The Garden Girl

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Virginia, United States
Living - Life - Simply - I garden some, write a little, and enjoy sharing a view - feel free to leave a view of your own.

Sunday, October 16, 2011

PSV Western Conference & Sunday's Poetry Offering

Yesterday was the Poetry Society of Virginia's Western Conference which was held at the Riverviews Art Space in Lynchburg. It was a wonderful
gallery and though the meeting itself was slightly delayed due to a locked conference room - it was finally opened and surprisingly filled with a great
exhibit - vibrant paintings that made the room dance along a long conference table and plenty of comfy boardroom type chairs (me liked!!) The new VP
of the PSV western region Tom Morris set up a wonderful conference that included readings and a workshop with poet,novelist, and playwright Jim Peterson. He engaged the group with several tips on writing and performed a couple writing tasks with the group. It was one of the best workshops I've attended!  Jim is on the faculty of the University of Nebraska's Low residency MFA Program in Creative Writing and is Writer in Residence and Coordinator of Creative Writing at Randolph College in Lynchburg, Va.  His poetry book, The Owning Stone, was the winner of the Benjamin Saltman award. Here's a pic of some of his works but there are others. I've selected one of his poems for my Sunday Poetry Offering.

Poet/Author/Playwright Jim Peterson
"The Owning Stone"
"An Afternoon with K"
"The Bob and Weave"


Jim Peterson's:

"Letting the Dog Die"

The horses thunder
in the fields tonight.
A breeze stays high in the pines.
The dog squeezes out
from under the house
and stares at the ball
til he falls asleep
curled around my foot.
For the first time in months
the air is cool.
The front door drifts on its hinges
the old chair lounges on the lawn.
The horses rest,
lean over fences
pawing the ground.
inviting my hands to their faces,
to their withers and the sweet scratching spots.
The hammock sways
under loblolly pines
and Orion's belt.
But I'm stuck to the ground
by one foot
under the sleeping dog
who dreams of lightning and thunder,
of mud at the edge of the pond,
who dreams of the flight of old tennis balls
made better than food,
better than rolling in manure,
by the touch of these human hands.

1 comment:

  1. How lovely. I am glad you enjoyed the conference.

    ReplyDelete

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