tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14914431553807868872024-02-19T05:11:51.018-05:00THINK LONG ISLAND FIRSTGoods made on Long IslandEwa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.comBlogger148125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-21518664235989221722013-07-04T11:07:00.000-04:002013-07-04T11:07:12.031-04:00"i live here", Long Island Poem for the 4th of July weekend, 2013Today seems like a good time to stop and ponder on wheres and whys. We hope you will find this poem by Tom Stock, who lives and writes in the midst of the Pine Barrens, inspirational.<br />
<br />
<b>i live here</b><br />
<i>Tom Stock</i><br />
<br />
on sand, near water<br />
with gentle morane<br />
a cape spread to the north<br />
in the spring and fall plankton bloom<br />
in winter where hot water pond doesn't freeze<br />
in spring and last years garlic bulbs sprout<br />
<br />
I live here<br />
with two million others<br />
500,000 cars<br />
mall upon mall upon mall<br />
litter concentrated at every exit<br />
noise<br />
<br />
I live here<br />
boat lines canal, white sails full<br />
dunes with red bands of sand at their base<br />
pine barrens dry crikley oak leaves afoot<br />
tall tulip trees with old barked trunks<br />
the birds, the birds, the birds<br />
a great egret flaps over Southards Pond<br />
white sheet drying on a line<br />
<br />
i liver here<br />
since 1962 to learn to smell salt air<br />
to hike, to pick off ticks<br />
to sit against a tree<br />
write this poem<br />
<br />
<i>i live here</i> by Tom Stock.<br />
Published with author's permission. <br />
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Previous Long Island Poem for Sunday - <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2013/03/promise-rebirth-and-wonder-long-island.html">"promise, rebirth and wonder", Long Island Poem for early spring Sunday</a><br />
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-71383114055346358122013-04-19T23:38:00.000-04:002013-04-19T23:38:03.840-04:00Cherry blossom on Long Island by Marzena Grabczynska LorencWe have requested a few spring images of Long Island from Long Island photographer, Marzena Grabczynska Lorenc of <a href="http://www.thrumarzenaslens.com/" target="_blank">Thru Marzena's Lens</a>. She had sent us some wonderful shots taken at the gems of Long Island's North Shore - Planting Fields Arboretum and Mill Neck Manor.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW-y2rdzXbGdGfVIyoMCfTlA734pmnkCEvg9HTuTaICC-ILHhGDIvv1oEPjzGSkmDu7Os56Tdn_9mJmBRA-I4QbCOj2TZCb0sTBr0mXEyyHB0_9b9JKSXHG63kvqrFpyNKH6WoJnVNez8/s1600/Mill+Neck+Manor+1.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW-y2rdzXbGdGfVIyoMCfTlA734pmnkCEvg9HTuTaICC-ILHhGDIvv1oEPjzGSkmDu7Os56Tdn_9mJmBRA-I4QbCOj2TZCb0sTBr0mXEyyHB0_9b9JKSXHG63kvqrFpyNKH6WoJnVNez8/s200/Mill+Neck+Manor+1.jpg" width="200" /></a></td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvvJTCV5pG77kW-Ec3SrOFcVjVVDzTnQ9986TnIoO9ZOWAIH43cBgCwmyvqL4-GzGjcW4pxP57eNmBisCMtobLq5y0Pvqnot0ajIusH91FZ9uM6Lics0r0bmLwf6aFGGVC64nBb9Nlye4/s1600/Mill+Neck+manor+3.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvvJTCV5pG77kW-Ec3SrOFcVjVVDzTnQ9986TnIoO9ZOWAIH43cBgCwmyvqL4-GzGjcW4pxP57eNmBisCMtobLq5y0Pvqnot0ajIusH91FZ9uM6Lics0r0bmLwf6aFGGVC64nBb9Nlye4/s200/Mill+Neck+manor+3.jpg" width="200" /></a></td>
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<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4a_v0GEoLoT9W4cR8Pj3BSjmM7RrE7_NOI_Rs2eEWAxacyw-7j4VdwcEoZ2BCvxyc1dsYv0LBzfNLOXd8lfm0nprQz-j-3ng9oeFQR8ajhoOzvl4FokMqeIq7nUGnR4DWu-J4jX4sw-I/s1600/Planting+Fields+2.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4a_v0GEoLoT9W4cR8Pj3BSjmM7RrE7_NOI_Rs2eEWAxacyw-7j4VdwcEoZ2BCvxyc1dsYv0LBzfNLOXd8lfm0nprQz-j-3ng9oeFQR8ajhoOzvl4FokMqeIq7nUGnR4DWu-J4jX4sw-I/s200/Planting+Fields+2.jpg" width="200" /></a></td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Bux_dLp9VlQBJaT5yXAMIWVKgkGXuIJ7bIWgPSl1_KxF0_pbbhx-jG7tqX8tvbpFwisMI54Mlfp24iukHv-6wQ87GNXEtzvoo_LoAekAZys2bjxUDeehqnKZ-nd7QXuEP4zMgY2J2GU/s1600/Planting+Fields+1.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Bux_dLp9VlQBJaT5yXAMIWVKgkGXuIJ7bIWgPSl1_KxF0_pbbhx-jG7tqX8tvbpFwisMI54Mlfp24iukHv-6wQ87GNXEtzvoo_LoAekAZys2bjxUDeehqnKZ-nd7QXuEP4zMgY2J2GU/s200/Planting+Fields+1.jpg" width="200" /></a></td>
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<tr><td anor="" avg8yvygutk="" bp.blogspot.com="" colspan="2><a href=" eck="" http:="" ill="" imageanchor="1" jf8vm5jws="" jpg="" ms="" s1600="" uybk9i=""><img border="0" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK7rigRWrK-ep8uV73osFdeOMn_HMMihdSNMpRfVeLGsJX9el60KBk0IVvHrKLb80K0FKdn-ZdKWM1_x5fW_QiBxtPZBlWpxzY4_frU0qPkSGpu0uuqGCZcHaZ1LN37jatvMmXv1ZJYYU/s400/Mill+Neck+Manor+2.jpg" width="400" /></td></tr>
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-5258944494536334832013-03-24T00:00:00.000-04:002013-03-24T00:04:57.836-04:00"promise, rebirth and wonder", Long Island Poem for early spring SundaySpring, the miracle of rebirth — beautifully put by the East Rockaway poet Peter V. Dugan.<br />
<br />
<b>Spring is near</b><br />
<i>Peter V. Dugan</i> <br />
<br />
as snow melts away<br />
soil thaws, becomes soft and moist<br />
green sprouts welcome warmth<br />
<br />
green sprouts welcome warmth<br />
trees await their new wardrobes<br />
buds ready to bloom<br />
<br />
buds ready to bloom<br />
birds sing from limbs and branches<br />
croon songs of courtship<br />
<br />
croon songs of courtship<br />
sweet sounds of life fill the air<br />
as Winter's grays fade<br />
<br />
as Winter's grays fade<br />
new colors emerge daily<br />
nature born anew<br />
<br />
nature born anew<br />
promise, rebirth and wonder<br />
as snow melts away<br />
<br />
<i>Spring is near</i> by Peter V. Dugan.<br />
Published with author's permission.<br />
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Previous Long Island Poem for Sunday - <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2013/02/paumanok-long-island-poem-for-sunday-in.html">Paumanok, Long Island Poem for Sunday in more ways than one</a>
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</div>Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-27630109670729863152013-02-24T05:24:00.001-05:002013-02-24T05:24:59.336-05:00Paumanok, Long Island Poem for Sunday in more ways than oneThis poem by Linda Trott Dickman reflects Long Island in more ways than one, it is shaped like it.<br />
<br />
<b>Paumanok</b><br />
after Mardsen Hartley<br />
<i>Linda Trott Dickman</i> <br />
<br />
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">diving
</span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">south
east </span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">of
the bulk,</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">too
close to the lure,</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">a
fish separated </span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">from
the school there trod </span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">the
good gray poet </span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">trailing
through leaves </span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">of
grass leaving large </span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">impressions
a goodly way to follow </span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">the
child chased </span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">the
tides, sucked the salt from her hair</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">was
snatched from the jaws </span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">of
undertow by her hero.</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">she
learned to drape herself, like a jig, </span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">feathers
catching</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">more
than light. a kaleidoscope for a lens, </span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">she
explored houses of light, learned</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">the
strokes, the songs. </span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">shores
frilled like a collar</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">of
green in scrub pine, beach plum</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">at
the north, sandy marsh for a hem.</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">reeds,
the wind section</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">of
the rolling</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">music
of the sea, the pines </span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">singing
high </span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">over
the storms</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">rivers
wound their way</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">from
headwaters to mouths</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">showing
the riches</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">of
their banks </span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">suffering
</span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">from
the wounds </span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">of
the greedy</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">gouging,</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">her
from </span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">pectoral fin</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">to pelvic</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">gasping for</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">air still.</span></div>
<br />
'Paumanok' by Linda Trott Dickman.<br />
Published with author's permission.<br />
<br />
Linda introduced herself: "Linda Trott Dickman has been making poetry since her early days at sleep away camp. She grew up here on Long Island and is a school librarian who has just earned her MFA from Adelphi University. This poem was born in a workshop in Maine with poet Kathleen Ellis. Our subject? Island Poetry."<br />
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Previous Long Island Poem for Sunday - <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2013/02/only-moon-now-knows-long-island-poem.html">"Only the moon now knows", Long Island Poem for Chinese New Year Sunday</a><br />
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-49901996177400972022013-02-10T00:00:00.000-05:002014-08-21T13:04:09.365-04:00"Only the moon now knows", Long Island Poem for Chinese New Year Sunday<table class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin: 0 0 0 1em;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv-9tAXGJwf7FhKOJ7_q0h1FvAifJtlbT2S5B3mj5bYcocqEVhcNIAJc-hicnmGQraFcUX2hQ6rfOb72tlgt2v4_B7JtvDIvw5sOxwWUH0WuHPizyzW1e8K_S1CtUA5ZwfpiaTQ046lOs/s1600/Slave+Girl+original.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv-9tAXGJwf7FhKOJ7_q0h1FvAifJtlbT2S5B3mj5bYcocqEVhcNIAJc-hicnmGQraFcUX2hQ6rfOb72tlgt2v4_B7JtvDIvw5sOxwWUH0WuHPizyzW1e8K_S1CtUA5ZwfpiaTQ046lOs/s200/Slave+Girl+original.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Text of the original</td></tr>
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To mark the Chinese New Year of 2013 let us read the haunting poem by Bai Juyi as translated and interpreted by <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2013/02/bringing-chinese-poetry-into-english.html">John Digby and Lesli Bai</a>.<br />
<br />
Bai Juyi, a prolific poet, high governmental official, "pillar of society" owned many concubines, courtesans, and slave girls. Cruel by our standards, cruel by the standards of his own age (he lived 772–846), the poet was not insensitive to the plight of the unfortunate women.<br />
<br />
Leslie comments on the poem: "Cast as a dramatic monologue, it expresses his conflicted emotions of compassion and affection, cruelty and loss."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihz97EpBOFK9EBnd8XnZmM6q1nWiNgJhB7H_vRo0VRnwUb-YXdDS2J23-edpsVSKnI9FJA5y3kg92yg5R01cP6IPZE9gLkiPMgzA0DHO7huPRqszFZ-N1AmGggTCYmiyjKF3RAwpeyRNE/s1600/Slave+Girl+cover+image.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihz97EpBOFK9EBnd8XnZmM6q1nWiNgJhB7H_vRo0VRnwUb-YXdDS2J23-edpsVSKnI9FJA5y3kg92yg5R01cP6IPZE9gLkiPMgzA0DHO7huPRqszFZ-N1AmGggTCYmiyjKF3RAwpeyRNE/s200/Slave+Girl+cover+image.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Illustration by John Digby</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Losing a Slave Girl</b><br />
<i>Bai Juyi</i><br />
Translation by <i>John Digby</i><br />
<br />
My estate is enclosed by a low<br />
wall of stones and rubble<br />
<br />
You absconded<br />
probably at night<br />
and to be honest with you<br />
I harbor no grudges<br />
<br />
The population tally<br />
of missing persons<br />
was nailed to the gate<br />
long after you fled<br />
<br />
Now I know how unkind<br />
and mean I was to you<br />
<br />
Can't think of any caged bird<br />
that doesn't want its freedom<br />
or gale-blown flowers attempting<br />
to cling to their branches<br />
<br />
This evening<br />
I sit pondering<br />
whether you are running or hiding<br />
<br />
Only the moon now knows<br />
how much distance<br />
has come between us<br />
<br />
<i>Losing a Slave Girl</i> (March 2011), appreciation of the poem by Bai Juyi with English improvisation and illustrations by John Digby. Published by <a href="http://pp-pub.com/" target="_blank">Prehensile Pencil Publications</a>.<br />
Reprinted with publisher's permission. <br />
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Previous Long Island Poem for Sunday - <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2013/01/old-hatred-drifted-in-long-island-poem.html">"Old hatred drifted in", Long Island Poem for Martin Luther King Sunday</a><br />
