WE KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE! - Come out! Come out! Wherever you are! Pretty please?!?

Story running the other day about the 43-year-old literary organization International Poetry Forum being on the ropes. What the Forum needs is a benefactor who will ensure that the Forum doesn't have to close its doors -any time soon. Founder and Director of the organization, Samuel Hazo, last week said that it's "possible that somehow we'll get the support to exist in some form." Right now Hazo is looking inside and outside the Pittsburgh area for support but aside from finishing the season at the Carnegie Library Lecture Hall on Tuesday at 8 pm, he has no next move. Hazo had announced in February that the lack of new funding has forced him to drop plans for a 44th season unless something turns up.

May I suggest a kind benefactor step out from the shadows to fund the International Poetry Forum - and become a modern-day hero to the Arts?

The Forum's heyday was in the '80s when Hazo expanded beyond poetry readings into musical, dance and plays, starring the likes of Gregory Peck, James Earl Jones, Princess Grace of Monaco, Vanessa Redgrave, Cleo Laine and Michael York to the Pittsburgh stage, and then brought its program to Washington, D.C., including the stage at Wolf Trap. "The 20th anniversary gala sparkled with Jerzy Kosinski as master of ceremonies and former U.S. Senator Eugene McCarthy" among the performing poets. Hazo also "launched the long-running Poets in the Schools program that reaches high schools in five counties around Pittsburgh."

During all this time, Samuel Hazo was also writing -- "poems, plays and novels, more than 35 books. In his 80th year, he published two books, This Part of the World, his 5th novel, and The Song of the Horse, a collection of poems."

However, for the past 23 years, the International Poetry Forum has contracted, offering fewer and fewer big-ticket draws which resulted in the cancellation of its Washington, D.C. schedule; but Hazo never lost his mission of showcasing the best poets in the face of growing expenses and shrinking cash for arts organizations.

"This year, it went dry."

Samuel Hazo has devoted the last 43 years to the art of poetry; his office is surrounded by photos of the finest poets in America of the past 50 years, more than 500 readings, including Archibald MacLeish in 1966. This is Hazo's legacy, a remarkable and stellar place in American letters that he built in Pittsburgh that he can look back on with pride and satisfaction.

This is my call-out for a kind, benevolent benefactor to fund the International Poetry Forum to keep POETRY - front and center - in the nation's conscience!


Sketch by Matthew Anderson; annotation is the author's handiwork..:)

Poetry for the People - BERKELEY, CA

Daughter of Puerto Rican sculptor-singer Anna de Leon and African American blues musician Taj Mahal, Aya de Leon is a poet, a UC Berkeley African American studies professor, activist and Harvard graduate. de Leon is also coordinator of a campus-to-community partnership called Poetry for the People (P4P). [Not to be confused with Poetmeister 4 Poets! (P4P), mind you..;>] Poetry for the People at UC Berkeley is an arts activism program started by the late Jamaican poet June Jordan (b. 1939, d. 2002), in 1991. For, de Leon, the gist and heart of Poetry for the People is helping people to express their creativity, which to her means to find your own voice, how to craft strong work and stay true to yourself. The partnership brings nationally known poets in from the East Coast to perform on campus and introduce them to the community.

"I believe everybody has passion about creativity in one way or another. But I know that came from her (mother): the thought that I could do it, that it was a real life. This is part of what I tell my students. A lot of people think, "Oh, well creativity is fine, but then you know, you gotta get a real job. You've got to be a doctor, a lawyer, an engineer." And I think, in watching my mom, I understood that art is a real job."

Check out Poetry for the People for their schedule of upcoming events. On her site, de Leon writes that "P4P continued to pursue Martin Luther King Jr.'s vision of a beloved community for all. P4P has an academic focus on the reading, writing and teaching of poetry. The program also bridges the gap between the university and the larger community, working with teens and young adults, schools, community organizations, and activist projects in the greater Bay Area. This Spring, join us at La Pena every Third Thursday!"

Next up is April 16th National Poetry Month showcase: a multi-generational poetry conversation featuring: American Book Award winner, Coptic poet Matthew Shenoda & John Carlos Perea on bass former P4P Director, poet Maiana Minahal, Hip hop artist and activist Ras K'Dee & dj offering (teao-audiopharmacy), DJ Munkee Pants, plus local artists, Poetry for the People poets, and special guests!

B There or B Square!

White House "Bo" gets his own Writing Beau - Harold Goldberg

Everyone seems to want in on the Gravy Train, even award-winning journalist, Harold Goldberg, who will be writing White House Dog Tales: The Very Personal Rhyming Diary of the White House Dog (making contact with his crystal ball, is he!) and the Mystery in the Fountain to honor National Poetry Month.

I would love to present the first installment just to give you a taste of things to come, but no peek-preview here folks; looks like you'll have to buy the bow-wow without a wow-now ;> You can purchase the goods on the White House Dog Tales blog. Yip!

Poetry Writing Contest - KANSAS

Kansas Poet Laureate, Dr. Denise Low, is offering 2 poetry writing contests throughout the month of April in honor of National Poetry Month. Kansas poets can submit one original poem per contest based on a specified theme (see below) determined by Dr. Low. Winning poems will be selected by Dr. Low and posted on her blog. In addition, the poets with winning poems will be gifted with a book of Dr. Low's poetry from a personal collection.

You may email your original poems to Dr. Denise Low at kansaspoetry AT gmail DOT com.

Here are the Themes with their Deadlines:

• Kansas Ghost Story - April 16
  
• Kansas Houses - April 20
• Kansas Historic Myth - April 23
• Kansas Garden - April 27
• Kansas Wildlife - April 30

Source: Kansas Arts Commission

GOLGATHA by Glenn Buttkus

GOLGATHA

I am the Christ,
he whispered,
and they laughed at him;
at his thin unshaven face,
at his long blood-caked hair.

