the amusing abiding in the shadows.

Poetry L & T: In your poem "Sleepless in Night Thunder", I particularly like the line: "Moist spring leaves await some flowering of your voice," - the whole poem is strong but that line stands out. How do ideas like that develop for you? Do they flow naturally from previous lines in a stanza, or do you have to 'rack your brain' for them?

Michael:I am always amazed at this process. No, there is no wringing or twisting that happens but rather a sudden appearance of a line or parts of a line, as though one were sitting on a park bench and of a sudden an unseen tree was illumined, fitting itself into the composition of the other trees and the water. There is an unbidden sound of words that often appears, such as in "moist" and "voice" in the line you mention: the old music box of the brain is having fun and I listen to it at play.

Poetry L & T:Your villanelle "Ducks" has a flowing rhythm, like waves on a river. Do you find that watery landscapes are particularly inspiring?

Michael: I never thought of that but, yes, this is true. I forget which American writer noted that "truth is a liquid"; I revel in the multiplicity of meaning that words can have and how like waves on water, they can flow into each other and create harmonies. For instance, if I mix the word "still" with the word "light," I find a permutation of meanings that creates far more than a denotative statement of duration, quietude, illumination, and weight.Also, our eyes like watching water and fire, as though some parts of our brains are pleased with these motions.

Poetry L & T:Is there anything in modern poetry online that you dislike to see, or which seems like an affectation?

Michael: Two things. Some struggling poets are immersed in whether to rhyme or not to rhyme. This seems to me to be a backward way of coming at technical problems in poems. As with any of the tropes that are used in poems to transmogrify experiences into transmitted experiences, the experience is better left to find its form, which may have rhyme involved or not. By practicing different formal approaches and understanding them, at the time a poem is being written, these forms will sift through the mind to be used appropriately. Second, and this is a more delicate point that is my own viewpoint, distinguishing between writing an essay (which chooses a spade to plant a tree) and writing a poem (which uses all the gardening skills and subtleties of language) could be practiced more often. The narrative of my life, say, is not the same as the evocative experiences of my life.

Poetry L & T:How did you first find out about Richard Vallance's Sonnet Group Describe_Adonis, where you are now a moderator?

Michael:Richard sent out a notice on another poetry list that he was starting up a group devoted to sonnets only and the idea seemed a good one to me. Though formal poetry is not in vogue these days, the discipline of a set form does sharpen one's control of language. Richard does a very fine job in also providing the poetry of past poets and encouraging many writers.

Poetry L & T:You have extensive experience of both science and poetry. Have the two ever come together in a poem on a scientific theme?

Michael:Squeezing ambiguities and stanzas out of scientific work is not easy. The physical world doesn't have the same variety of complexities that the world of human experience dishes up. I've tried writing "science poems" but they turn to dust in my hands. There is awe in science but it doesn't include farce, tragedy, and irony. In the poem "The Universe is Green, Scientists Note [NYTimes 11/1/01]," I refer to two Johns Hopkins University scientists who concluded that when the light of old red stars and young blue stars are integrated, a green universe results. I made the cosmos into a bowl of red and blue berries that humans are best advised to slurp up rather than attempt to provide with grand meanings. Usually, however, I "feel" the thoughts of the two disciplines in quite different ways: either by examining the jello or being the jello.

Poetry L & T:What are the most important things you have taught your English literature students?

Michael: Learn to experience literature rather than merely identifying with a work. Realize that the form of a work speaks as much as the substance of a work. One is never more oneself and less oneself than when one is immersed in literature. Read "hard" books since they make one's tomorrows much easier. And look at past literature not as something long gone and far away but part of a huge, well-furnished, and vital room that one is fortunate enough to spend some time in.

Poetry L & T:Which of your poems would you most like to be much-quoted and remembered in future years?

Michael:It's probably my Celtic ancestors speaking to me on the subject but the poem "Good Day," which is an echo of Dylan Thomas' elegy to his father, pleases me. I would be fearful that someone might recall a line of mine and attribute it to Edgar Guest or Rudyard Kipling.

Poetry L & T:Finally, Michael, what would you say to a young poet who wanted your advice about how to write better poetry?