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-655569606983395942013-02-08T15:55:00.000-05:002013-02-08T17:52:25.175-05:00Bringing Chinese poetry into the English world - John Digby and Leslie Bai<table class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin: 0 0 0 1em;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdTx2B9Djtbh7DxK6CquKwmGjLxBOIG5tGA7x95qowt7UzNS7jxqbISxlUdFOEG8JexlOKLuwcaWM9fqtIUNgtT6NKdjH3ye4zOX3qy-uuMU9hyphenhyphen9p_x-l13jYZip7Ub1-gn42deN5GoaA/s1600/Leslie+and+John.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdTx2B9Djtbh7DxK6CquKwmGjLxBOIG5tGA7x95qowt7UzNS7jxqbISxlUdFOEG8JexlOKLuwcaWM9fqtIUNgtT6NKdjH3ye4zOX3qy-uuMU9hyphenhyphen9p_x-l13jYZip7Ub1-gn42deN5GoaA/s200/Leslie+and+John.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Leslie Hong Ai Bai and John Digby</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Oyster Bay poet and collagist <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/10/john-digby-and-democratic-art-of.html" target="">John Digby</a> was already working with Chinese poetry and published a few translations by the time he met Leslie Hong Ai Bai, a linguistics scholar, currently at LIU Post, a colleague of his wife, poet <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/09/at-home-with-artists-joan-and-john-digby.html">Joan Digby</a>. Leslie, born in China to Korean parents, is in command of various oriental languages in addition to English and French.<br />
<br />
Since 2010, they collaborated on a number of themes: horses, women - particularly the neglected, unloved or no longer loved ones, animals, landscapes. They dug out poems for Cold Food Festival, forgotten holiday which now enjoys a revival. All work is by poets active until the 19th century. These are some of their published works - <i>Cold Food Festival</i>, <i>The Horse in Chinese in Chinese Poetry and Culture</i>, <i>Simple Simple</i>, <i>Losing a Slave Girl</i>, <i>Three Neglected Chinese Women: Three Deserted Tang Poets</i>, <i>The Sword Dance</i>.<br />
<br />
In their work they try to convey the tone of the poem and stay away from the literal translation. In case of the Chinese poetry the latter is almost impossible to accomplish, as even in the original the poems can be read in many different ways.<br />
<br />
There are very many translations of the classic <i>'At Summit Temple'</i> (李白: 题峰頂寺(夜宿山寺)) by various Western poets. This is John and Leslie's take on it:<br />
<br />
危樓高百尺﹐<br />
手可摘星辰。<br />
不敢高聲語﹐<br />
恐驚天上人。<br />
<br />
Big climb this!<br />
<br />
Breathless dizzy<br />
and panting I've<br />
attained the summit<br />
<br />
I quiet my heart<br />
hold my breath<br />
looking into infinity<br />
<br />
Now I could reach up<br />
cradle a star in my hand<br />
but scarcely whisper a word<br />
for fear of waking up deities <br />
<br />
Chinese poems, minimalistic gems, are typically composed of 4 lines of 5 to 7 characters, like the one above. There is no subject, no personal pronouns, no gender, no tenses. There exists rhyme and rhythm of the rising and falling phonetics of the characters. The characters themselves may have up to 30 varied meanings and are often complex, rarely used characters to mark the skill and knowledge of a poet - poetry was a domain of highly skilled individuals who strutted their linguistic dexterity like peacocks. Many poems are not easily understood by an average person of today.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij_8cBs98os3TzhEcuUq4g3nfXGsaaqpHsth1tNfAc8ezvLtM13DDq3tPijFklblOUnFDxu2cT4kuepFqvLzNfL3iUdEHTWC7Idjl0c0-bmKwPaTsuQaGTQvIxeI_zKq9DDYtQCka-G-I/s1600/Leslie+and+John+working+together.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij_8cBs98os3TzhEcuUq4g3nfXGsaaqpHsth1tNfAc8ezvLtM13DDq3tPijFklblOUnFDxu2cT4kuepFqvLzNfL3iUdEHTWC7Idjl0c0-bmKwPaTsuQaGTQvIxeI_zKq9DDYtQCka-G-I/s200/Leslie+and+John+working+together.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Leslie and John revising text</td></tr>
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The process of bringing a translated poem to its satisfactory stage is long and arduous. John and Leslie agree on a topic. Leslie researches potential candidates. A choice is narrowed down to a poem. John learns as much as possible about the author's life and environment. Leslie transcribes the individual characters of the poem into Pinyin. John analyzes every Pinyin character and attempts to construct a meaning or rather a mood from the puzzle before him. Leslie elaborates on metaphors and hidden meaning in the poem, provides additional background. Initial translation is created.<br />
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At this stage the battle of wits and esthetics commences. John wants to put in every shade of meaning that transpires. Leslie strikes out half of the words. They encounter numerous cultural differences. One memorable clash happened over a translation of 'green window'. Heated discussion revealed that for John green window was a window with stained glass. For Leslie it was a color of leaves outside - old Chinese houses did not have glass windows, it was the color of leaves that reflected on paper panels. Revision after revision follows, the work may take up to six months to complete. Leslie creates commentary on the poet, poet's time and customs.<br />
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Revisions of the poem <i>'Cold Food'</i>:<br />
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<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBNezxCyNaXNfyhdZX1j_eQ7b8v8vkOEENx1vm1ud_sWNdv5skkCNHBTH-Ua0z6La5DzgDZP-sm88GyOiJ_qwiWsftvCRUn6natwYREbnJTA7yWw8JbbF6WOmQNsfBFW3izXXQNEYQ8ew/s1600/stage1.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBNezxCyNaXNfyhdZX1j_eQ7b8v8vkOEENx1vm1ud_sWNdv5skkCNHBTH-Ua0z6La5DzgDZP-sm88GyOiJ_qwiWsftvCRUn6natwYREbnJTA7yWw8JbbF6WOmQNsfBFW3izXXQNEYQ8ew/s200/stage1.jpg" width="160" /></a></td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikDOyOfix2VoiB8FO4AYAnAJMNk7dSxx8Ec_pJ15G2KJCyhem2YBITXbh4dP7S2tmTRC4pnqokbKZqx_-sOni5cMDvAYK1P-DcCZKk7QMjBJE5n-wN4wl5gwtPTBKKZUU_tc7rR_Tn54I/s1600/stage4.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikDOyOfix2VoiB8FO4AYAnAJMNk7dSxx8Ec_pJ15G2KJCyhem2YBITXbh4dP7S2tmTRC4pnqokbKZqx_-sOni5cMDvAYK1P-DcCZKk7QMjBJE5n-wN4wl5gwtPTBKKZUU_tc7rR_Tn54I/s200/stage4.jpg" width="160" /></a></td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKXQYbIh91Ay1IBaMf7r90xIaOWXb4nIBv5EP_fObacItyyK0etjLC6nqLaeOyRfpJHpc5cqUYcUbkyUCOycoyrNID5AI-pPGnUCrRxYk_OuX3NufiOdGCtsPbCsoc6hRemVb1n6-cCSo/s1600/stage3.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKXQYbIh91Ay1IBaMf7r90xIaOWXb4nIBv5EP_fObacItyyK0etjLC6nqLaeOyRfpJHpc5cqUYcUbkyUCOycoyrNID5AI-pPGnUCrRxYk_OuX3NufiOdGCtsPbCsoc6hRemVb1n6-cCSo/s200/stage3.jpg" width="160" /></a></td>
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Please come back soon to enjoy a beautiful poem <i>'Losing a Slave Girl'</i> in the upcoming <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/p/poem-for-sunday.html">Long Island Poem for Sunday</a> series.<br />
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-55084229615759367802013-01-20T00:00:00.000-05:002013-01-20T00:00:06.962-05:00"Old hatred drifted in", Long Island Poem for Martin Luther King Sunday"This is a story handed down in my family, I heard it from my Mother." - Locust Valley poet Ray Simons.<br />
<br />
<b>The Legend of John Casey's Stand</b><br />
Locust Valley, Long Island 1920's<br />
For Mom<br />
<i>Ray Simons</i><br />
<br />
Rural times, depression<br />
& dirt poor.<br />
Another immigrant wave,<br />
from the 1840's never stopping,<br />
the boats of Irishmen came.<br />
Here on the North Shore,<br />
the soon to be Gold Coast,<br />
the Irish, the Italians<br />
worked Big houses & farms<br />
a cycle unchanged,<br />
as the new comers<br />
do now.........<br />
and an old hatred drifted in.....<br />
maybe from the South<br />
maybe from the soul.....<br />
& the cross of terror<br />
burned again.<br />
This time the Irish,<br />
"We'll teach that<br />
Damn Mick!"<br />
His wife saw it first,<br />
the flickering glow<br />
& the figures in darkness<br />
surrounding that cross<br />
like the Banshee's of old.<br />
"Don't go, Johnnie" she begged<br />
but she knew it was useless,<br />
his kind of anger burned<br />
hotter than<br />
coal.<br />
He stood on his porch<br />
and cursed them for cowards,<br />
then strode to the field<br />
to confront them by name.<br />
"Take off your sheets, you yellow<br />
streaked bastards" then<br />
he called them by name<br />
but stepped forth not a one.<br />
With one great kick he<br />
toppled the fire<br />
and spat his contempt<br />
on the cross and<br />
was done.<br />
He turned back to<br />
his house<br />
& he left his<br />
good neighbors.......<br />
He shut his porch light<br />
and the crowd<br />
did abate.......<br />
Now they'd have to<br />
find..........<br />
someone safer to hate.<br />
<br />
<i>The Legend of John Casey's Stand, Locust Valley, Long Island 1920's</i> by Ray Simons.<br />
Published with author's permission.<br />
<br />
Ray retired from FDNY-EMS and writes as part of poetry therapy. <br />
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Previous Long Island Poem for Sunday - <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2013/01/a-clear-midnight-long-island-poem-for.html">A Clear Midnight, Long Island Poem for Sunday</a><br />
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-89265461860690757122013-01-06T00:00:00.000-05:002013-01-06T00:00:03.793-05:00A Clear Midnight, Long Island Poem for Sunday<table class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin: 0 0 0 1em;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz_rt4m28SWkB7_aELQW0CPBsOOoPZtHHybJpX2xzAjCRJUnBHGLy5-Tc_g4ItYpY4CG_IPz_E7ftQAb71Pgn8vOCMYC7Os9PphgR56J0KOSatiz3-P1ZMsqpUQ-ExRFuhGcJ5Qcz_g-4/s1600/A+Clear+Midnight+manuscript-resized.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz_rt4m28SWkB7_aELQW0CPBsOOoPZtHHybJpX2xzAjCRJUnBHGLy5-Tc_g4ItYpY4CG_IPz_E7ftQAb71Pgn8vOCMYC7Os9PphgR56J0KOSatiz3-P1ZMsqpUQ-ExRFuhGcJ5Qcz_g-4/s200/A+Clear+Midnight+manuscript-resized.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Manuscript of <i>'A Clear Midnight'</i><br />
from the Walt Whitman Archive </td></tr>
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<b>A Clear Midnight</b><br />
<i>Walt Whitman</i><br />
<br />
THIS is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,<br />
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,<br />
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes<br />
thou lovest best,<br />
Night, sleep, death and the stars.<br />
<br />
<b>'A Clear Midnight'</b> by Walt Whitman from <i>Leaves of Grass</i>.<br />
Reprinted after <a href="http://whitmanarchive.org/published/LG/1881/poems/287" target="_blank">The Walt Whitman Archive</a>. In public domain.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.whitmanarchive.org/manuscripts/figures/loc.00083.001.jpg" target="_blank">Manuscript of an early version</a> has the title of this poem as 'A Starry Midnight'. We find the published title 'A Clear Midnight' freed of visual references and thus much stronger. A beautiful poem.<br />
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Previous Long Island Poem for Sunday - <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/12/enchanted-place-on-island-long-island.html">Enchanted place on the island, Long Island Poem for New Year's Eve Sunday</a><br />
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-12567868968213432662012-12-30T00:00:00.000-05:002012-12-30T00:00:03.858-05:00Enchanted place on the island, Long Island Poem for New Year's Eve SundayWe all have our very own places on the island that cast their spell if we stop long enough to reflect. Patti Tana presents hers: "The pond behind my home is a source of delight and inspiration in all seasons."<br />
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<b>The Pond on Kaintuck Lane</b><br />
<i>Patti Tana</i> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim5QmYJY1G8jluVx29TCRtyBzlDNS_WiRt4fh1Xc05oYC2n1_dnnlF5uhQxwMF_Qw3PxiJrrvqB-OcNQBVE14BAHCKZhophBgvhxfnJmP7xE61um4qJADpPHdjfiaJyZeM2g8856xgVRE/s1600/IMG_6743+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim5QmYJY1G8jluVx29TCRtyBzlDNS_WiRt4fh1Xc05oYC2n1_dnnlF5uhQxwMF_Qw3PxiJrrvqB-OcNQBVE14BAHCKZhophBgvhxfnJmP7xE61um4qJADpPHdjfiaJyZeM2g8856xgVRE/s200/IMG_6743+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
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Before the Epsteins built this house<br />
and the small stone dam, a vernal pond<br />
swelled and shrank in a summer<br />
meadow of grazing cows.<br />
Glazed with winter<br />
the pond drew the children<br />
down from the hills ––<br />
voices ringing, ice skates zinging.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIqDvcN1XxzQv9j2PskkBGRO3Aue-FY41YEpS8JPpTYNZC19-A-t2aJdXVusrN02z-nlsFRLZAX00cvyFKbRzbFavi6oZuWfZDbNKFAvPrMi7P1EwullrrDzQViQKYs0QAmsOHgqx5iRE/s1600/IMG_6741+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIqDvcN1XxzQv9j2PskkBGRO3Aue-FY41YEpS8JPpTYNZC19-A-t2aJdXVusrN02z-nlsFRLZAX00cvyFKbRzbFavi6oZuWfZDbNKFAvPrMi7P1EwullrrDzQViQKYs0QAmsOHgqx5iRE/s200/IMG_6741+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
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Cows are gone, but behind the house<br />
the pond still lives, larger and deep,<br />
freezing and thawing with the seasons.<br />
Ducks and geese and swans feast<br />
on floating gardens.<br />
In winter they stamp and peck<br />
and plow through ice forming<br />
solid skin on the fluid pond.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIHktd_5JUvkoKNZoiT34Kct1DRu58lZCF9TQ9y96EvZnkrOfYrQNNCDB8p8eaF0C_LSIPopBrXFj93jQ8evay6hNC4QKLYxmVTeuvKWgnTuOn9lE5-izx5KRDH-naX7UZpOIRyK_5HtA/s1600/IMG_6749+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIHktd_5JUvkoKNZoiT34Kct1DRu58lZCF9TQ9y96EvZnkrOfYrQNNCDB8p8eaF0C_LSIPopBrXFj93jQ8evay6hNC4QKLYxmVTeuvKWgnTuOn9lE5-izx5KRDH-naX7UZpOIRyK_5HtA/s200/IMG_6749+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