But no one looked at his eyes
the way I did.
He could have told them,
if they would but listen.

He remembered
Antonia,
the cold castle walls
and the cockroaches that chewed his ankles.
The club and the chain,
and the many-tailed whip
that tore hunks of flesh from his body.
Roman guards that had beat him.
Thorns in his hair
tearing at his scalp.
Men who had feared him,
pummeled him with their fear,
Blackening his eyes;
those sad eyes
that could see
infinity.

Herod was fat,
and loved his whores,
and his little boys.

Pilate was lean
and he splashed his hands
in a flowered urn as the people
cheered the thief Barabbas;
placing a straw basket on his head,
and carrying him on their shoulders,
a frozen smile on his lips,
his liberty barren.

It was a dirty amemic yellow dawn
as Jerusalem reeked of refuse.
He put the rugged cross upon his shoulder;
a huge thing
that smelled of creosote and tar and pitch;
fresh cut
brought from the dark forest,
bolted together with iron clasps.

The burden was heavy
and he fell under it.
the cobblestone bit into his raw knees.
the whip kissed his scourged back
as he stood up.

The sky appeared dead.
The narrow streets were open cesspools
in the dim light,
rubbish in rainbarrols,
gutters that rannith over
with filth.
People leaned out windows
and spat,
though some did not.

Come see the parade,
it is free,
like hunger.
and the people came,
an army of shopkeepers, drunkards, farmers, artisans,whores,
pick-pockets, thieves, cutthroats, lepers,
and rabbis,
huddling, steaming, and shuffling,
as dirty children played
tag with the rats.

Another painful stumble at the corner crossroads,
flat onto the hard street,
but this time gentle hands
reached out to him
and a negro named Simon stepped up
to help shoulder the burden,
and although conscripted,
he too
was whipped and beaten
as the procession continued.

His mother was there,
somewhere,
in that sea of whirling souls,
though he had missed her at the trial.

Porta Judiciarn,
a Roman gate,
stone and ornate,
marble and impressive.

Then Calvary at noon,
a sickly place,
stinking of carrion and death;
Golgatha,
the place of skulls.
The crowd jeered and bellered and wept.
Dysmas and Gestas sweated,
watching the crosses being arranged on the ground.

The four corners of the world heaved,
black clouds raced for the hillock,
a pallid ring hid the desert sun;
noon and dark.

Pain hid the rising,
three sharp white sihouettes
against the indigo sky,
yet the iron spikes still hurt
as the flesh split, cracked, and crunched
in his hands and feet.

Jesus of Nazareth,
King of the Jews;
words on a hand-written wooden sign,
nailed lop-sided over his drooping head.

The spikes were thick and cold,
and blood flowed,
slowly trickling down,
spiraling around his body
and the cross.
Little red rivelets of life
in a rubious world;
becoming a steaming puddle
on the bare trodden ground.

I thirst, he cried,
and they sponged his swollen face
with vinegar;
while the black sky brooded,
his crown caught the light on a barb.
Whispered words with his father,
dice that rolled,
winners that did not win.

4:00, Good Friday,
April 7th,
30 A.D.;
a scratch on eternity,
a wound that never heals,
bleeding still,
becoming words that will not clot,
from a Christ,
and from all men suffering,
and not suffering.

My God,
My God,
Why have you forsaken me ?

Glenn Buttkus Easter 1966

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I'm extremely pleased to be able to publish Golgatha by Glenn Buttkus of Feel Free to Read on this Good Friday. His poem is one that affects me in a profound way. I was shaken the first time I read it, and cried. I felt I was personally there while reading, witnessing the Passion of the Christ, or Stations of the Cross, if you will, as it happened back in the day that He walked the Earth, carrying the Cross He died on - for me - for All.

Try Putting Lipstick on a Landfill - enter Staten Island Haiku Contest on Freshkills Landfill-to-Park project

Heh heh. This is a good one, gentle readers. Staten Island Parks Department is running a haiku poetry contest enticing poets to write a traditional haiku form meditation on the natural transformation of Freshkills Landfill into Freshkills Park, the city's most important new Park in 100 years. Go to this site and click on the e-mail link to enter the contest by - Friday, April 24 at 5:00pm. All I can say is - Talk about lipstick on a pig!

Haiku, in short form (pun intended), is written in 17 syllables divided into 3 lines of 5, 7, 5 syllables; in order to qualify as traditional Haiku Japanese verse the haiku must mention some element of nature or one of the seasons. Good luck to all who enter this unusual endeavor! Now... 1...2...3... everyone... grab your lipstick!

And now, just to mention a few of my favorite haiku haunts: an old friend, Paul David Mena, the Haiku Poet; David Rheins Blog, Haiku.com; and Like My Haiku.com.

Gordon College posts poetry as podcasts on iTunes

Massachusetts' Gordon College melds age-old poetry tradition to 21st-century technology by recording a variety of poems as podcasts on iTunes. As many of you know, podcasts are digital recordings available on the Internet and can be downloaded onto iPods or listened to through your computer speakers.

The college chose favorite poems that were recited out loud this spring by students and faculty. Communication arts major, Natalie Ferjulian, a junior, recorded the poems and coordinated getting the poems posted as podcasts on iTunes. A new poem is posted every day during April, National Poetry Month.

A few of the poems representing poetry recorded include Langston Hughes' Harlem, warning of the danger of deferring dreams read by Jo Kadlecek, senior communications writer to John Ciardi's whimsical Why Nobody Pets the Lion at the Zoo, read by Jan Carlberg, wife of college President R. Judson Carlberg.