Michael:Well, have you considered opening a flower shop or perhaps becoming a carpenter? But, if this poet insists, I would suggest the following:
  1. Stay away from concepts in your poems; provide the bone, the resonances of the moment, the specific blossom.

  2. Listen for the lines your muse provides. I once thought that I shouldn't read too much or all that was in me would be inundated by other writers. I now think it works the other way around: reading much poetry makes the poetic assemblies of the mind vibrate with one's own word strings.

  3. Study the etymology of words. Most of the human condition is there and merely needs to be woven into fabric of your own fashioning.

  4. Don't take yourself too, too seriously. You might end up being a Poet Laureate and having to write occasional poems for some monarch's dog's collar.

Poetry L & T:Thank you for the interview, Michael.

Michael:Thank you Sara. I enjoyed it.

CLICK HERE to read poetry by
Michael O'Grady


Dear Poets,

This issue features an interview with the poet Michael O'Grady, poet, engineer, English literature instructor and a regular sonnetteer on Richard Vallance's Yahoo group Describe_Adonis.

Featured Poets this month include Duane Locke, Ward Kelley, Neil Ray, Richard Vallance, and Jan Sand.

The Vallance Review this month explores the sonnet "The Sports of the Field" by Capel Lofft.

Any comments on this issue or back issues can be emailed to me on the link at the bottom of the page. Please indicate whether you would like the comments to go into the Letters section. Announcements are always welcome, you can also promote poetry books here.

Poetry submissions should be in plain text in the body of an email, with a small jpeg author picture attached, also a bio, with the URLs of any ezines mentioned, so that they can be shown as links. This increases the chance of inclusion, especially for late submissions. Pictures are best at a maximum of 520 pixels across, otherwise they take ages to arrive by email, especially in bitmap or TIFF format. Further submission guidelines are available on request.

Best Regards,


Click title below for this month's Vallance Review feature

Richard Vallance reviews sonnets, both classic and modern.

Featured Poets this month include Duane Locke, Ward Kelley, Neil Ray, Richard Vallance, and Jan Sand. Many thanks to all contributors.

Duane Locke with one of
his paintings


Duane Locke, Doctor of Philosophy in English Renaissance literature, Professor Emeritus of the Humanities, was Poet in Residence at the University of Tampa for over 20 years. Has had over 2,000 of his own poems published in over 500 print magazines such as American Poetry Review, Nation, Literary Quarterly, Black Moon, and Bitter Oleander. Is author of 14 print books of poems, the latest print book is WATCHING WISTERIA ( to order write Vida Publishing, P.O. Box 12665, Lake, Park, FL. 33405-0665, or Amazon or Barnes and Noble). Since September 1999, he became a cyber poet and started submitting on-line, and since September 1999 he has added to his over 2,000 print acceptances with 1,819 acceptances by e zines. 181 more to reach having over 4,000 poems published.

Recently, an e book published by Ze Books entitled THE SQUID'S DARK INK. Forthcoming from 4*9*1 Neo Naïve Imagination, another e book entitled The DEATH OF DAPHNE containing poems never before published.

He is also a painter. Recently had exhibitions at Thomas Center Galleries (Gainesville, FL) and Tyson Trading Company (Micanopy, FL) and a one-man show at Pyramid Galleries (Tampa, FL)

Also, a photographer, has had 148 of his photos selected for appearance in e zines. He photographs trash in alleys. Moves in close to find beauty in what people have thrown away.

He now lives alone in a two-story decaying house in the sunny Tampa slums. He lives isolated and estranged as an alien, not understanding the customs, the costumes, the language (some form of postmodern English) of his neighbors. The egregious ugliness Of his neighborhood has recently been mitigated by the esthetic efforts of the police force who put bright orange and yellow posters on the posts to advertise the location is a shopping mall for drugs. His alley is the dumping ground for stolen cars. One advantage Of living in this neighborhood, if your car is stolen, you can step out in the back and pick it up. Also, the burglars are afraid to come in on account of the muggers.

His recreational activities are drinking wine, listening to old operas, and reading postmodern philosophy.]

© Duane Locke

In a land of dry wells,
No one could understand
Why the water departed.
Everyone stared down into the dry wells,
Saw only white, wrinkled sand.
Why did the water leave
Was the question
Creasing the forehead
Of each silent questioner.
The few that heard the answer,
Became frantic,
Went beserck,
Ran wildly, trying to find
A donkey to kiss,
But all donkeys
Had been chased away long ago.