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On the other side<br />
a train flickers through the trees<br />
while a dragon, lit mouth to tail,<br />
courses through the water.<br />
The moon casts a shimmering glow.<br />
And when no moonlight hides their light<br />
the pond draws the stars down the sky<br />
into the indigo night.<br />
<br />
'The Pond on Kaintuck Lane' by Patti Tana.<br />
Published with author's permission.<br />
<br />
Patti Tana, Professor Emerita of English at Nassau Community College, is associate editor of <i>Long Island Quarterly</i> and the Walt Whitman Birthplace Long Island Poet of the Year 2009. Her eighth collection of poems is <i>Any Given Day</i> (Whittier Publications, Inc., 2011). Listen to her read her poems at <a href="http://www.pattitana.com/" target="_blank">www.pattitana.com</a>
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Previous Long Island Poem for Sunday - <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/12/lonely-plum-island-christmas-1843-long.html">Lonely Plum Island Christmas 1843, Long Island Poem for Sunday</a><br />
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-29029117750335296042012-12-23T00:00:00.000-05:002012-12-29T08:23:33.177-05:00Lonely Plum Island Christmas 1843, Long Island Poem for Sunday<b>Christmas--1843</b><br />
<i>Sarah D. Bowditch</i><br />
<br />
Amid the world's gay throngs to-night<br />
There's mirth and festive glee;<br />
But none amid those hearts so light<br />
Will cast one glimpse on me.<br />
<br />
No ray from Hope's bright star is cast<br />
To this lone isle of the sea;<br />
And lonely and sad the Christmas has passed,<br />
And left no mirth for me.<br />
<br />
There's many a friend that once caressed,<br />
As merry as merry can be;<br />
But, ah! the one that I love best<br />
Will forget to think of me.<br />
<br />
Then turn my soul away from earth;<br />
Look upward still, and see<br />
The stars that shine on the halls of mirth<br />
As brightly beam on thee.<br />
<br />
Then let me not murmur at my fate,<br />
Though lonely and sad I may be,<br />
For the angels whose birth we celebrate,<br />
Brought "tidings of joy" to me.<br />
<br />
We have found this poem on the <span id="goog_190606967"></span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/">Long Island Chapter of the U.S. Lighthouse Society<span id="goog_190606968"></span></a>, based in Cutchogue. <br />
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Previous Long Island Poem for Sunday - <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/12/all-i-want-for-christmas-long-island.html">All I want for Christmas, Long Island Poem for Sunday</a><br />
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-144429651356979342012-12-16T00:00:00.000-05:002012-12-16T00:00:09.453-05:00All I want for Christmas, Long Island Poem for Sunday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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How poignant does today's poem sound. We want our close ones safe, be it on antipodes or in our home towns.<br />
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<b>All I want for Christmas</b> <br />
<i>Claudia Sukman</i><br />
<br />
You were motionless under the blankets<br />
Waiting for Santa
Listening to the whispers of your father and me as we slipped in and out of rooms<br />
Unearthing presents to wrap<br />
Listening to the savory sounds of scissors, marching through gift paper<br />
Listening to the scrunch of cellophane tape, measured out and sliced<br />
Closing eyes to hurry away the night<br />
So that it could be Christmas<br />
<br />
You are motionless inside the darkness<br />
Hearing shows slither though the Baghdad night<br />
Hearing the heavy fabric of a <i>chador</i> sweep into a recessed doorway<br />
Hearing the exhale of a breath un-tethered<br />
You wait, wishing for the dawn to come<br />
So that it could be light<br />
<br />
I am motionless, watching the snow whitewash the night sky<br />
Inhaling the Christmas tree<br />
Shaking our the last drops of eggnog from the carton<br />
Waiting<br />
Wanting you safe<br />
Wanting you home<br />
<br />
'All I want for Christmas' by Claudia Sukman. Included in <i>Stocking Stuffers / seasonal and holiday poems</i> by <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.pp-pub.com">Prehensile Pencil Publications</a>. For purchase at Think Long Island First.<br />
Published with author's permission.<br />
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Previous Long Island Poem for Sunday - <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/12/feast-long-island-poem-for-chanukah.html">Feast, Long Island Poem for Chanukah Sunday</a><br />
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-57071992666126841452012-12-11T00:00:00.000-05:002012-12-11T00:00:12.154-05:00Think Long Island First store to close at the end of December<table class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 0pt 1em;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Think Long Island First logo" border="0" height="85" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PD-kT9yufHs/TJwQGSoW4vI/AAAAAAAAAPM/yy4Y9LGURLQ/s200/LOGO_jpg.jpg" width="200" /></td></tr>
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Dear Artists and Supporters,<br />
<br />
We regret to inform you that the Think Long Island First store in Oyster Bay will close its doors on December 31st.<br />
<br />
More than two years ago we have set up to bring locally made items to the wider public. Having started with 28, we have grown to display works of over 130 Long Island artists - wood turners and carvers, potters, quilters, jewelers, knitters, painters, photographers, writers, chefs, soap and candle makers among others. Our goal was not only to fill the shelves with locally made items, but also to present the artists, their techniques, stories, and inspirations.<br />
<br />
This has been an immense experience for both of us - from an incredible learning process in all matters of arts and crafts to the unforgettable chance of forging relationships with the local artists, our loyal customers, and local organizations.<br />
<br />
Our deep appreciation goes to artists who trusted us with their artwork, to customers who chose to purchase unique, local wares, and to supporters who participated in various events we have staged at the store and in the local communities. We are vastly indebted to All for this opportunity.<br />
<br />
As we close this chapter we are preparing for the next. Jolanta will resume full time management of her husband's medical practice, continue good work with various charities on Long Island, and enjoy time with her two little grandsons. Ewa returns to full time engagement with a New York City based charity helping children in developing countries obtain free, quality cleft lip and palate care. She plans to complete her family tree project and explore poetry translation.<br />
<br />
With our thanks and best wishes,<br />
<br />
Ewa and Jolanta<br />
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-22488334656945660442012-12-09T20:33:00.000-05:002012-12-09T20:50:08.881-05:00Holiday gifts $25 and underJust a few ideas of gifts $25 and under - jewelry for her, books and calendars for him, decorative accents and ornaments for home, treats for dogs, items for horsemen, candles for ambiance lovers, delicious cookies and biscotti for epicures: <br />
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<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbmiz6E-bkQqDQDxo9oZZVDAHqVzO9AWqrPvLOf8ao5vhImM-Wr4SJ3UCodaZqrmm2fjNe7TM-dTqA0LP6FtCk_rySzeDB9-CVI1Qzu_EEP4XoZHFO2p0GRVkBtndcQKWeBZC7CsjW8dU/s1600/Gea-Hines_beads.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbmiz6E-bkQqDQDxo9oZZVDAHqVzO9AWqrPvLOf8ao5vhImM-Wr4SJ3UCodaZqrmm2fjNe7TM-dTqA0LP6FtCk_rySzeDB9-CVI1Qzu_EEP4XoZHFO2p0GRVkBtndcQKWeBZC7CsjW8dU/s200/Gea-Hines_beads.jpg" width="160" /></a>
</td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBJijYXntN9RdZNVY1rE73mWoqGvOYCN5OD2a2aLBSLa_IQJi31ujhwA5TBka1aWAwoBGPIS559UP_MnjHox0dAP6ycD-RKmkQoa3B7V5IgERsF0U-VMbZmerIBiujp8N6-t11aO8t6KY/s1600/Don-Dailey_ornaments.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBJijYXntN9RdZNVY1rE73mWoqGvOYCN5OD2a2aLBSLa_IQJi31ujhwA5TBka1aWAwoBGPIS559UP_MnjHox0dAP6ycD-RKmkQoa3B7V5IgERsF0U-VMbZmerIBiujp8N6-t11aO8t6KY/s200/Don-Dailey_ornaments.jpg" width="160" /></a>
</td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHgZoGUI5mycRDNGyF4BgO_t7o_QotgpCzsObdibKFRe_F3qIMTVDF-c85PXDzeoicWvdXixajGTIDoehOA-NVbcjjXZshwkZTCD-41qzpZgPrOLaOGNQJrOhJagrOSv5wrW38pbrrsSs/s1600/Chris-Murphy_ornaments.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHgZoGUI5mycRDNGyF4BgO_t7o_QotgpCzsObdibKFRe_F3qIMTVDF-c85PXDzeoicWvdXixajGTIDoehOA-NVbcjjXZshwkZTCD-41qzpZgPrOLaOGNQJrOhJagrOSv5wrW38pbrrsSs/s200/Chris-Murphy_ornaments.jpg" width="160" /></a>
</td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Colorful glass beads<br />
fired by Gea Hines </td><td class="tr-caption">Hand carved ornaments<br />
by Don Dailey </td><td class="tr-caption">Shining glass ornaments<br />
decorated by Chris Murphy </td></tr>
<tr>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-q2TJ6sTMrDpq_XAhHN9MNgXUbx3pZObFDQ82NliMRkrmIzdYV6dN1pRzHDIsyFmw2PbHrPaV8JKtRkR8N6GAm18UbOEC_5RnGH0kyPm3SNHsoTkbDD-xjfnq-fgCY-PMThYnvShU_lk/s1600/Caroline_Kielbasa_runner.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-q2TJ6sTMrDpq_XAhHN9MNgXUbx3pZObFDQ82NliMRkrmIzdYV6dN1pRzHDIsyFmw2PbHrPaV8JKtRkR8N6GAm18UbOEC_5RnGH0kyPm3SNHsoTkbDD-xjfnq-fgCY-PMThYnvShU_lk/s200/Caroline_Kielbasa_runner.jpg" width="160" /></a>
</td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9dFA5nH-FcT0sXh1ZMNNrAEW6TjlPr5JLA5VltU9TdcRaIVGGdYCnUKoWBYVVfsko2UGtdLtj_uiOiMjEmkmOKHt8yLUdxRaek9e5HVcLyeZTsLH2CzrRQimetcsHm0jm9m3k8kFf-k/s1600/East-End-Candle.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9dFA5nH-FcT0sXh1ZMNNrAEW6TjlPr5JLA5VltU9TdcRaIVGGdYCnUKoWBYVVfsko2UGtdLtj_uiOiMjEmkmOKHt8yLUdxRaek9e5HVcLyeZTsLH2CzrRQimetcsHm0jm9m3k8kFf-k/s200/East-End-Candle.jpg" width="160" /></a>
</td><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlnQTWjmLzpmqxcfhjiXW6cmgAVwLQTKB19j5CrG0r0dYHtJKOHyTTz-vHOTvpkrzDV7G4Tlri00Bo-g7RSj16kXt30qyfDahEbVkFY2kEmUwfwVUCq9Og39IvLdNvI_I6gcdc0htnel8/s1600/Lorraine-gratitude.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlnQTWjmLzpmqxcfhjiXW6cmgAVwLQTKB19j5CrG0r0dYHtJKOHyTTz-vHOTvpkrzDV7G4Tlri00Bo-g7RSj16kXt30qyfDahEbVkFY2kEmUwfwVUCq9Og39IvLdNvI_I6gcdc0htnel8/s200/Lorraine-gratitude.jpg" width="160" /></a>
</td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Horse theme table runner<br />
by Caroline Kielbasa</td><td class="tr-caption">Pine scented candles<br />
from East End Candle </td><td class="tr-caption">From Bliss to Gratitude<br />
by Lorraine Miller </td></tr>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHEsZeioJqoLLd9NhAd6BTtbYtS_UqEssvjicdfANLjaTGVKfBT-86L5-G000t7K8I7AQz21f43OHBN4piU19QnDurzr4Hrzp4AFHMniwDsuVKz33Y5SuqKN4pQp_W8GC0jCW5aCSd8w0/s1600/Lexis-Barker.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHEsZeioJqoLLd9NhAd6BTtbYtS_UqEssvjicdfANLjaTGVKfBT-86L5-G000t7K8I7AQz21f43OHBN4piU19QnDurzr4Hrzp4AFHMniwDsuVKz33Y5SuqKN4pQp_W8GC0jCW5aCSd8w0/s200/Lexis-Barker.jpg" width="160" /></a>
</td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Favic4SFyRFkltSLxcENdWrX-1rmnDP5TQB4pwPKYwj9wTbGQJf66PRweIAKzel0w8gSw2llYRKaoQcm2FpBf4hJPnYpcz2GVbFxiuiQ_wDah6jmQ6Ii9ART4-oQ95NY8ZI6hobRXzE/s1600/Jennifer-Hochbert_biscotti.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Favic4SFyRFkltSLxcENdWrX-1rmnDP5TQB4pwPKYwj9wTbGQJf66PRweIAKzel0w8gSw2llYRKaoQcm2FpBf4hJPnYpcz2GVbFxiuiQ_wDah6jmQ6Ii9ART4-oQ95NY8ZI6hobRXzE/s200/Jennifer-Hochbert_biscotti.jpg" width="160" /></a>
</td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrET4INDbUNdSGBdoRQvE0_awAjn2yt_BJpdtAZsMnDEyE5gzN037eNg3Pn3EJfN0FR_7o6YupCLibM-AJAn6r35vwpMUVa3AZp-g6SrmNHUuKWMYglOaC6ig7yhpumaiqtuzRkG-O7OU/s1600/Jamesport-candle.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrET4INDbUNdSGBdoRQvE0_awAjn2yt_BJpdtAZsMnDEyE5gzN037eNg3Pn3EJfN0FR_7o6YupCLibM-AJAn6r35vwpMUVa3AZp-g6SrmNHUuKWMYglOaC6ig7yhpumaiqtuzRkG-O7OU/s200/Jamesport-candle.jpg" width="160" /></a>
</td>
</tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Tantalizing dog treats<br />
from Little Lexi's Barkery </td><td class="tr-caption">Cookies and biscotti - sweet!<br />
by Stone Ridge Farm </td><td class="tr-caption">Relaxing candles <br />
from Jamesport Candle</td></tr>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPffUVrjy5cejddkt146BXtsQT8Do5yiqFSK0Qs73su1bv7gOtvFZMOnfXD08PnviY9T9-HN8WlmSJiYN2U0V2MNxqn2V_NOpeUecDjhdSOu89aoGimTcyOwTijS97PrJMaKzR-sMA3Qw/s1600/Linda-Mondello_cards.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPffUVrjy5cejddkt146BXtsQT8Do5yiqFSK0Qs73su1bv7gOtvFZMOnfXD08PnviY9T9-HN8WlmSJiYN2U0V2MNxqn2V_NOpeUecDjhdSOu89aoGimTcyOwTijS97PrJMaKzR-sMA3Qw/s200/Linda-Mondello_cards.jpg" width="160" /></a>
</td><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDG9vrVOKSJ9RrsaIdFICDbvkmYbRolS6IMU2cxgfwPIcOifvr0W4peqCPkqIlh94h3VbK2rkbqsnHDmWw0kNtXZkMaltVL1u1rb4rMfo11pfDjk9ZbzYPyZx6whKK-YJcPpSpAIBCLRM/s1600/Susan_Linares-gingerbread-soap.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDG9vrVOKSJ9RrsaIdFICDbvkmYbRolS6IMU2cxgfwPIcOifvr0W4peqCPkqIlh94h3VbK2rkbqsnHDmWw0kNtXZkMaltVL1u1rb4rMfo11pfDjk9ZbzYPyZx6whKK-YJcPpSpAIBCLRM/s200/Susan_Linares-gingerbread-soap.jpg" width="160" /></a>
