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. Arts & Artists

New Hampshire Poet Showcase
From NH Poet Laureate, Pat Fargnoli

At my request, The NH Arts Council is providing me with a link to the poet laureate page on their website in order that I may showcase poems by a number of New Hampshire Poets. The poets will be by my invitation only, but I plan to include both the famous and the less famous ....those who are seriously working at poetry craft from many areas of the state. A different poet and poem will be presented every 2 weeks.

Featured Poet: Ardelle Osborne, Swanzey

ardelle osborneArdelle Osborne was born in Concord New Hampshire the daughter of a Congregational minister. She attended public schools in New England and the Rhode Island School of Design.  She graduated from the Boston Museum School. She raised a son during these years and then traveled to Europe and Greece on a scholarship.  In later years, Ardelle traveled several times to Asia. She's studied with Pat Fargnoli, William Doreski and Sam Albert.  Her publications include: The Connecticut Review, Passager, Diner, Concrete Wolf and the anthology, Public Places. She was a finalist in the 2008 Comstock Review contest and her winning poem will be published there.


Of her featured poem, Ardelle writes:

It is strange to be on a Greek Island surrounded by a sea of fishing boats and not be able to find fish to eat.  Actually it's downright frustrating, and why there was a  problem I never did find out.  My Greek poems are full of fish and water, but on this island and at this time of year (just before the tourists arrived) any decent food was difficult to find . There was one restaurant which served only beef, and this in itself was an oddity because as good as the meat might be to begin with it always ended up ruined!  The island was beautiful however, and out of season we felt pretty exclusive.


Love Story for the Little Yellow Fishes

We want to eat fishes
but there are no fish.
Each clumsy boat
resting buoyant as balloons
on the Ionian Sea gives
us the same answer - no fish.
Eventually in an ocean-side
taverna he buys
seven fresh spiky yellow
fish and takes them in
a plastic bag to the stony beach.
For half an hour he squats
where water touches his feet
and, with a delicate knife, scores
each, feeling the depth
to the backbone. With his huge
thumbs, he rolls
back the flesh, probing
the pink billows.  He eviscerates
them, throwing the entrails
to the gulls swirling like
kites above.  Concentrated,
he never looks at me.  He
tenderly washes their gutted
bodies in a green plastic
pan with seawater, places
them back in the plastic
bag, then looks up and smiles.
Later, on the little stove
in the room, he simmers
them, graced with oil
and lemon, bony but delicious.

 

 

Click here for a list of previous Poet Showcases

Last updated: October 14, 2008

 
 
 
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