© Duane Locke

In a small German,
White sausage town,
A man wearing a forlorn hat
Plays a hurdy-gurdy.

He plays the hurdy-gurdy
Because he is hungry.
If he was offered food,
He would refuse.

If he were not hungry,
He could not play the hurdy-gurdy.

© Duane Locke

When Parmigianino painted St. Catherine,
He stressed the beauty of her breasts,
But Catherine selected the au courant hedonism
Of being tortured on a wheel
Rather than being touched by a lonely hand.

© Duane Locke

In Rome's Panthenon,
Metal doves fly
Over Raphael's tomb,
But Raphael's bones
Cannot hear
The flutter of the metal wings..

© Duane Locke

I always thought the ancients in error
When the ancients portrayed Love
As a young boy, a blind cupid,
Who stood on a pedestal and shot arrows.
Love should be portrayed
As an old man with his face buried in his hands,
Sitting naked and shivering alone in a cold room.

[email protected]


Bio quotes from Neil:

"Some of my more daring poetic counterparts refer to me as a rogue, ruffian, and roughhouse. And I do not hesitate to confess my passion for scotch after midnight, and a little bit of moonlight…sort of gives me ideas. In certain circles, I am known as the "NightWalker", for I find comfort in shadows."

" I published my first poem, when I was in the third grade, and I was hearing a lot about a country called, Vietnam. It was a poem about Daniel Boone, and I can't remember one line. Over the years, I was touch and go with my writing, and my living, and somehow, they never stayed close enough to make the difference. A few years ago, they connected and became entwined, growing and creating this spirit, you have on this page, and in these words.

"Nowadays, time is spent being the editor of two (2) literary newsletters, The Ink Pad, of the Writer's Ink Guild; and The Bohemian Scribe, of the Four Finger Writing Group, both based in Fayetteville, North Carolina, (USA). As Chairman of Membership Development for the North Carolina Poetry Society, there is an opportunity to create and develop programs, that bring the pleasure of poetry to communities throughout North Carolina, and the Southeastern United States. It is a pleasure to host three (3) literary "open mikes", in which poetry and music had combined to make the evenings, a very "inspiring" experience. Poetry workshops in schools provide a unique release. The radiant glow of acceptance and amazement, at the play of words, is strong inside of hearts and faces within the room. There may be a future Pulitzer sitting among them. Highlighting or coordinating a poetry event or program, for the local universities and the Arts Council of Fayetteville/Cumberland County allows me the privilege of giving back to my community. This is my home. I do not hesitate to help when I can. Oh, but you must excuse me. It's two minutes to midnight, and I need to go find a glass."

"I enjoy what I do, and I enjoy the way it effects others. Their inspiration and spirit help me to create, and the friendships developed through reading, writing, and participating in the various events, convince me more and more, that we all carry the "soul of the artist", within us. If no one else will listenthe page will. It is the most loyal friend you have."

© Neil D. Ray

What justice will words bring here?
Is there a tongue to interpret silence?
Gently meld into soothing, warm skin,
Discreetly, relevant to the release of sighs.
Eyes are conduits to the soul,
Piercing contention with a standing glance.
Above the cry from a simple embrace
The echoes of distant emotions,
Resonate an irregular cadence
That resembles the stuttering, clutter of desire.
A caress inflames a sentence of promise.
A paragraph ascends from a kiss.
And how many graves are saved for words and phrases,
Vanquished in the tangling of hands and fingers.

© Neil D. Ray

I do not have words for you.
The lips tremble, but will not part.
A deluge of emotions and memories
Surging from my heart,
Cascading from my mind,
Have swollen my tongue condemning
syllables to their fate.
My eyes absorb your image.
A keepsake of splendid reflections
Secured in the comfort of my soul.
I glorify you.
I honor you.
Quiet definitions in resonate tones.
There is a chill of autumn in the air.
Night offers no resistance,
And the leaves do not whisper in complaint.
I look to a sky filled with souls awaiting passage.
I feel your presence.
Patiently, with mouth closed, eyes open,
Heart joyous, and mind clear.
I find a place in the garden,
Where we maintain conversations until dawn.