</td><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg74tGwq75NqPeeh8kl7gnihyphenhyphenk9uo8qvYJy8JqnYEsiE949US7_IyyXwnjB-G0O1Jfa8AvlQyZWw2nwkuufdsAOta4iUS9EOBhiiMmqyFN-wnEHHPqtSgbOg7UUOdZGLgfjQFXPk-ey3Ig/s1600/majolica_ornaments.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg74tGwq75NqPeeh8kl7gnihyphenhyphenk9uo8qvYJy8JqnYEsiE949US7_IyyXwnjB-G0O1Jfa8AvlQyZWw2nwkuufdsAOta4iUS9EOBhiiMmqyFN-wnEHHPqtSgbOg7UUOdZGLgfjQFXPk-ey3Ig/s200/majolica_ornaments.jpg" width="160" /></a>
</td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Christmas cards - The Farm<br />
by Linda Mondello</td><td class="tr-caption">Gingerbread soap - Naturally<br />
Handmade by Susan </td><td class="tr-caption">Majolica clay ornaments<br />
handpainted by Sue Adler </td></tr>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGlCCqxe_okxpM21E3cNbhOIYZNx8KO8QJPDG5a66NbY3H-Z2-8JPQpqQbCvmcs4kJwXBtKtfnQqHWN1FayDZxrNMx85sbpKvu9R_n5-r-cwTuC27YflvLgN5BTKw_S3izY9pQHOwa5zE/s1600/Mollie-Eckelberry_calendar.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGlCCqxe_okxpM21E3cNbhOIYZNx8KO8QJPDG5a66NbY3H-Z2-8JPQpqQbCvmcs4kJwXBtKtfnQqHWN1FayDZxrNMx85sbpKvu9R_n5-r-cwTuC27YflvLgN5BTKw_S3izY9pQHOwa5zE/s200/Mollie-Eckelberry_calendar.jpg" width="160" /></a>
</td><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEtAP5s7ubobBki44xkJk9in1ccB3SiNq6Bg01n3UZKnrqJPfvMEVv4pXxcjkOUFKQyauVwOYWG_kVqN2ogCnKvCVzJ9wYvkrVIHBmNWRy0n5WTXKhveMdZXtmpsJJZ0rNWW_dtsQFR9g/s1600/Nancy-Ferrari_ornament.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEtAP5s7ubobBki44xkJk9in1ccB3SiNq6Bg01n3UZKnrqJPfvMEVv4pXxcjkOUFKQyauVwOYWG_kVqN2ogCnKvCVzJ9wYvkrVIHBmNWRy0n5WTXKhveMdZXtmpsJJZ0rNWW_dtsQFR9g/s200/Nancy-Ferrari_ornament.jpg" width="160" /></a>
</td><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE-tYRHrCK8OTzjWMTPtSwxKjzkjoKEKlL3AScvo6Jaijd14joU2YALrDHe-NUEBqsL6yAR3qfuuVvzuS-ZGMvO3YjgoCz7ypeHNh4MdaPYNCdu0ikuQAi5_xZ-c0ZzhQtMGMwf0QGgiU/s1600/Sharon_LaMonica_charms.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE-tYRHrCK8OTzjWMTPtSwxKjzkjoKEKlL3AScvo6Jaijd14joU2YALrDHe-NUEBqsL6yAR3qfuuVvzuS-ZGMvO3YjgoCz7ypeHNh4MdaPYNCdu0ikuQAi5_xZ-c0ZzhQtMGMwf0QGgiU/s200/Sharon_LaMonica_charms.jpg" width="160" /></a>
</td></tr>
<tr>
</tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Dog calendar for 2013<br />
by Mollie Eckelberry</td><td class="tr-caption">Wood block ornament<br />
by Nancy Ferrari </td><td class="tr-caption">Clips and charms<br />
by Sharon LaMonica </td></tr>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpYbP-QKcUNVxdN5THDFdx8kFHpJzUOwePeyTbSxogSESz8VwucEXeq7P-STXsb_RmNXGdUtoAa5wLcCLn6k82WJcnyRfEHR8UBhFeCQyT4yrUIKdJOeES_uqQlBwpM3Bl0VTtTsNH9CA/s1600/Susan-Linares_peppermint-soap.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpYbP-QKcUNVxdN5THDFdx8kFHpJzUOwePeyTbSxogSESz8VwucEXeq7P-STXsb_RmNXGdUtoAa5wLcCLn6k82WJcnyRfEHR8UBhFeCQyT4yrUIKdJOeES_uqQlBwpM3Bl0VTtTsNH9CA/s200/Susan-Linares_peppermint-soap.jpg" width="160" /></a>
</td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgff2abukt-dWeplD5ykBTwyMBhYta2EiqxIlqRcCy07oTA_GWOup5h8FUe5Hur6sFOgyGvSig8gMvPnW0yJnb5Kt8PVW-CN9IF3v1Jtx2CKDnw0LbxrcfIHtgE1J_BiQe2LBOlMlZzhFE/s1600/Jane-Cairns-Irvine_pendants.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgff2abukt-dWeplD5ykBTwyMBhYta2EiqxIlqRcCy07oTA_GWOup5h8FUe5Hur6sFOgyGvSig8gMvPnW0yJnb5Kt8PVW-CN9IF3v1Jtx2CKDnw0LbxrcfIHtgE1J_BiQe2LBOlMlZzhFE/s200/Jane-Cairns-Irvine_pendants.jpg" width="160" /></a>
</td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6x2RNO5yT6xLVVbgAZygNzNlVOABJiS6wsaRqUB1hneQv6YiH7YDCuyV-4p8-STEWUH-npeZQOz-T9O4RIwfAcUoGJuICaAkQ0zQBtRwC3Fj1vZxrPIEWsFOW82Bz_3VBB9F09e2frkE/s1600/Stocking+Stuffers.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6x2RNO5yT6xLVVbgAZygNzNlVOABJiS6wsaRqUB1hneQv6YiH7YDCuyV-4p8-STEWUH-npeZQOz-T9O4RIwfAcUoGJuICaAkQ0zQBtRwC3Fj1vZxrPIEWsFOW82Bz_3VBB9F09e2frkE/s200/Stocking+Stuffers.jpg" width="160" /></a>
</td>
</tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Peppermint soap<br />
by Susan Linares</td><td class="tr-caption">Captivating glass pendants<br />
by Jane Cairns Irvine </td><td class="tr-caption">Holiday poetry as read at<br />
Small Business Saturday</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-19113786502674046292012-12-09T00:00:00.000-05:002012-12-09T21:27:31.055-05:00Feast, Long Island Poem for Chanukah SundayThere are many ways to celebrate the approaching holidays and our melting pot era favors these and more - you may deck the halls and a Christmas tree (so Dickensian yet originated in late 15th century Germany), light up 9 menorah candles (since 2nd century BCE), erect a Festivus pole (in popular culture since 1997), hang a bunch of mistletoe to kiss under (first documented in 16th century England), share fresh Kwanzaa fruit (since 1966), mark winter solstice (since Neolithic times).<br />
<br />
Polish tradition has it that animals speak in human voices on Christmas Eve. What would cats under the care of poet Joan Digby tell us?<br />
<br />
<b>Feast</b><br />
<i>Joan Dibgy</i> <br />
<br />
<table class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin: 0 0 0 1em;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDTQaG9DBog1ZeejH8Oiy5NNR9a1biq3Wp-1hYUoYBcF01mv7DtclAamVB_1KvZBu8Bi1DrzjBJIzQ_hy1b5prhH3pz9qg2RHxvOL1lRJirVFyxIDGyeTTEVFG_QowrcYI-GHWXSUTeCI/s1600/Joan-Digby-chanukah.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDTQaG9DBog1ZeejH8Oiy5NNR9a1biq3Wp-1hYUoYBcF01mv7DtclAamVB_1KvZBu8Bi1DrzjBJIzQ_hy1b5prhH3pz9qg2RHxvOL1lRJirVFyxIDGyeTTEVFG_QowrcYI-GHWXSUTeCI/s200/Joan-Digby-chanukah.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Photo by Joan Digby</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Today I fed the cats<br />
on sturgeon<br />
<br />
It's Chanukah<br />
and who knows<br />
but in the colony<br />
there lurks<br />
a Jewish feline<br />
assimilated<br />
yet longing for food<br />
that strongly smells<br />
of the old country<br />
<br />
'Feast' by Joan Digby. Included in <i>Stocking Stuffers / seasonal and holiday poems</i> by <a href="http://www.pp-pub.com/">Prehensile Pencil Publications</a>. For purchase at Think Long Island First.<br />
Published with author's permission.
<br />
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Previous Long Island Poem for Sunday - <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/12/the-cardinal-long-island-poem-for-sunday.html">The Cardinal, Long Island Poem for Sunday</a><br />
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-8554546138193744052012-12-02T00:00:00.000-05:002012-12-02T12:40:13.627-05:00The Cardinal, Long Island Poem for Sunday<b>The Cardinal</b><br />
<i>Patricia Rossi</i><br />
<br />
I beckon you in the early morn to dance upon my bedroom windowsill and just as accordion streaks of radiant light gently awaken my sleepy eyes from a peaceful night of slumber, may my drowsy ears hear your voice, a melodious proclamation that a new day has graciously been bestowed upon me.<br />
<br />
And just when your symphonic chirps grace the final stanza of your jubilant morning song, I will lift my head and heart to the heavens, join my hands in solemn prayer and humbly request that my path be laden with plentiful sightings of you today….everyday.<br />
<br />
Spring…On a quiet evening, may I be so blessed as to capture a glimpse of you as you gracefully flutter in a field bursting with pink wildflowers, just as the sun begins its amber descent.<br />
<br />
Summer… In mid-afternoon when a threatening sky suddenly prevails and a harsh rain temporarily begins to fall upon us, may I find you precariously tucked in a hydrangea tree, sheltered from the pounding precipitation by its purple hued floral spheres.<br />
<br />
Late Fall… May my eyes behold you resting upon a weathered flower box packed with vibrant autumn colors….Amongst the burnt orange and bright yellow petals there you are…. donned in a dangling ivy vine, faded to the palest of sage greens by the warmth of summer days gone by.<br />
<br />
And deep in Winter… when I am indeed blinded by whiteness, miraculously I see you, majestically perched on a snow blanketed branch.<br />
<br />
Indeed, you are more than a red feathered cloaked Christmas beauty.<br />
<br />
Truly you are as brilliant in color, as you are in meaning.<br />
<br />
You evoke the spirit and the destiny of the loved ones I have lost.<br />
<br />
For the world is now theirs, un-tethered souls, free to soar and able to triumphantly rejoice, as they make their presence known to me each and every day……….through you.<br />
<br />
'The Cardinal' by Patricia Rossi. Included in <i>Stocking Stuffers / seasonal and holiday poems</i> by <a href="http://www.pp-pub.com/" target="_blank">Prehensile Pencil Publications</a>. For purchase at Think Long Island First. <br />
Published with author's permission.<br />
<br />
Patricia introduced herself: "I am an attorney by trade, but my true passion is writing. A number of my personal essays have been published. I have dabbled in the arts, love creating collages. I have done some grant writing and actually have been awarded grants from NYS. I utilized the funds to create art classes and poetry appreciation for children grades 1-4 in lower income areas of Nassau County. It has been quite rewarding. The funds have run out, but with the assistance of the Freeport Memorial Library I keep the program running. I also currently teach creative writing workshops to cancer survivors and teens."<br />
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Previous Long Island Poem for Sunday - <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/11/holiday-poems-by-edmund-miller-long.html">Christmastide Haiku and Going Home for Christmas by Edmund Miller</a><br />
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-69036213561860767662012-11-29T10:29:00.000-05:002012-11-29T10:29:33.281-05:00Store decked for the holidays<i>Partridge in a Pear Tree</i>, our signature red ribbon everywhere, winter hat and scarves, soft glow candles, sparkling jewelry, festive cards, Christmas quilts, gifts of carved and turned wood, ceramics and coasters, gingerbread and peppermint soaps, snowmen, and more gifts and more holiday red...<br />
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<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLBs_AnfpOTLofkcFomgrGtAAvshsc2dOWxStrRbbZ8DDIAvH-4jqc6mhBhV3y8p3aHArcHYowBnXWzyztQLffeYqv17bYk47BIHCw0nQvQhwYqKSj19NZPRrBve_peTHmPCU_1f6shCo/s1600/IMG_7816+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLBs_AnfpOTLofkcFomgrGtAAvshsc2dOWxStrRbbZ8DDIAvH-4jqc6mhBhV3y8p3aHArcHYowBnXWzyztQLffeYqv17bYk47BIHCw0nQvQhwYqKSj19NZPRrBve_peTHmPCU_1f6shCo/s200/IMG_7816+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" width="150" /></a></td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiouZfCSUWNN76dwSUB9x9zXB1qtQJYdkTpM9S_9Mwr8pXNMnplgzJo8g93zpPlFxWKsMb1g3Tn3eD6wfnLiSd5X3VtBCT_W8jJiG1F6F57Ci1XCm0hTPXR_Evv4RXnBGUC7Twk7zBMVAY/s1600/IMG_8020+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiouZfCSUWNN76dwSUB9x9zXB1qtQJYdkTpM9S_9Mwr8pXNMnplgzJo8g93zpPlFxWKsMb1g3Tn3eD6wfnLiSd5X3VtBCT_W8jJiG1F6F57Ci1XCm0hTPXR_Evv4RXnBGUC7Twk7zBMVAY/s200/IMG_8020+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" width="150" /></a></td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDgAIU5v2mnglld2kiAVFoi9Iax7j57D5oxqDwkqzu8e4iSJvMTySByb4Wysq73WECviwDG9nBsf1Np_MkIxYxTeqH07uE3DDAfkR2Ufwhc485uiP6wIwLd7dnFUytM52TuU8863bPWIA/s1600/IMG_8029+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDgAIU5v2mnglld2kiAVFoi9Iax7j57D5oxqDwkqzu8e4iSJvMTySByb4Wysq73WECviwDG9nBsf1Np_MkIxYxTeqH07uE3DDAfkR2Ufwhc485uiP6wIwLd7dnFUytM52TuU8863bPWIA/s200/IMG_8029+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" width="150" /></a></td>
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<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWYzjVqK6she-x2x4WaiQpK8AXkwRhHW1dvPwInM5ql0c5JOXkZiZWuxzHcXgpS4epdH9yBo5EhIu0myd1UOrfrIb48bIrgXrhrG4UzDLZw-9f-tls3qSwka_vxfOxX-U7VNoiqehAkc0/s1600/IMG_7821+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWYzjVqK6she-x2x4WaiQpK8AXkwRhHW1dvPwInM5ql0c5JOXkZiZWuxzHcXgpS4epdH9yBo5EhIu0myd1UOrfrIb48bIrgXrhrG4UzDLZw-9f-tls3qSwka_vxfOxX-U7VNoiqehAkc0/s200/IMG_7821+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" width="150" /></a>
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<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy9__95_PZT_8H0LxKD-j5eaDN3_sCvexJyWeN0iQK6__MHqjAfMQTSmvJoBfFRfj5HN2nOzeolC4lHRql97QBg-c10Ds8eVQvEwuiDh_QLD00An1A26njE7Cn4UF1tW2IbUtsST-C8os/s1600/IMG_7815+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy9__95_PZT_8H0LxKD-j5eaDN3_sCvexJyWeN0iQK6__MHqjAfMQTSmvJoBfFRfj5HN2nOzeolC4lHRql97QBg-c10Ds8eVQvEwuiDh_QLD00An1A26njE7Cn4UF1tW2IbUtsST-C8os/s200/IMG_7815+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" width="150" /></a></td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoXj3bRA-2ymkymWMti5Hcyttcm-mldJWTsxrJddhuoxadIrf_OLH78-YxtntYcY5uaQ46Dzks8sBeTyEJZzbJV3oI_Xguq7M241JJv7Pk_rhRchixuNfZhVW0mhZ3qfIsOT-ywITpv0Q/s1600/IMG_7822+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoXj3bRA-2ymkymWMti5Hcyttcm-mldJWTsxrJddhuoxadIrf_OLH78-YxtntYcY5uaQ46Dzks8sBeTyEJZzbJV3oI_Xguq7M241JJv7Pk_rhRchixuNfZhVW0mhZ3qfIsOT-ywITpv0Q/s200/IMG_7822+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" width="150" /></a></td>
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<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiboiNtl-sZIojMru9h4HtNfx1u0SQ6pN4OKW9vxNBX6ARA02-_TeMCJpZgJ6LFbEO3USvNtExFstui3E1qOvnlqar3i_KHJk7GWN8bN4LuUjs-uyZ-r5o618QuNbbqetDHFHm2EBPQrj4/s1600/IMG_7834+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiboiNtl-sZIojMru9h4HtNfx1u0SQ6pN4OKW9vxNBX6ARA02-_TeMCJpZgJ6LFbEO3USvNtExFstui3E1qOvnlqar3i_KHJk7GWN8bN4LuUjs-uyZ-r5o618QuNbbqetDHFHm2EBPQrj4/s200/IMG_7834+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" width="150" /></a></td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwiG4WAVElxorae_a8-qwdFEObh2vAybv9TO4GKD7TeHPYrhcpgPaTCL3EGugzT8jlx1Y7m7NQS-Msyr8ezdrIR1_z3KRptwaQC0OtByjXBn4ZDUPee5j_4qzaP6orVuN56DF6mtouPlw/s1600/IMG_7814+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwiG4WAVElxorae_a8-qwdFEObh2vAybv9TO4GKD7TeHPYrhcpgPaTCL3EGugzT8jlx1Y7m7NQS-Msyr8ezdrIR1_z3KRptwaQC0OtByjXBn4ZDUPee5j_4qzaP6orVuN56DF6mtouPlw/s200/IMG_7814+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" width="150" /></a></td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQdm5sBSHOI5_R2qXA-PMKQXgCfJAuuobTFuTFkr6hAptxjjpfopt5XsPZpdK2VFAb9hGuY7YyFrFEWzbWNXhiaxYdHtEny_ex7W2ZTkTwF0fhzY1jWtahpZp02evUT_mulan6O_cEKkA/s1600/IMG_7819+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQdm5sBSHOI5_R2qXA-PMKQXgCfJAuuobTFuTFkr6hAptxjjpfopt5XsPZpdK2VFAb9hGuY7YyFrFEWzbWNXhiaxYdHtEny_ex7W2ZTkTwF0fhzY1jWtahpZp02evUT_mulan6O_cEKkA/s200/IMG_7819+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" width="150" /></a></td>
