Showing results by narrator "Ghizela Rowe" in All Categories

Love is a universal feeling but a few lines of musings from a poet - assembled words perhaps softly spoken - can express a romance or desire that if we don't yet have we'd probably like to. And so poets have burnished their dreams throughout history and across the globe, in every culture past and present. For most of us Indian Love Poetry tends to be the erotic and explicit Kama Sutra and The Perfumed Garden.

This second volume of poetry for Mother's Day further explores that key relationship with our Mother through the verse of many of our greatest poets. The relationship with our Mother is one of the most powerful many of us will ever feel. It rivals those with our children and partners in a way that both permeates and challenges how and on what terms we live our lives. A woman giving birth is not only bringing life into the World, she is doing so, usually, at great pain to herself.

Night. The day has gone. Departed. And the dark embrace, the inky shadows of night descend. For many a time to unwind and slumber. For some a nagging doubt that all is not well. That some primeval and primordial happening may yet go bump in the night. But for our poets the night is a time of wonder and imagination as well as many other emotions and feelings. Among our ranks of gloried talents are Keats, Coleridge, William Morris, DH Lawrence, Whitman, Longfellow and many more besides. Their descriptions capture what they see and feel as perhaps only a poet can.

Robert Southey was born on the 12th of August 1774 in Bristol. A poet of the Romantic school and one of the 'Lake Poets'. Although his fame has been eclipsed by that of his friends William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Southey's verse was highly influential and he wrote movingly against the horrors and injustice of the slave trade. Among his other classics are Inchcape Rock as well as a number of plays including Wat Tyler.

Marguerite Radclyffe-Hall was born on August 12th, 1880 to wealthy parents who separated while she was still an infant. Her parents thereafter paid little attention to her. Hall was educated privately, and then at King’s College London. Later she travelled to Europe, settling in Dresden, Germany. With the death of her paternal grandfather she inherited a large estate and was then able to live as she pleased. In Germany, Hall met Mabel Batten and fell in love despite the 23 year age difference.

Mary Cholmondeley was born in Hodnet near Market Drayton in Shropshire on June 8th 1859, the third of eight children. Her father was appointed rector in 1874 in succession to his father. Much of the first 30 years of her life was taken up with helping her sickly mother run the household and her father with his parish work and mitigating the effects of her asthma. Mary began writing in her teens. She wrote in her journal in 1877, 'What a pleasure and interest it would be to me in life to write books.'

Art. The greatest standard bearer of what the human condition really is? Or emperor’s clothes, cheap gimmicks displayed as all-knowing? When it comes to writing we have our favourite authors. But what of the authors themselves? What are they keen to write of? For our classic authors, from Poe to Lovecraft, from Woolf to Fitzgerald, art in their words is something to be admired. From many angles, many views, their stories, their characters interact with art, and the consequences fall as they may.

At some point in our lives we believe that creak, that low moan, that whisper is something unnatural, beyond our comprehension. And in these stories our instincts are right. We are afraid. And we should be. Perhaps even terrified. In this volume our classic authors take different approaches, but the result is inevitably the same. We are hooked by these unknowable forces, our emotions heightened and rattled by the expectation - or shock - of the next few words.

The human race prides itself on being the most organised of animals. We manage the fate of all other species. All other animals bow to our control or suffer. In diminishing numbers we allow some to live in the wild, but in increasing numbers we domesticate them, and whether they become part of the family, a best friend or a wonderfully decorative accessory, we take their compliance for granted.

We love control. The ability to predict and organise our lives as we want them. As we desire them. It’s quite a shock, then, when phantoms, ghouls and ghosts play their part, too. They don’t play by our rules. Our welfare is not their concern. They will do as they wish. And they have very vivid imaginations - way beyond the dictionary definition: Phantom. Noun. Something apparently seen, heard or sensed but having no physical reality. An image that appears only in the mind; an illusion. A model, especially a transparent one, of the human body or of any of its parts.

Scotland’s official national day is St Andrew's Day, the feast day of Saint Andrew. In the Bible it is Andrew who introduces his brother Peter to Jesus as the Messiah. As well as Scotland he is also the patron saint of the likes of Russia, Greece, the Ukraine, and Barbados. It is thought that the day was first celebrated over a thousand years ago in the reign of Malcolm III (1034-1093).

Adelaide Anne Procter was born on 30th October, 1825 at 25 Bedford Square in the Bloomsbury district of London. Her literary career began whilst still a teenager. Many of her poems were published by the great Charles Dickens in his periodicals Household Words and All the Year Round before being later published in book form.

Letitia Elizabeth Landon was born on 14 August 1802 in Chelsea, London. A precocious child she had her first poem published is 1820 using a single ‘L’ as her marker. The following year her first volume appeared and sold well. She published a further two poems that same year with just the initials ‘L. E. L.' It provided the basis for much intrigue. She became the chief reviewer of the Gazette and published her second collection, The Improvisatrice, in 1824. By 1826, rumours began to circulate that she had had affairs.

With almost a million words at its command, it is not surprising that these Isles have produced some of the most beautiful, moving and descriptive verse through the centuries. In this series we look at individual poets who have shaped and influenced their craft and cement their place in our heritage. In this volume we look at the works of the Victorian Poet Laureate Alfred Austin.

It is human nature to create and compete. Both of these are brought together in sport. Many games began in distant eons and gradually adapted and became codified to those we know today. In this volume we celebrate, through the verse of so many well-known poets, sports of all kinds. Sports for the rich, sports for the poor and all manner in between. As Henry Newbolt would say, ‘Play up, play up, and play the game'.

Aphra Behn was a prolific and well-established poet and playwright but facts about her life remain scant and difficult to confirm. What can safely be said is that Aphra Behn is regarded as a key English playwright and a major figure in Restoration theatre. Her poetry is now far more appreciated and seen as a breakthrough for women of the 17th Century and beyond. Her first play, ‘The Forc’d Marriage’, was staged in 1670, and thereafter many followed, including her later comic works, which were more commercially successful.

“If music be the food of love, play on" was one of Shakespeare’s finest lines. If music is food then poetry is the wine. In this volume of classic love poetry the flavoured capture of words and rhythms makes us think more carefully of words and their value to us. They also surprise us with their structure and meaning, layering in thoughts and emotions that we might otherwise shy away from. Poems are wonderful ways to express what we feel for a very special someone.

This volume of poetry brings together poems throughout history with very special women. The relationship with our Mother is one of the most powerful many of us will ever feel. It rivals those with our children and partners in a way that both permeates and challenges how and on what terms we live our lives. A woman giving birth is not only bringing life into the World, she is doing so, usually, at great pain to herself.

Our greatest fears are of the unknown. Usually we think those fears are in front of us...or behind us. But perhaps the human body itself holds the greatest horror. What happens after death? Do our bodies have a new existence either in whole...or part? Will others seek to claim them and do unspeakable things? We don’t know. But our authors do. And they have the talents and wits to make these diabolical stories vehicles for horror, for terror, for the unimaginable....

The ninth month of the Gregorian calendar strides onto stage with the autumn equinox and the first glimpses of a new season. Nature may adorn the coming days with a blaze of Indian summer, or the early showers and storms of autumn may begin their symphony. Regardless of Nature’s elemental whims the landscape is a riot of colours, hues and swathes, the harvest of crops continues, the orchards heave with bounty.