In Lieu of A Great Understanding
© Neil D. Ray

In lieu of a great understanding, all we do is cry.
Whenever, we gather to speak of the dream,
we find ourselves hesitating to ask why?

Why even the simplest of promises will die,
in the twisting course of the human stream.
In lieu of a great understanding, all we do is cry.

As the clouds in the heavens pass us by.
We are left here drowning in necessity,
and still we are hesitating to ask why?

For we have prayed a thousand prayers,
until our hands and hearts bleed in humility.
There, on our knees at the altar by the stairs.

And we have prayed a thousand prayers,
to every god in heaven and on earth.
We have wagered our souls to be heard.

Our hopes and convictions live in each word.
Yet, we understand not the language, nor its worth.
So we continue to hesitate, still asking why?
In lieu of a great understanding, all we do is cry.

© Neil D. Ray

What we are now, is what we were in the beginning. As we will,
no doubt be, in the unsuspecting end. If we could have known,
when we stepped from the garden. All the journeys we would travel,
just to be here. Then surely, we would have been obedient to the cause.
Eons of sunrises and sunsets have textured our existence.
We have tilled every soul and challenged every voice. Sometimes
aging in twilight. Sometimes passing into dawn. Time will not
grant us pause to address our instance. Only an occasional dream,
that is overly expressed to fiction more than fact. We ponder the ground it walks
upon, stilled by the echoes that cry----remember!
We have long since relinquished the desire for too much insight. Its
punishing taste is still fresh upon our tongues. Yet, we still bare the
emotion, for which there was no name, from a place lost to eternities.
Even in exile, binding us, without remorse to these uncommon destinies.

[email protected]  or  [email protected]


Ward Kelley has seen more than 1100 of his poems appear in journals world wide. A Pushcart Prize nominee, Kelley's publication credits include such journals as: ACM Another Chicago Magazine, Rattle, Zuzu's Petals, Ginger Hill, Sunstone, Spillway, Pif, 2River View, Melic Review, Poetry Life & Times, Thunder Sandwich, The Animist, Offcourse, Potpourri and Skylark. Recently he was the recipient of the Nassau Review Poetry Award for 2001. Kelley is the author of two paperbacks: "histories of souls," a poetry collection, and "Divine Murder," a novel; he also has an epic poem, "comedy incarnate" on CD and CD ROM.

Quote from Ward:
"As for me, I'm a 51 year old business executive with 3,600 people in the division reporting to me. I only mention this because in a sense the daimon that propels my occupation also propels my poetry. For instance, Gertrude Stein once said, "If Mr. Robert Frost is at all good as a poet, it is because he is a farmer -- really in his mind a farmer, I mean." So in my mind am I a businessman who writes poetry, or a very minor poet successful at business? Who knows? Yet I tread carefully with this balance for fear my daimon will leave me, or my greed will taunt me for decades.

Formerly I managed distribution centers in Pennsylvania, Ohio, California, Arizona and Illinois. My wife and I now live outside of Indianapolis and are currently toiling with much determination on our second crop of children, having adopted four wonderful girls and fostered several others."

Of the 1162 published pieces, some have found their way into:


"comedy incarnate" on CD ROM
by Kedco Studios (Las Vegas, NV)

"histories of souls" an ebook & POD
by Word Wrangler Publishing, Inc. (Montana)

"comedy incarnate" on AUDIO CD
by Artvilla (Tennessee)

"the naming of parts" an ebbok
by Shyflower Press (Minnesota)

NEW: "Divine Murder" a novel, paperback
by Word Wrangler Publishing, Inc. (Montana)*
*Editor's Note: I have read "Divine Murder" and thoroughly recommend this compelling story concerning the divine, the diabolical and the struggles of two mortals to discover their momentous destiny.