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<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS_Ttax8XvkHQPAUmRsa6ScSlIcxcUg3L7E1JUhyphenhyphenllGihTsql3VHMxT8xvb5cvlGvmSsDCQB3x1jWCvrmTKm30kTvEDfGYsc-JWUD1DwgM1gcFqIRZjfsRwp-LmI6EcwXRA3WBX-uMBzs/s1600/IMG_7812+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS_Ttax8XvkHQPAUmRsa6ScSlIcxcUg3L7E1JUhyphenhyphenllGihTsql3VHMxT8xvb5cvlGvmSsDCQB3x1jWCvrmTKm30kTvEDfGYsc-JWUD1DwgM1gcFqIRZjfsRwp-LmI6EcwXRA3WBX-uMBzs/s200/IMG_7812+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" width="150" /></a></td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbRZ9ao74P9brPuKS6dxt4KVlo9mzAX7uEOGq6PNHZeUJMDPP3ZdRhfnXO1FJkbGdJ2-HKPCLJe9N_zPVMTGWs58vBSHHJb9wyC-8HZaNKIjwN9u1QNOE5aaDhAhqs4J_KfigQAiCM7J4/s1600/IMG_7818+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbRZ9ao74P9brPuKS6dxt4KVlo9mzAX7uEOGq6PNHZeUJMDPP3ZdRhfnXO1FJkbGdJ2-HKPCLJe9N_zPVMTGWs58vBSHHJb9wyC-8HZaNKIjwN9u1QNOE5aaDhAhqs4J_KfigQAiCM7J4/s200/IMG_7818+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" width="150" /></a></td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKqIR8Ot7d9WPu_b_QHmN2x-SJ_yfN08AXEotp7pWw34hL3UAlLhc1Sy4mwul0eKPbWk5K0nY8gHC9U9JlwoP8vgcAS6_L00C82iJneJKGgKt4bPdmqavfRMNpDNxLUosbMrNhixReuoM/s1600/IMG_8035+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKqIR8Ot7d9WPu_b_QHmN2x-SJ_yfN08AXEotp7pWw34hL3UAlLhc1Sy4mwul0eKPbWk5K0nY8gHC9U9JlwoP8vgcAS6_L00C82iJneJKGgKt4bPdmqavfRMNpDNxLUosbMrNhixReuoM/s200/IMG_8035+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" width="150" /></a></td>
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<tr><td colspan="3"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQWL9kVHzmQHauqY-W-C4zvc8f_cGPMUdlnd7rRG0-hO3qK2pPsqj_KhJBZQDxxyZbz4aIYtTy5DNK1MLmJjJ87WUxz_kxVo9QJNp1PuPxgayaFAO3zEL4-lHz-iF45tR3dfwL73vzAv4/s1600/IMG_8025+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQWL9kVHzmQHauqY-W-C4zvc8f_cGPMUdlnd7rRG0-hO3qK2pPsqj_KhJBZQDxxyZbz4aIYtTy5DNK1MLmJjJ87WUxz_kxVo9QJNp1PuPxgayaFAO3zEL4-lHz-iF45tR3dfwL73vzAv4/s400/IMG_8025+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-34213796510708274642012-11-25T19:17:00.002-05:002012-11-25T19:17:48.137-05:00Creative pursuits welcomed the holiday season at Think Long Island FirstYesterday, holidays officially started at Think Long Island First with the Small Business Saturday events.<br />
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Modest but enthusiastic group of guests and artists gathered around our table to decorate majolica ornaments under the guidance of potter <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2011/05/sue-adler-and-her-horse-hair-pottery.html">Sue Adler</a>, tie impressive bows and gift wrap in eco-friendly fashion as introduced by Kristi Halpern, Jolanta Zamecka, and Ewa Rumprecht respectively, and benefit from the expert knowledge of Feng Shui presented by <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/09/sharon-lamonica-jewelry-infused-with.html">Sharon LaMonica</a>.<br />
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Award winning Long Island limericks were read by one of the judges, poet <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/10/limerick-workshop-with-joan-digby.html">Joan Digby</a>. Evening ended with holiday poetry reading and music cum historical commentary by fiddler <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2010/07/eric-marten-fiddler.html">Eric Marten</a>, and his limber jack and beating straws playing wife Trudy.<br />
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Painter <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/08/yvonne-dagger-painting-narratives-with.html">Yvonne Dagger</a> and wood carver <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2011/02/wood-carving-by-don-dailey.html">Don Dailey</a> provided live demonstrations throughout the day. <br />
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We want to thank All Artists who made the day so special and All Guests who graced us with their company.<br />
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Happy Holidays!<br />
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-20010051645202470332012-11-25T00:00:00.000-05:002012-12-02T12:40:45.797-05:00Holiday poems by Edmund Miller, Long Island Poem for SundayWe had a great pleasure to hear Edmund Miller read the following poems at the Music and Poetry afternoon at Think Long Island First this Saturday. Edmund started with the <i>Going Home for Christmas</i> and continued to haiku poems. The one about chestnuts, New Year's, and an old man was particularly well received, Edmund was asked to read it again. <br />
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<b>GOING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS</b><br />
<i>Edmund Miller</i><br />
<br />
Chewing gum like Zeno's Paradox<br />
a classical marine<br />
passes through Penn Station<br />
with a dufflebag<br />
with roses<br />
with a teddy bear tucked under his arm.<br />
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<b>CHRISTMASTIDE HAIKU</b><br />
<i>Edmund Miller</i><br />
<br />
The wind is nippy,<br />
But the poinsettias sing–<br />
Then it's warm inside.<br />
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In the afternoon<br />
Overlooking Christmas shoppers,<br />
Just half the moon.<br />
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Overcast in pink.<br />
The clouds lower upon us<br />
To bring virgin snow.<br />
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Cold wind through the trees<br />
Then across the clear black sky<br />
Comes the Christmas star.<br />
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The gift wrap of snow<br />
melts, washing slowly away<br />
with the holiday.<br />
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Rat-a-tats of rain,<br />
clearing the dawn sky, invite<br />
bright light for New Year.<br />
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Here in Central Park<br />
Roasting the New Year’s chestnuts<br />
Still the same old man.<br />
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The fragile trees<br />
break . . . icicles<br />
in the breeze.<br />
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Winter morning<br />
Ice in the milkbottle<br />
Still the stars<br />
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The cold freezing rain<br />
weaves trails of tiny paw prints<br />
in yesterday’s snow.<br />
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Nutmeg in eggnog<br />
Birthdays the room with New Year’s.<br />
Outside . . . icicles.<br />
<br />
Stormy dark above<br />
pink underneath at sunset<br />
chiaroscuro clouds.<br />
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Published with author's permission. Included in <i>Stocking Stuffers / seasonal and holiday poems</i> by <a href="http://www.pp-pub.com/" target="_blank">Prehensile Pencil Publications</a>. For purchase at Think Long Island First. <br />
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Edmund Miller, Senior Professor in the English Department at LIU–Post,
is a widely published scholar and creative writer. In addition
to books about seventeenth-century British literature including three
about the poet George Herbert, he has published a collection of stories
called <i>Night Times</i> and many volumes of poetry, including the major
poetic work <i>The Go-Go Boy Sonnets: Men of the New York Club
Scene</i>(2005). Using the traditional sonnet sequence to explore the
world of the male dancers, this unique work combines lightness of tone
with a seriousness of purpose by including biographical notes, a glossary,
and seven indexes as well as translations of individual poems into nearly
two dozen languages. Recently, Miller has been writing plays,
including <i>The Greeks Have a Word</i> (which revives the form of the Greek satyr play), <i>Royal Favorite</i> (a Jacobean tragicomedy in blank verse), <i>The Last Conquests of Beau Fersen </i> (a Shavan political comedy), and <i>The Colonel’s Lady</i> (a Restoration mystery) besides short plays. He has had several staged readings.<br />
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Previous Long Island Poem for Sunday - <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/11/sandy-poems.html">Sandy Poems, Long Island Poem for Sunday</a><br />
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-51083772403425306482012-11-23T22:53:00.001-05:002012-11-23T22:53:46.058-05:00Welcome the Holidays at Think Long Island First<table class="tr-caption-container"><tbody>
<tr><td><img border="0" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuWoz0RoQRAqZCiJ0HMGqnWxPQSNTns9_HoHJt3FQ0__xr-DxU47pqnipcThgCdR-RCSdHC6dc0aUEB8IK8gV5lLQA3-EpBvOXY-I9ll3EsUdE8TBCYTidxgvExynUJMqA8WerlbKI7x4/s400/Sue_Adler_ornament.jpg" width="400" />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption">Holiday hand painted majolica ornament by Sue Adler. Photo by Sue Adler.</td></tr>
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We hope you will help us kick off the holiday season with a series of free, fun events we have organized for <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/10/small-business-saturday-at-your-small.html">Small Business Saturday</a>, on November 24th, which, as you know, is dedicated to small local stores, like ours. We don't want you to just shop, we want you to spend a creative day with us.<br />
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You will paint your own holiday ornaments, learn to decorate with ribbons, find a perfect stone or crystal for your mood level. You will learn to wrap holiday gifts with minimal environmental impact. You will get a chance to read your poetry and have it published, listen to authentic fiddle music and limber jack, observe live painting and wood carving demonstrations.<br />
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You will find a full program of events <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/10/small-business-saturday-at-your-small.html">here</a>.<br />
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-25522911192488302562012-11-20T15:50:00.000-05:002012-11-21T07:18:05.896-05:00Winners of the Long Island Limericks Competition are announced<table class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin: 0pt 1em 0pt 0pt;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="LIU CWPost logo" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdpa8MBiYkkSuU_R-e8jShtUykaaQtE4igeheGGSRd_ksDAlqOM0etV7JNi3BCogIO0qxwSeoUWdjT1UPnWSK9z3xkKUiVOQ6XRhoG6bd57ffDhUWMwVRNYcRQ3pXDT8FBDfqAu_NhxOg/s1600/LIU_Post_logo.jpg" style="border: 0;" width="140" /></td></tr>
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<table class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 0pt 1em;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Think Long Island First logo" border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PD-kT9yufHs/TJwQGSoW4vI/AAAAAAAAAPM/yy4Y9LGURLQ/s200/LOGO_jpg.jpg" style="border: 0;" width="200" /></td></tr>
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<b>WINNERS OF LONG ISLAND LIMERICK COMPETITION ARE ANNOUNCED</b>
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<a href="http://www.liu.edu/CWPost/Academics/Schools/CLAS/Resources/Poetry-Center.aspx" target="_blank"><b>Poetry Center of LIU Post</b></a> and <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/"><b>Think Long Island First</b></a> are pleased to announce winners of the <b>Long Island Limerick Competition 2012</b>.<br />
<br />
Limericks had to include a name of <b>Long Island town, village, or site</b> and many entries played the local references - (in)famous person, geography, or local patois - very effectively.<br />
<br />
Limericks were judged for their <b>creativity, metrics, and language</b> by three distinguished Long Island poets and teachers: <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/08/lazy-rhythm-rumination-august-morning.html"><b>Joan Digby</b></a> of LIU Post, <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/06/quintessential-moment-with-my-father.html"><b>Barbara Novack</b></a> of Molloy College, and <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/09/tapping-signals-on-line-long-island.html"><b>Diane Simone Lutz</b></a> of Queensborough Community College.<br />
<br />
The winners are:<br />
<br />
<b>FIRST PRIZE — $25 gift certificate to Think Long Island First<br />K. Naomi Hann of Amityville</b><br />
<br />
There once was an Amity-villain<br />
Who went on a rampage of killin'<br />
Great fame came and went<br />
Now the ghosts are all spent<br />
And the villain's in prison still chillin'<br />
<br />
<b>SECOND PRIZE — $15 gift certificate to Think Long Island First<br />Marilyn Goldsmith of Syosset</b><br />
<br />
A Park Ranger from Sagamore Hill<br />
Said my job never ceases to thrill<br />
Except when the ghost<br />
Of the resident host<br />
Cries "Charge!" then I feel a cold chill<br />
<br />
<b>THIRD PRIZE — $10 gift certificate to Think Long Island First<br />Eileen Hession of Long Beach</b><br />
<br />
Oceanside’s name, I must say,<br />
Is geographically in disarray,<br />
You know that it oughta<br />
