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  • Poetry International

    Nick Laird (UK), featured on PI in December of 2012. Image © Mark Pringle, Faber and Faber.

  • Swati Khurana

    Poetry is a way of being alone without feeling alone. It allows you to experience another mind, I suppose. And it does that more fully than ...

  • PoemHunter.com

    A Gap in Definitions

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Percy Bysshe Shelley: "Poetry is a mirror which makes beautiful that which is distorted.”

Imaginary Food Diaries Of Famous Authors--these are hilarious. Loved the Hemingway one, but all are just so funny.

26 Contemporary Books That Should Be Taught In High School I Am Malala! Yes!!

Anne Sexton. Her re-working of Grimm's fairy tales is brilliant. I recommend it.

20 Brilliant Authors Whose Work Was Initially Rejected | Lord of the Flies by William Golding was rejected 20 times before it was published.

14 Things You Probably Didn't Know About Margaret Atwood - An interview with one to Canada's best known authors - Found via Buzzfeed

The Death Of The Patriarch: Remembering Gabriel García Márquez | Our task, then, is not so much to mourn him, but rather figure out how to best remember him. I wouldn’t presume to have an answer, but I do have a suggestion. We should read, write, love, and fight with an attitude that seeks out the marvelous in everything — with eyes that are willing to see the magic of reality.

"I decided to stop becoming an adult. That day I chose to blur facts, fail at tests, and slouch under a hood." Second Childhood by Fanny Howe (2013 Poetry Foundation) www.poetryfoundat...

John Cage: “There is poetry as soon as we realize that we possess nothing.”

Langston Hughes by Winold Reiss, circa 1925. Pastel on illustration board. Courtesy of the National Portrait Gallery.

"It is both by poetry and through poetry, by music and through music, that the soul dimly descries the splendours beyond the tomb; and when an exquisite poem brings tears to our eyes, those tears are not a proof of overabundant joy: they bear witness rather to an impatient melancholy, a clamant demand by our nerves, our nature, exiled in imperfection, which would fain enter into immediate possession, while still on this earth, of a revealed paradise.”-Baudelaire