Of the 1008 published pieces, some have found their way into:

ACM, Another Chicago Magazine
Ginger Hill
The GSU Review
The Listening Eye
The Lucid Stone
Mad Poets Review
Nassau Review
The Old Red Kimono
Porcupine Literary Magazine
River King
Sulphur River Review

Adirondack Review
The Animist
Big Bridge
Lynx: poetry from Bath
Melic Review
The Paumanok Review
Poetry Life & Times
Poetry Magazine.Com
The Rose & Thorn
San Francisco Salvo
Thunder Sandwich
2River View
Unlikely Stories
Zuzu's Petals

Our Greatest Endearment
© Ward Kelley

Knowing we will die, we persist in hope;
seeing our end as clearly as our mortal
hand before these temporal eyes, we still

go forward with building those edifices
we most love; for all humans build what
they must, some actual buildings, others

families or accounts or simply the absolute
love of one other human, but all strive, and
in this there is hope. Knowing there is an end,

we strive, we build, we hope, and this is our
greatest endearment to the gods, for of all
earth's creatures, all of whom strive, we are

the only ones who recognize the transitory
condition of all our efforts, the finality.
Knowing we will die, we persist in hope.

This Experimental Personality
© Ward Kelley

I cannot leave it go, cannot shake it
loose from whatever moors it, cannot

find a way to loosen it from my being . . .
at last I begin to suspect it is me, it is

an intrinsic part of me that as much as
I want to sever it from my being, to do

so would be to jettison my very life.
What has given me this soul? Who

elected me to take part in this experimental
personality? Why me, and not one of

those hundreds of people I see daily who
appear to be so contented with their lives?

There are no answers to such questions,
answers that I cannot, myself, derive . . .

so the very thing that torments me, is also
that which drives me forward; and this

is most likely true in all of us, our faults,
which keep us from what we would call

happiness, are also the catalysts for what
we attain in life . . . our faults are our fuel.

What the Heart Can Claim
© Ward Kelley

Truth is what is felt to be certain
as it is spoken, it is what the heart

can claim as its own, and will bear
later introspection without changing

tint. Truth is that which will leave
a mark on the minds of others even

if they don't believe the thought as
true. It can surprise; it can be

rejected; but truth can seldom be
buried for it will always burrow

to the surface as easily as it can
worm its way into the hearts of

disbelievers. Truth and science always
end as friends, although they usually

begin as enemies. Truth and poetry,
though, consort with an odd sexuality.

The Circumference of Jack
© Ward Kelley

I do not understand the ink
that runs down the pages,
once white but now worded
by someone else.

I don't comprehend the words
which I have dissected heart
from lung, nail from bone, words
now resting fragile before me.

And who can know of the forlorn
space above these wordy remnants,
space that must be described by those
who have been marked as poets?

Marked as surely as one is strapped
to the dolly for a death by injection,
and from this needle, from this blood,
come the words who seek to run and run.

Artist's note:
Jack Spicer (1925-1965), was an American poet who published several collections during his brief life. Trained as a linguist, Spicer was active in the San Francisco poetry scene during the 50s and 60s. Perhaps today he is most renowned for his theories describing poetry as dictation from a source outside the poet; theories he delivered in a short series of lectures in Vancouver where he portrayed poets as radio receivers. He died at San Francisco General Hospital from alcohol poisoning; his last words were, "My vocabulary did this to me."

Come To Be Matched
© Ward Kelley

To name all the parts of a harness . . .
seems a unbearable task,

seems a forlorn mistaking
of proper work, seems like

a thing not worthy
of a woman or a poet,

for the naming is not
really important,

even the recognition
is not our main task,

but instead it is the notion,
the embrace of the thought,

how we all, each of us,
all of you, and every single

soul, and all the parts of a soul,
come to be matched with all

parts of the harness we hold clenched for
every day and every death in our very hands.

Artist's note:
Katherine Anne Porter (1890-1980) was a highly acclaimed American author, winner of both a Pulitzer and a National Book Award. She once wrote, "I was brought up with horses, I have harnessed, saddled, driven and ridden many a horse, but to this day I do not know the names for the different parts of a harness. I have often thought I would learn them and write them down in a note book. But to what end? I have two large cabinets full of notes already".

[email protected]

Click here for March 2002 Featured Poets page 2 --> link for second half of featured poets....

Poetry Life & Times is a nominating site for The Poet's Hall of Fame.

Nomination from the FEBRUARY 2002 issue:

William DeVault.