Be next to some water<br />
But the ocean’s 5 miles away.<br />
<br />
<b>HONORABLE MENTION<br />Pat Butler of Tyrone, GA (formerly of Oyster Bay)</b><br />
<br />
Said a clam to a mussel, “I say!<br />
Do you not want to marry one day?<br />
Let us fetch you a bride<br />
On the very next tide!”—<br />
which took them to Oyster Bay.<br />
<br />
<b>HONORABLE MENTION<br />Pat Butler of Tyrone, GA (formerly of Oyster Bay)</b><br />
<br />
“Mosquito” as most would say<br />
Is “Skeeter” in Oyster Bay,<br />
and the name of a boat<br />
on which we would float,<br />
summer day after day after day.<br />
<br />
Congratulations to Winners!<br />
<br />
<b>Award ceremony</b> takes place on <b>Saturday, November 24th, at 4 pm</b>, at Think Long Island First in Oyster Bay.<br />
<br />
Many thanks to <b>All Authors who submitted limericks to the competition</b>. We hope they had as much fun writing them as we had reading them. <i>The limericks below are listed in the order of submission.</i><br />
<br />
When we moved, I was put to the test<br />
And, truly, this is not said in jest<br />
'Cause for forty-two years<br />
Amid laughter and tears<br />
Mount Sinai is the place I love best<br />
<br />
<i>Sylvia Felsher of Mount Sinai</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
You're moving to Israel, our Bklyn. neighbors<br />
exclaimed<br />
No, Mount Sinai, Long Island, we had to explain<br />
Though we felt some distress<br />
We feel truly blessed<br />
This is OUR holy land, so very aptly named<br />
<br />
<i>Debbie Johnson of Mount Sinai</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
Thinking Lincoln<br />
<br />
There once was a fellow named Abe<br />
And lots of reading he did crave;<br />
He won all the debates,<br />
Became one of the greats<br />
By freeing Massapequan slaves<br />
<br />
<i>Dylan Baldino of Elmont</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A rich girl I knew from Glen Cove<br />
Went shopping one day for a stove<br />
When shown one in green<br />
She made quite a scene<br />
Til they brought her a stove colored mauve<br />
<br />
<i>Marilyn Goldsmith of Syosset</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
An Albertson man and his wife<br />
Had a marriage filled daily with strife<br />
She poisoned his luncheon<br />
He attacked with a truncheon<br />
Now they're both at San Quentin for life<br />
<br />
<i>Marilyn Goldsmith of Syosset</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
There was an old woman from Bayville<br />
By whose singing her neighbors were made ill<br />
It was truly pathetic<br />
Not at all operatic<br />
Sounding less like a song than a sawmill<br />
<br />
<i>Marilyn Goldsmith of Syosset</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
There once was a man from Syosset<br />
Whom women were eager to cosset<br />
But the din of their squawk<br />
Could be heard in Montauk<br />
Now he hides out in far off Nesconset<br />
<br />
<i>Marilyn Goldsmith of Syosset</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
There was a young lady from Merrick<br />
Who had in her garden a derrick<br />
When oil proved elusive<br />
And neighbors abusive<br />
She ran off instead with a cleric<br />
<br />
<i>Marilyn Goldsmith of Syosset</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A Locust Valley potter had a very fine day<br />
Throwing, trimming, and firing her clay<br />
She drove off with a burst<br />
to Think Long Island First<br />
Bearing pots for Ewa and Jolanta to display<br />
<br />
<i>Sue Adler of Locust Valley</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
It is great to live in Farmingdale<br />
Where we bought a home that was on sale<br />
Thought it was real cool<br />
Got a swimming pool<br />
It’s like living in a fairytale<br />
<br />
<i>Paula Camacho of Farmingdale</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A lonely young man in Ronkonkoma<br />
Dreamt of true love while in a coma.<br />
But when he awoke<br />
He wished he had croaked:<br />
He still longed for love in Ronkonkoma.<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
There lived a poor poet in Patchogue<br />
Who composed while he sat in a bog:<br />
His poems were racy,<br />
But sales did prove dicey<br />
For that doubly poor poet in Patchogue.<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
There once was a poet lived in Freeport<br />
Who wrote about sailors and mermaids—that sort—<br />
Till he angered a captain<br />
With a satiric quatrain<br />
And had to find haven in a new port.<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A young woman from Bellport name of Vetch<br />
Had a husband who was surely a wretch,<br />
So she served him an aspic<br />
And laced it with arsenic,<br />
Thus leaving Vetch free for a stretch.<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A shopper from Valley Stream<br />
Awoke one night with a scream<br />
Thought Bloomingdales closed<br />
Knew the problems that posed<br />
But, thank God it was only a dream.<br />
<br />
<i>Terry Marder Kamin of Long Beach</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A lad from New Hyde Park<br />
Was longing to make his mark<br />
Tried writing a book<br />
Critics did take a look<br />
And said, "It's best read in the dark."<br />
<br />
<i>Terry Marder Kamin of Long Beach</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A "prof" from CW Post<br />
At a dinner, was to give a toast<br />
When nothing came out<br />
Not a whisper or shout<br />
It was thought he was a poor host<br />
<br />
<i>Terry Marder Kamin of Long Beach</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A Lattingtown farmer named Eddie<br />
had 400 chickens at the ready,<br />
They danced down Peacock Lane<br />
high on beer and champagne,<br />
dropping golden eggs like confetti<br />
<br />
<i>Joan Harrison from Glen Cove</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A major league prospect in Setauket<br />
Could run fast, throw the ball hard, and sock it<br />
Till he fell for a groupie<br />
And his playing went loopy<br />
And he wound up a stock boy in a market.<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
The lady with the flaming red hair<br />
is a resident of Franklin Square<br />
with makeup galore<br />
you cannot ignore<br />
that women laugh and men stop and stare.<br />
<br />
<i>Maria Manobianco of Farmingdale</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
There was a gent from Glen Cove<br />
Most careful about how he drove<br />
counted to ten at Stop Signs<br />
so he never got fines<br />
As down Main Street he wove<br />
<br />
<i>Terry Marder Kamin of Long Beach</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A cyclist from Franklin Square<br />
Said, "Catch me, if you dare."<br />
Friends sped down the pike<br />
Each one on their bike<br />
And all said the race was fair<br />
<br />
<i>Terry Marder Kamin of Long Beach</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A lady there lived in Bellmore<br />
Decided to open a store<br />
brought in all kinds of creatures<br />
with very rare features<br />
Quite an entrepreneur.<br />
<br />
<i>Terry Marder Kamin of Long Beach</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A daring young poet in Farmingville<br />
Flattered the gals in sonnets, lays, and vill<br />
anelles, until they grew wise<br />
To his philandering ways<br />
And showed him the road out of Farmingville.<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
The surfers in Long Beach are fit<br />
Though I don’t understand it a bit,<br />
The sea’s like a lake<br />
So with no waves to take<br />
It seems all they do is just sit.<br />
<br />
<i>Eileen Hession of Long Beach</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
In Nassau it’s not good to mention<br />
The size of your neighbor’s fat pension,<br />
Dad said, “Be a cop!<br />
Join a strong union shop!”<br />
But I just wasn’t paying attention.<br />
<br />
<i>Eileen Hession of Long Beach</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A lovely young maiden of Speonk<br />
Fell in love with a poet, a hunk:<br />
They flirted and fumbled<br />
And courted and bundled,<br />
But she never laid hands on his junk.<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A lively old widow of Wainscot<br />
Hired a worker to trim her woodlot:<br />
She plied him with cider<br />
Till he lay down beside her<br />
And did what he promised they would not.<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A wealthy old man in Port Washington<br />
Grew up wearing Father’s old hand-me-downs;<br />
Then he won the state Lotto<br />
And rose up from the grotto,<br />
That lucky rich man in Port Washington.<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A man drove a Hummer into Yaphank<br />
And parked it in front of the loan bank;<br />
He made such a withdrawal<br />
That he did garner the awe<br />
Of all patrons in that bank in Yaphank.<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
Bald Hill: Why I Drink<br />
<br />
In my home town of Farmingville,<br />
resides Long Island's highest hill.<br />
Its name is quite a mystery.<br />
There soar: elm, oak, and hickory.<br />
Its name: Bald Hill! Barkeep! Refill!<br />
<br />
<i>Herb Wahlsteen of Farmingville</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
There once was a gal from Glen Cove<br />
She loved the water .. by Jove<br />
So she walked to the beach<br />
The day sweet as a peach<br />
And painted pictures unique as the fauves.<br />
<br />
Time flew by faster than crows<br />
How long she was there? ... Who knows!<br />
It was time to pack up<br />
Gathering paints and a cup<br />
A beautiful day came to a close.<br />
<br />
<i>Alice Rhodes Farber of Huntington</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
To uncle Charlie's in Belle Harbor we'd go<br />
With suitcases and food in tow<br />
Summers there we would spend<br />
With family and friends<br />
While Charlie traveled the world, you know<br />
<br />
Before he went on his way<br />
We kids drove him crazy you might say<br />
Mixing sugar into salt pails<br />
Sliding down banister rails<br />
For the teasing and noise we would pay<br />
<br />
<i>Alice Rhodes Farber of Huntington</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
My house in Huntington may be small<br />
But the wooded landscape is my all<br />
Nature's bountiful, peaceful calm<br />
Is a healing, soothing balm<br />
Be it summer, spring, winter or fall<br />
<br />
<i>Alice Rhodes Farber of Huntington</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
Ann wrote letters to Jim many a time<br />
And thought they'd be for the rest of her life.<br />
But he left Oyster Bay<br />
And preceded to L.A.,<br />
So instead she became the mailman's wife.<br />
<br />
<i>Cathy Liu of Manhasset</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
There was an old man from Baldwin<br />
Who always won each hand of gin.<br />
Friends never accused him<br />
Of cheating to abuse 'em<br />
For he'd never commit such a sin.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Ellen Pickus of Baldwin</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
There was a young klutz from Baldwin<br />
Whose wife was as neat as a pin.<br />
When he made a mess,<br />
He had to confess,<br />
Then sweep it all into the bin.<br />
<br />
<i>Ellen Pickus of Baldwin</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
There was a young boy from Baldwin<br />
Whose Dad taught him to ride a Schwinn.<br />
He loved that old bike<br />
From his Uncle Mike.<br />
He learned to be grateful to kin.<br />
<br />
<i>Ellen Pickus of Baldwin</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
There was a poor gal in Baldwin<br />
Whose triplets made quite a din.<br />
She fed one, then the other<br />
But still had to feed brother.<br />
A mother quite simply can't win.<br />
<br />
<i>Ellen Pickus of Baldwin</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
There was a young girl from Baldwin<br />
Who was so remarkably thin<br />
That when cold winds came<br />
She bundled her frame<br />
From her ankles right up to her chin.<br />
<br />
<i>Ellen Pickus of Baldwin</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A girl named Ann in Garden City<br />
Gossiped secrets, big or tiny.<br />
But the people in public<br />
All began to feel sick<br />
Since she was airing out her dirty laundry.<br />
<br />
<i>Cathy Liu of Manhasset</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A woodcock from Matinecock<br />
Was seeking females 'round the clock<br />
But springtime was finished<br />
The supply was diminished<br />
In Autumn a bird's not a jock<br />
<br />
<i>Diane Meltzer of Oyster Bay</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
While waiting for Hurricane Sandy<br />
I decided to have a small brandy<br />
Our trees might come down<br />
And our gardens all drown<br />
But O.B.'s still historic and dandy<br />
<br />
<i>Diane Meltzer of Oyster Bay</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
Riding the train from Penn Station<br />
I start to feel such great elation<br />
Soon I'll see Oyster Bay<br />
Where ol' T.R. did play<br />
When he served as the head of the nation<br />
<br />
<i>Diane Meltzer of Oyster Bay</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
There was a young cleric lived in Mastic<br />
Who suffered from a chronic facial tic,<br />
So he prayed hard for relief –<br />
“God spare me from this sore grief” –<br />
Till a rictus took the place of that tic.<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
Jim was having his ninth birthday,<br />
So everyone gathered in Oyster Bay.<br />
They had a good time,<br />
But he gulped too much wine,<br />
Soon enough having one over eight.<br />
<br />
