Wednesday, May 16, 2007

This Thursday Poetry Workshop and Glass Flute show and play: tomorrow, May 17, 2007

Thursday Evening Poetry Workshop carried on in style while we were in Puerto Rico (here's the group waving to us on one of the days we were gone...from our own living room!) This week the workshop will begin promptly at 6:30, dinner snacks served and poetry started immediately. Afterwards, Rick will provide the entertainment, a presentation of his rare crystal glass flute, made in France by Claude Laurent in 1834. He'll play one set of Variations by Jean Louis Tulou which is music of the time, and would have been played on such a flute. Announcement: Look see our CaLokie is the new featured poet on Kath's Ephemeral Poetry Blog. It was such a delight to be able to do this... and I am not finished. More photos and some sound files to come. This week Thursday workshop, at 7:30 Kath has to leave go to an important choral rehearsal, for the Glee Club Concert at Caltech. (It's free and all opera, very entertaining. It's 8 P.M. on Friday and Saturday nights on the Caltech campus. Friday at Dabney Lounge, Saturday at Ramo Auditorium. The locations are right across from one another, near the center of campus and very close to our house. Park there. Here's the Caltech map More reports will follow here...I am planning to make links to ur past Thursdays, with all ur traveling I have not shown you glimpses of the past few weeks and they were wonderful! More soon, and see you Thursday!

1 comment:

Dovina said...

Kath,
I miss you and these wonderful evenings. I've pedaled to Kentucky with only 3400 miles to go. Here's an offering if you wish to share it:

The Happy Side of Misery
By Sharon Hawley

On a country road in mid-Virginia,
a cyclist pulls another hill,
past a house with mammoth lawn
and dairy barn behind.
Oaks and poplars catch the sun
and glisten with the grasses,
soothing tired eyes with
forty shades of southern green.

Bovine eyes look up from munching,
distracted by a passing beast,
a strange one this, not making sense.
Free from fence and milking tubes,
instead of lying in the shade,
she pants a lonely hill.

Rebuke arose as proud I watched them,
a preacher in a wandering soul.
You fear the pain of flimsy fence,
Perform the duties of your breed.

Then came to mind the antsy spirit,
wrestling with the norms,
how I give so much for danger
and magnify the little gain.

In weariness of afternoon,
as alcohol, so legs draw concentration,
leave the brain to wander
and strain to hold the narrow way,
no shoulder but a drop-off,
a coal truck bearing down.

Here I go, a long new road,
like going back again,
not so sure this hilltop hides
just another downhill ride.