   22nd Annual Fields of Earth Poetry Contest

   Sponsored by The Writers' Ink Guild and The Arts Council of Fayetteville

                                        Adult:  	Love
		    Children: 	Grades K-5
				Grades 6-12

   This contest is open to everyone but Writers' Ink Members

   Awards:  1st, 2nd, 3rd, and Honorable Mention in each category.
Deadline for entries is March 22, 2002. To enter, submit the poem (limit 3 per poet) along with a cover sheet identifying the name, address, telephone number, category, and title of poem. All poems must be 32 lines or less. A reading fee of $1.00 per poem is required. Poems cannot be returned. Poems must be original. Send all entries to:
Fields of Earth Poetry Contest
PO Box 53594, Haymount Station
Fayetteville, NC 28305
A Special Award Ceremony will be held April 7, 2002 at the Arts Center.
The public is invited.

This Writers' Ink Guild is an all volunteer, nonprofit literary organization based in Fayetteville, North Carolina. It is a member organization of the Fayetteville/Cumberland County Arts Council. All fees are used to defray the costs of the contest and the awards ceremony.

This is the 22nd anniversary of the Writers' Ink Guild. Since its inception, the Guild has been instrumental in the establishment of many regionally significant cultural and artistic programs. It has done this through journals, radio, school programs, writers' workshops, open mikes, and special events. The Guild believes that literature is crucial to the cultural enrichment of all members of society and welcomes the public to its meetings and events.

For additional information contact:
J A Samuelson, President, at 910-868-5066
or Jo Weyant, Secretary, 910-488-9105

Est-ce que ça vous pique de composer des sonnets de temps en temps?

Alors, allons-y! Faites-moi parvenir jusqu'à un maximum de trois (3) de vos sonnets, afin que je puisse les évaluer en but d'en éditer quelques-uns, s'il y a lieu, dans le prochain numéro du nouveau E-Zine canadien bilingue,

Sonnetto Poesia

qui fait sous peu son entrée sur la scène littéraire internationale.

Veuillez me les envoyer par le courriel chez :

[email protected]

- ou, alternativement, chez :
[email protected]

Si vous avez des questions à me poser, s'il vous plaît, n'hésitez pas à me les communiquer!


Bien à vous,

Richard Vallance

Do you write sonnets every now and then?

Then you're in the right place! The international bilingual Canadian E-Zine:

Sonnetto Poesia

which has just made its début on the international stage, is now accepting submissions for its second issue, Vol. 1, no. 2, Summer, 2002.

You may submit up to three (3) Sonnets to Richard Vallance at:

[email protected]

or [email protected]

The deadline for submissions is
May 1st., 2002.
If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me.


Sincerely yours,

Richard Vallance

Welcome to the WEB's newest bilingual Canadian poetry E-Zine:

Bienvenue chez la toute nouvelle revue bilingue canadienne portant sur la posie sur l'Internet:

Poetry in Emotion
la poesie s'mouvoir

Volume 1, no. 1, Autumn, 2001
of this Quarterly E-Zine is now online (See link following parallel French text):

Vous pouvez enfin lire le tout premier numéro de cette revue trimestrielle (celui de l'automne, 2001).
Pour vous y acheminez, vous n'avez qu' cliquer sur le lien suivant:

The featured artist for our first issue is the American poet, Mykael-Eagleton Mize.

L'artiste en vedette de notre premier numéro est un pote américain, qui s'appelle Mykael-Eagleton Mize.

Should you have any comments or suggestions,
please feel free to sign our Guest Book.

Si cela vous pique de nous faire des commentaires ou des suggestions,
n'hésitez pas signer notre petit Livre d'or!

Val Magnuson Galactic Poet Award



anthology, by Kedco Studios Artist Profile Press.

An exciting collection of award-winning poetry and short stories.

Enquiries to Elaine Davis at [email protected]

THE PERILS OF NORRIS cartoon, #20 - a tale of sphinxes and divas.... Spot Reginald The Rat and win a prize! Email [email protected] and say where he is and what he is doing...

Historical Note: Oscar Wilde regarded Sarah Bernhardt (1844-1923) as one of his muses and occasionally dedicated poetry to her. Sarah Bernhardt was a successful tragedian actress with a highly-developed sense of style and fashion. Some say she was never really happy. She was in numerous plays and wrote books on the theatre and her own life.

The Perils of Norris started in August 2000. To catch up on past episodes, click the links below, then your browser's Back button to return.

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