<i>Cathy Liu of Manhasset</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
She made the trees weak and flimsy,<br />
Marching from Nassau to Suffolk County.<br />
Buildings crumbled down,<br />
The electricity went out,<br />
because of her - Hurricane Sandy.<br />
<br />
<i>Cathy Liu of Manhasset</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
Long Island has a myriad of different landmarks,<br />
Ranging from Jones Beach to Bethpage State Park.<br />
There's too many to list<br />
In this small limerick,<br />
So one should go visit them all for a lark.<br />
<br />
<i>Cathy Liu of Manhasset</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A boatman from Oyster Bay<br />
had plenty and nothing to say.<br />
So he built a boat<br />
And set it afloat<br />
And with it he sailed away.<br />
<br />
<i>Pat Butler of Tyrone, GA (formerly of Oyster Bay)</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
In Speonk one day a merchant<br />
sold me potions exceedingly fragrant,<br />
to camp at Napeague<br />
where mosquitoes feed,<br />
except on those with repellant.<br />
<br />
<i>Pat Butler of Tyrone, GA (formerly of Oyster Bay)</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A one-legged seagull of Hempstead<br />
for meals had been sorely tested,<br />
and moved inland<br />
to escape wind and sand—<br />
a pegleg in dumpsters instead.<br />
<br />
<i>Pat Butler of Tyrone, GA (formerly of Oyster Bay)</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
There once was a momma named Meg<br />
who bore thirteen kids in Cove Neck.<br />
She slipped on the dock<br />
which caused quite a shock<br />
to the twins wrapped around her leg.<br />
<br />
<i>Pat Butler of Tyrone, GA (formerly of Oyster Bay)</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
There once was a wag of Quoque,<br />
whose tongue was the scourge of her blog—<br />
nor was she discrete<br />
with Facebook and tweet—<br />
a virtual pettifog.<br />
<br />
<i>Pat Butler of Tyrone, GA (formerly of Oyster Bay)</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
I once had a cousin in Bayville,<br />
who could be annoyingly playful.<br />
She’d chase my poor brother<br />
one yard to another,<br />
until my brother went naval.<br />
<br />
<i>Pat Butler of Tyrone, GA (formerly of Oyster Bay)</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A cagey old accountant in Woodmere<br />
Would, for a price, cook your books without fear;<br />
But the IRS caught him<br />
And on trial they put him,<br />
Whence the judge sent him to jail for a year.<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A professor of Drama at Oakdale<br />
Gave a part to a dazzling young female:<br />
But her décolletage<br />
Took his mind off the stage<br />
And they rode him from Oakdale on a rail.<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A thin farmer in Center Moriches<br />
Eschewed a belt to hold up his britches<br />
But when they fell down<br />
He put on a frown<br />
And lambasted those sons of a britches<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A dashing young man lived in Wantagh,<br />
Who copied Clyde Barrow, the outlaw,<br />
So he dressed up real swank<br />
And tried robbing a bank<br />
But garnered no cash, just a guffaw.<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
There once was a Superstorm Sandy<br />
That ravaged our shoreline so dandy,<br />
Such when snow followed suit<br />
Even those resolute<br />
Were heard saying so Long Islandy.<br />
<br />
<i>Clinton Weaver of Stony Brook</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A Priscilla who lived in Sag Harbor<br />
Grew clematis to climb up her arbor,<br />
But its redolent odor<br />
Made her asthmatic suitor<br />
Sail off in a ship bound for Labrador.<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
An old hobo who lived in Nesconset<br />
Was there housed in an old Army Quonset,<br />
Which he papered with pin-ups<br />
And he daily did push-ups,<br />
That naughty, fit hobo in Nesconset.<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A grizzled old fisherman in Bayville<br />
Tried cooking his catch on an open grill,<br />
But the haddock turned black<br />
And caused a reflux attack<br />
So he tossed his seared catch in the landfill.<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A hustler named Eric in Babylon<br />
Made a bet he could sink a hole-in-one:<br />
When his signature ball<br />
Landed close to the hole,<br />
Radio magnets completed the con.<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A misogynist in Amagansett<br />
Excluded himself from the fairer set<br />
Till a gorgeous young temptress<br />
Slipped out of her summer dress<br />
And danced on his lawn until the sun set.<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
A wily old celibate of Speonk<br />
Led a life benevolent as a monk.<br />
When a lusty young neighbor<br />
Suggested lewd behavior,<br />
He moved to a rectory in Armonk.<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
The artist Jackson Pollock in The Springs<br />
Garnered the prizes and fame that art brings,<br />
But his demons still haunted,<br />
Making life seem unwanted,<br />
So he crashed his car and put on his wings.<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
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#####</div>
<br />
A lyric tenor from Bohemia<br />
Drank himself into septicemia<br />
He lost his lead at the Met<br />
And was banished from the set<br />
And heard his rival sing his aria.<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
An Islander fan based in Uniondale,<br />
Let out a shout and then started to wail:<br />
“Don’t trade the Colisseum<br />
“In for Barclays of Brooklyn<br />
“And leave all us fans the card ‘Go to Jail.’”<br />
<br />
<i>George Held of Sag Harbor</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
I come from the hamlet of Glen Head.<br />
A place that we used to call Dead Head.<br />
Now theres traffic and stores,<br />
so I close all my doors<br />
and sleep with a pillow on my head.<br />
<br />
<i>Barbara Karyo of Glen Head</i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
#####</div>
<br />
Visiting the hamlet of Oyster Bay<br />
You can shop, dine or play<br />
A walk in the park<br />
Just before dark<br />
Will make it a perfect day!<br />
<br />
<i>Barbara Pollock of Oyster Bay</i><br />
<br />
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-9560825774406568462012-11-20T12:00:00.000-05:002012-11-21T06:55:23.246-05:00Sandy Poems, Long Island Poem for SundayStorm Sandy, damaging and disruptive as it was, inspired poets to write about their experiences during or after the storm. We have already published poem <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/11/sandy-we-stare-dully-at-destruction.html">'Sandy'</a> by Barbara Novack and <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/11/the-wake-of-flood-long-island-poem-for.html">'The Wake Of The Flood'</a> by Peter V. Dugan. We have more poems to bring to you:
<br />
<b><br />In Sandy's Wake</b><br />
<i>Patti Tana</i><br />
<br />
Strong winds thicken the air<br />
with the fury of leaves ––<br />
skeletal branches become spears<br />
<br />
we ride out the storm together in the dark<br />
the dog between us quaking<br />
<br />
morning reveals a hundred-foot tulip tree<br />
fallen across the Japanese garden<br />
sparing the red bridge and our home<br />
<br />
you take the guitar in your arms<br />
& make the wood sing "Amazing Grace."<br />
<br />
<i>'In Sandy's Wake'</i> by Patti Tana of Locust Valley.<br />
Published with author's permission.<br />
<br />
#####<br />
<br />
<b>Community</b><br />
<i>Karen Jakubowski</i><br />
<br />
Flicker of candlelight<br />
my only heat, but<br />
not my only warmth.<br />
<br />
Why does it take<br />
natural disaster to bring love?<br />
<br />
Long Island is somber.<br />
We have been warned by Sandy.<br />
Humbled by a hurricane.<br />
<br />
Men in yellow trucks<br />
swarm like bees.<br />
Flitter to each yard,<br />
each devastation.<br />
They come with gloved bulk, and<br />
We watch our lives being carted away.<br />
<br />
I pass military vehicles<br />
in my neighborhood.<br />
It has become a community.<br />
<br />
We are stoic and proud.<br />
Stand in streets sharing losses.<br />
Few tears are shed.<br />
We are lost souls<br />
trying to salvage what is left<br />
our homes, our memories, our lives.<br />
<br />
It is so much more<br />
Than replacing a favorite<br />
sweater or waterlogged book,<br />
more than a landscape destroyed.<br />
We are base.<br />
Our basic needs<br />
now the root of thought.<br />
No heat, no power,<br />
for some no shelter or food<br />
<br />
We huddle together.<br />
We pray.<br />
We wait.<br />
Aid please come<br />
soon.<br />
<br />
<i>'Community'</i> by Karen Jakubowski of Massapequa.<br />
Published with author's permission.<br />
<br />
#####<br />
<br />
<b>Untitled</b><br />
<i>Marc Rosen</i><br />
<br />
A woman comes into the FEMA site<br />
Speaks with the staffers,<br />
Then comes into the room I'm in, to the left<br />
<br />
A screening room, with comfy seats, the local news on TV,<br />
And most importantly, a giant pile of clothes,<br />
All over the stage up at the front!<br />
<br />
We exchange words, and she asks:<br />
“What's all this clothing for?”<br />
<br />
A Red Cross volunteer asks if she needs anything<br />
In these times, with a nor'easter approaching,<br />
And the woman herself underdressed for the temperatures,<br />
Warm clothing for her and her daughter is clearly called for<br />
<br />
The young mother hesitates, stubborn pride telling her to balk.<br />
She's fine! Save the clothing for someone who really needs it!<br />
Her protests fall on the deaf ears of her new-found personal shoppers<br />
<br />
Red Cross and FEMA ask about what she'd like,<br />
Tell her how great she'll look in this coat,<br />
Help her fill a giant storage bag<br />
With the yield of her free shopping spree<br />
<br />
Tears of joy stream down her eyes<br />
After enduring silence and indifference from agencies, her daughter's school, doctors,<br />
She finally laughs; She finally smiles<br />
<br />
Clothes damaged in the rains, replaced with new<br />
Needs neglected for lack of shelter and warmth, met<br />
For this family, it won't be as cold a winter as it seemed<br />
<br />
<i>'Untitled'</i> by Marc Rosen of Glen Cove.<br />
Published with author's permission.<br />
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Previous Long Island Poem for Sunday - <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/11/the-wake-of-flood-long-island-poem-for.html">The Wake Of The Flood, Long Island Poem for Sunday</a><br />
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-66192720649118279872012-11-18T00:00:00.000-05:002012-11-18T00:00:01.113-05:00The Wake Of The Flood, Long Island Poem for Sunday<br />
<b>The Wake Of The Flood</b><br />
<i>Peter V. Dugan</i> <br />
<br />
Boats from marinas miles away<br />
washed across highways, carried<br />
down Reynolds Channel, swept up<br />
Mill River and Swift Creek<br />
beached on fairways and bunkers<br />
of Bay Park Golf Course.<br />
<br />
Further up river at East Rockaway High School,<br />
the newly renovated auditorium<br />
lies in ruins, all seats submerged<br />
except those in the balcony.<br />
The gymnasium floor, its<br />
wood warped, resembles ocean waves,<br />
complete with fish and crabs.<br />
<br />
Cars and trucks are immobile,<br />
askew in parking lots and on lawns.<br />
Sink holes erode streets;<br />
branches and uprooted trees block roads,<br />
crush cars and lean on homes.<br />
Television, telephone, internet cable<br />
and power lines torn down,<br />
communication and information cut off<br />
or extremely limited.<br />
<br />
Up river and up the road<br />
a woman finds her undamaged hot tub,<br />
still filled with water, standing alone<br />
in the center of Lister Ball Field.<br />
<br />
At night total darkness envelopes<br />
the neighborhood, save for the flash lights<br />
and lanterns inside occupied houses.<br />
The smell of low tide, sewerage<br />
and burnt gas and oil permeates the air.<br />
The sound of autumn crickets drowned out<br />
by the drone of generators.<br />
<br />
The next day, piles of carpet, furniture,<br />
and other remnants and wreckage<br />
form mounds in driveways and on front lawns.<br />
Someone plants the American Flag atop one.<br />
Curbside I find a child's index card<br />
from school, labeled #10 and it reads:<br />
<br />
"Fearing death for himself and the rest of the men,<br />
they decide to build boats and float them down<br />
the Mississippi in hope of finding a Spanish settlement."<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>The Wake Of The Flood</i> by Peter V. Dugan.<br />
Published with author's permission.<br />
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Previous Long Island Poem for Sunday - <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/11/sandy-we-stare-dully-at-destruction.html">Sandy ... we stare dully at destruction, Long Island Poem for Sunday</a><br />
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-61532767770734131612012-11-14T21:30:00.000-05:002012-11-14T21:37:41.166-05:00Sandy ... we stare dully at destruction, Long Island Poem for SundayWe want to thank <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/06/quintessential-moment-with-my-father.html">Barbara Novack</a>, poet and Writer-in-Residence at Molloy College in Rockville Center, for sending us this poem. <br />
<br />
<b>Sandy</b><br />
<i>Barbara Novack</i><br />
<br />
Benign old trees in front of houses<br />
shading the way along the street<br />
loom darkly in the storm<br />
wind-whipped and creaking<br />
branches lashing, leaves flying<br />
crack crash BOOM!<br />
The neighbor's tree across our driveway<br />
limb branch leaves pressing upon our car<br />
Then crack crash BOOM!<br />
Our tree uprooted<br />
to pound in upon our house<br />
top to bottom<br />
and in one gasping death heave<br />
flail five feet of limb through our attic window.<br />
<br />
In the aftermath, that lighted day,<br />
we stare dully at destruction<br />
both cracked trees, their<br />
burgeoning springs and summers<br />
an ironic lie:<br />
City tree trimmers each year<br />
rising in their buckets<br />
to whittle away dried twigs<br />
while no one thought to tap the trunks<br />
and listen for the echo.<br />
<br />
'Sandy' by Barbara Novack.<br />
Published with author's permission.<br />
<br />
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Previous Long Island Poem for Sunday - <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/11/westhampton-cemetery-founded-1795-long.html">Westhampton Cemetery founded 1795, Long Island Poem for Sunday</a><br />
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-53603321112933905082012-11-12T23:37:00.000-05:002012-11-12T23:37:57.946-05:00Preserving history is importantNow more than ever it is apparent how important it is to preserve what we know and see. Chunks of our beautiful South Shore disappeared in front of our own eyes a few days ago.<br />
<br />
It was equally important and much more technically difficult in the past. We are deeply indebted to photographers and record keepers who immortalized places and scenes of the past. <br />
<br />
Arcadia Publishing, South Carolina based company, specializes in historical books of local interests. Books are created by local authors, like Joan Harrison, Amy Driscoll, John Hammond, or Paul Mateyunas, who, having burrowed through various family archives, libraries, documents, and printed materials, bring to us a sliver of the world of old.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicy-Uwt_OFNIZpV3o_zsOkIyUkA9XIt8U9ZRAJ-sGnNSFKrIp4O80cmK7mXRZEnlWgnTXqfyQXfwAsrqQpjfeM8lWqD1SZBe6wTa4ZUrAgLsspTsap6t6CBsg0wzjAvAMoAFY0thT6mYs/s1600/book_chest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicy-Uwt_OFNIZpV3o_zsOkIyUkA9XIt8U9ZRAJ-sGnNSFKrIp4O80cmK7mXRZEnlWgnTXqfyQXfwAsrqQpjfeM8lWqD1SZBe6wTa4ZUrAgLsspTsap6t6CBsg0wzjAvAMoAFY0thT6mYs/s400/book_chest.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Below please find some of the titles we carry in the store. <br />
<br />
<table style="width: 420px;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuzSgCn1HLV9y94Rb1-VkcQu_lD4frCZhi0faKsBYJR2vN47_RAVpLYI7_Kt7tDP4gyt9ZirCuBsIbCN9lbbTrIzMFHEfXSHCnbdH0Y4Wc3v4L62o8OSGjXrm8v61wJeBFa81QHLBRF_E/s1600/Locust_Valley.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuzSgCn1HLV9y94Rb1-VkcQu_lD4frCZhi0faKsBYJR2vN47_RAVpLYI7_Kt7tDP4gyt9ZirCuBsIbCN9lbbTrIzMFHEfXSHCnbdH0Y4Wc3v4L62o8OSGjXrm8v61wJeBFa81QHLBRF_E/s200/Locust_Valley.jpg" width="200" /></a>
</td><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN3N44FPHVRYePPG2eRZWVgBl2wlWpSbClGilwW1M835xQmH8WN2Dw4TPFU09ztBmlHeA3mjuXOZ855fA8eUk0_wE8gyeL02DTP4fD7dSzf6nV_-rWMu5jYInLuRnXR2EZy9Oquij0he8/s1600/Bayville.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN3N44FPHVRYePPG2eRZWVgBl2wlWpSbClGilwW1M835xQmH8WN2Dw4TPFU09ztBmlHeA3mjuXOZ855fA8eUk0_wE8gyeL02DTP4fD7dSzf6nV_-rWMu5jYInLuRnXR2EZy9Oquij0he8/s200/Bayville.jpg" width="200" /></a>
</td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">LOCUST VALLEY<br />
Joan Harrison, Amy Dzija Driscoll</td><td class="tr-caption">BAYVILLE<br />
Incorporated Village of Bayville</td></tr>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibnM30oCJ0Go5sYtE-_8Dte5O5S-ka4DiYoFlOUwM3cJ5KNWICbjonE2Z2zqz2DzC8VqShw-mSIckPN8zbbkIXJ3Z3GEmtLZIEPZ_Nsq3oh5ZaGs42D7N_52PT3mmeUhOl-__iVb4kWJ0/s1600/Glen_Cove.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibnM30oCJ0Go5sYtE-_8Dte5O5S-ka4DiYoFlOUwM3cJ5KNWICbjonE2Z2zqz2DzC8VqShw-mSIckPN8zbbkIXJ3Z3GEmtLZIEPZ_Nsq3oh5ZaGs42D7N_52PT3mmeUhOl-__iVb4kWJ0/s200/Glen_Cove.jpg" width="200" /></a>
</td><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieiZqrY_E3vRNyfzTCqBrlZKPL4jWU08eMFbgtrvoBlSK5pUtqp_vMWVfwbjosiChBiC_JkPriaDHWCWL500j5irZbLFWevFgnovJPAoJsKpL5Lzj_xVbCw0YjNMETI_8XsG6UrBF3hac/s1600/Glen_Cove_Revisited.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieiZqrY_E3vRNyfzTCqBrlZKPL4jWU08eMFbgtrvoBlSK5pUtqp_vMWVfwbjosiChBiC_JkPriaDHWCWL500j5irZbLFWevFgnovJPAoJsKpL5Lzj_xVbCw0YjNMETI_8XsG6UrBF3hac/s200/Glen_Cove_Revisited.jpg" width="200" /></a>
</td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">GLEN COVE<br />
Joan Harrison</td><td class="tr-caption">GLEN COVE REVISITED<br />
Joan Harrison</td></tr>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3IRC4Zw3JGie7iQbyoj_AMaAV9mHzHMSlxAzf7f2Nho6tMdH52gQ1GPPT9ZaikzcCLWwr2-49BJ0mITIBGt0n-OSfO4LG5aC-YYOUJFA67IUbP8mBnNvyO6yNQpsy-Nk4bmnRVam7-Rs/s1600/Hicksville.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3IRC4Zw3JGie7iQbyoj_AMaAV9mHzHMSlxAzf7f2Nho6tMdH52gQ1GPPT9ZaikzcCLWwr2-49BJ0mITIBGt0n-OSfO4LG5aC-YYOUJFA67IUbP8mBnNvyO6yNQpsy-Nk4bmnRVam7-Rs/s200/Hicksville.jpg" width="200" /></a>
</td><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioGHtSlD9Z3RZMXQSitqg9jecGwFcTRInOvMThK2-6fihji-L2sa9XBfpJI9N__2kvxGolgWCJgtzv1E8972syAevm3jb2gHobNO6FZWDT9P0oiPYi01-2l_j-VL3j2SXajQf-EGBpbZ0/s1600/Syosset.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioGHtSlD9Z3RZMXQSitqg9jecGwFcTRInOvMThK2-6fihji-L2sa9XBfpJI9N__2kvxGolgWCJgtzv1E8972syAevm3jb2gHobNO6FZWDT9P0oiPYi01-2l_j-VL3j2SXajQf-EGBpbZ0/s200/Syosset.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">HICKSVILLE<br />
Richard E. Evers, Anne Evers</td><td class="tr-caption">SYOSSET<br />
Tom Montalbano</td></tr>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRSWCL66f6O1yBAKK3ClRyyq2fW9U6rwIiEHgNvjgIKmVtu0gB3jbN6IIB9dLd-6XuRQDc-qNs6MtpmTELT0u7qvofMFNvQyigJVJo_i3t34lobTSijZe4m1GRveH1Cy10JC6gwsqCzNc/s1600/Oyster_Bay.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRSWCL66f6O1yBAKK3ClRyyq2fW9U6rwIiEHgNvjgIKmVtu0gB3jbN6IIB9dLd-6XuRQDc-qNs6MtpmTELT0u7qvofMFNvQyigJVJo_i3t34lobTSijZe4m1GRveH1Cy10JC6gwsqCzNc/s200/Oyster_Bay.jpg" width="200" /></a>
</td><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgPWmK6s_a-2qe41rf2TlJ0lkajeN02iUBTm3x_r7ncEfEq5akuufoWslZG_She4CPOTcmPX_2JTTdtRx9zU4r8j9WgZbYbZJk2kyaIlcS80dKC7UqpZiW79sbaUE7kx11ptt9sAUcqHU/s1600/Roslyn.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgPWmK6s_a-2qe41rf2TlJ0lkajeN02iUBTm3x_r7ncEfEq5akuufoWslZG_She4CPOTcmPX_2JTTdtRx9zU4r8j9WgZbYbZJk2kyaIlcS80dKC7UqpZiW79sbaUE7kx11ptt9sAUcqHU/s200/Roslyn.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">OYSTER BAY<br />
John Hammond</td><td class="tr-caption">ROSLYN<br />
Ellen Fletcher Russell, Sargent Russell, Roslyn Landmark Society</td></tr>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiknKBfVJPTXgIMmr6SKBOTgcz9c66zwmhl-mDzS985cvTa8jeKpWIN3w_hKtzouGwQ0DJpJ4nYe8n9bfLwAKF8gotqYaFAk6aYD-6aGQuTljz8mjxeBlVqfOnm06zy7FTE0afcoq8wpuQ/s1600/LIRR.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiknKBfVJPTXgIMmr6SKBOTgcz9c66zwmhl-mDzS985cvTa8jeKpWIN3w_hKtzouGwQ0DJpJ4nYe8n9bfLwAKF8gotqYaFAk6aYD-6aGQuTljz8mjxeBlVqfOnm06zy7FTE0afcoq8wpuQ/s200/LIRR.jpg" width="200" /></a></td><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBmhOCIj8Pv_wZbMo8TKsa-0fCCvv5JYST1V98XfbDPtCCfr1bVel_WcdxRPIJ3Kt1BJLMEJQYPDhrmQ6xO6U50uB8AkpdPu-9Vov6TBwxtuMzKqo12P2Ol82C27IlaW7Of8oXBl4x9Dw/s1600/LIRR_Stations.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBmhOCIj8Pv_wZbMo8TKsa-0fCCvv5JYST1V98XfbDPtCCfr1bVel_WcdxRPIJ3Kt1BJLMEJQYPDhrmQ6xO6U50uB8AkpdPu-9Vov6TBwxtuMzKqo12P2Ol82C27IlaW7Of8oXBl4x9Dw/s200/LIRR_Stations.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">THE LONG ISLAND RAILROAD 1925-1975<br />
David Keller, Steven Lynch</td><td class="tr-caption">LONG ISLAND RAIL ROAD STATIONS<br />
David D. Morrison, Valerie Pakaluk</td></tr>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9nk0bZFtuJOFQBA4j2E88b03PZil4kHWuO86oGjo_rQh0LW2rJekXk4D9akO47uNK3FPGDb42BjQDRA3cz0eb_bRBG6_mj6qSK2QcWD-oZwq7AU9xo3TOnc1U_IJpn2ZphywvrGQa7T4/s1600/Long_Island_Aircraft_Manufacturers.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9nk0bZFtuJOFQBA4j2E88b03PZil4kHWuO86oGjo_rQh0LW2rJekXk4D9akO47uNK3FPGDb42BjQDRA3cz0eb_bRBG6_mj6qSK2QcWD-oZwq7AU9xo3TOnc1U_IJpn2ZphywvrGQa7T4/s200/Long_Island_Aircraft_Manufacturers.jpg" width="200" /></a></td><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ruLIpkE8xVhaXeZbESQswEPf7A5umTBGzkvm491bXDUG2BaD2rQzQUHzFpWCB-ZS5JDbF2QZTY-9YpasVpEtyO_bbcvztaepa7hvA8zUqMt9U4Np5bKZ2i_pWQ-xf6_5Sp7UsJ24E5g/s1600/Building_Moonships.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ruLIpkE8xVhaXeZbESQswEPf7A5umTBGzkvm491bXDUG2BaD2rQzQUHzFpWCB-ZS5JDbF2QZTY-9YpasVpEtyO_bbcvztaepa7hvA8zUqMt9U4Np5bKZ2i_pWQ-xf6_5Sp7UsJ24E5g/s200/Building_Moonships.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">LONG ISLAND AIRCRAFT MANUFACTURERS<br />
Joshua Stoff</td><td class="tr-caption">BUILDING MOONSHIPS: THE GRUMMAN LUNAR MODULE<br />
Joshua Stoff</td></tr>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr-_0otEmfMcCGPkkEj-0sVTF5E9AWoUOVsouGQahalFYsRkmmER0WU9X-SlaD4XvWtmOhpZwP68VEgbdIuH9n4-OqnOq5ux5_TCCCzUK_cr3HoMlDR1zE7csHBIuH-ZIP9yGFZqCMTVA/s1600/Long_Islands_Military_History.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr-_0otEmfMcCGPkkEj-0sVTF5E9AWoUOVsouGQahalFYsRkmmER0WU9X-SlaD4XvWtmOhpZwP68VEgbdIuH9n4-OqnOq5ux5_TCCCzUK_cr3HoMlDR1zE7csHBIuH-ZIP9yGFZqCMTVA/s200/Long_Islands_Military_History.jpg" width="200" /></a></td><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisduixHpzDA2F8Wz96vXefi8IB0AIiTqF9xbetaJrjfAMk7uyT8J8C6BIALAgN4_tUionOyNz7fqJI9C4X5cl3yDSU8v8ysahfxVLpwZgPe1sARzMxLpeFc6MTb3o4qMPArkQjUid5uzg/s1600/New_York_State_National_Guard.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisduixHpzDA2F8Wz96vXefi8IB0AIiTqF9xbetaJrjfAMk7uyT8J8C6BIALAgN4_tUionOyNz7fqJI9C4X5cl3yDSU8v8ysahfxVLpwZgPe1sARzMxLpeFc6MTb3o4qMPArkQjUid5uzg/s200/New_York_State_National_Guard.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">LONG ISLAND'S MILITARY HISTORY<br />
Glen Williford, Leo Polaski</td><td class="tr-caption">NEW YORK STATE NATIONAL GUARD<br />
Anthony Gero, Roger Sturcke</td></tr>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOC8hqnGnzGYqvJbq4DONuYOHnP-jsCIXDTpfbraXIe1aE30l7DIENPGVmEDbKZadYlI-CC_wG3VOEufZC9FxM88h658EQvzYmEqShZ3yKoisxLHWlsBVoXHgH6Pl7bznw5_XLhCEzdqY/s1600/Long_Islands_Gold_Coast.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOC8hqnGnzGYqvJbq4DONuYOHnP-jsCIXDTpfbraXIe1aE30l7DIENPGVmEDbKZadYlI-CC_wG3VOEufZC9FxM88h658EQvzYmEqShZ3yKoisxLHWlsBVoXHgH6Pl7bznw5_XLhCEzdqY/s200/Long_Islands_Gold_Coast.jpg" width="200" /></a></td><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiecJecIX3dxC8lhhw78pl_D9rE20M7_nD_-McWSPupYWeN5P7YhULCXNw75lxhLVupOrlIv9YZ9JG7VqoHxY9uaJJ3h19WU6RfLL4BzQYzDJGIXosHMY1rZ7nvto6ZnY5q2fUo6nfARyE/s1600/Oheka_Castle.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiecJecIX3dxC8lhhw78pl_D9rE20M7_nD_-McWSPupYWeN5P7YhULCXNw75lxhLVupOrlIv9YZ9JG7VqoHxY9uaJJ3h19WU6RfLL4BzQYzDJGIXosHMY1rZ7nvto6ZnY5q2fUo6nfARyE/s200/Oheka_Castle.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">LONG ISLAND'S GOLD COAST<br />
Paul J. Mateyunas</td><td class="tr-caption">OHEKA CASTLE<br />
Joan Cergol, Ellen Schaffer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1491443155380786887.post-43309756833136154682012-11-11T00:00:00.000-05:002012-11-11T00:00:03.636-05:00Westhampton Cemetery founded 1795, Long Island Poem for Sunday<b>Westhampton Cemetery<br />founded 1795</b><br />
for Jim and Tanya<i> </i><br />
<i>Philip Appleman</i><br />
<br />
No place for elegies, in these stern<br />
stones, bleached<br />
by the misty light that haloes gulls<br />
and weathers the gray shingles<br />
of the Hamptons—no elegies, but grace:<br />
Blessed are the dead <br />
which die in the Lord: my flesh<br />
will rest in hope.<br />
No place for elegies in this austere<br />
devotion to joy, the faith<br />
of the departed:<br />
They do not die nor lose<br />
their mortal sympathy,<br />
nor change to us, although<br />
they change.<br />
No elegies for Mehitable, wife<br />
of Enoch Jagger, died<br />
1799 in the twenty-fifth<br />
year of her age;<br />
for Warren Goodall, drowned at Fire Island,<br />
1832;<br />
for Jennie McCue, died 1871,<br />
aged three years, nine days—no<br />
elegies, but grace:<br />
Precious in the sight of the Lord<br />
is the death of His Saints: we sorrow not<br />
as those which have no hope.<br />
But for the backs that wearied out<br />
these scars in the pale earth,<br />
and for sailors at the aching capstans,<br />
for fishermen scanning<br />
the ashy sky—elegies,<br />
yes, for all<br />
of these—for bonneted girls<br />
stooping till sundown in the itch<br />
of potatao fields, new widows walking their roofs<br />
for the overdue whalers,<br />
maids in the faded Hamptons<br />
staring at hope chests—elegies,<br />
chiseled in mossy stone:<br />
From sorrow, toil and pain<br />
and sin we shall be free.<br />
This misty light is an elegy<br />
for the living:<br />
bleaching our blood to water,<br />
scaling our bone to chalk,<br />
fading every morning song<br />
to the minor of farewell.<br />
<br />
'Westhampton Cemetery' by Philip Appleman from the 1986 'Long Island Poets' collection by The Permanent Press in Sag Harbor. Reprinted with with publisher's permission.<br />
'Long Island Poets' can be <a href="http://www.thepermanentpress.com/p-107-long-island-poets.aspx" target="_blank">purchased</a> from The Permanent Press.<br />
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Previous Long Island Poem for Sunday - <a href="http://www.thinklongislandfirst.com/2012/11/a-flowering-twig-long-island-poem-for.html">A Flowering Twig, Long Island Poem for Sunday</a><br />
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Ewa Rumprechthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00277365055163381933noreply@blogger.com0