Xerploo and Zanyplex were relaxing in a secluded greenery bower. They were of the opinion that the gardens on planet P-56 were much more lush and the breezes sweeter but here they were, currently assigned as celestial guardians to Earth. Given the relatively immature character of this planet, their work was cut out for them and they dare not rest for long.
Their mission was to maintain the existence of this orb, which daily seemed under threat from secular and religious discord. Our guardians believed…
Eva excitedly tore into the long awaited package that held the most innovative, must have, technologically advanced travel brochures. They were very expensive but considering the cost of the wedding it was a small price to pay and was definitely worth it.
In less than six months she would be married to her childhood sweetheart Leland, and all the details of the wedding had been carefully planned for months and arrangements completed except for the honeymoon. This was a matter of considerable concern, as they had very different ideas on where to spend their precious two weeks.
Most travel brochures and videos were old-fashioned, limited to sight and sound and lacked the ability to…
Not everyone dresses up to read poetry aloud, but we have to say that we admire the touch of elegance it adds.
Last week we let Nick Graves and Gianna Russo share both their poetry and their writing process with you. This week we have two more poets to share: Victoria Dym and Joyce Carpenter. We’d tell you more here, but we’d just be cribbing from their own self introductions. Click the button to get right to the good stuff!
Reading a well-crafted poem to yourself–silently or aloud–can be a powerful experience. Hearing a poet read his or her own work can be even more moving. They know exactly which words to stress and precisely how long the pauses last. And, if you’re fortunate and they’re in a good mood, they might share with you what the process of creating a poem feels like for them.
As it happens, we have two poets who will do exactly that today: Nick Graves and Gianna Russo.
For National Poetry Month, Tampa made a call to the city—send us your Tampa poems! The overwhelming response included more than 60 submissions celebrating pirates, the Lightning, Bucs and Rays, the old brick streets, the sights and smells of Ybor and the natural beauty of Tampa Bay. Among the winners were two OLLI poets, Cath Mason and Evelyn Romano, whose winning odes to Tampa are featured in today’s edition of OLLI Connects.
Jack and Jill went up the hill – but not to fetch a pail of water. Oh no! They had another plan in mind. You see – there was a big hedge just beyond the crest of the hill. They had discovered it, unseen from the well, on their last trip up the hill. But Jack and Jill had found more than a hidden hedge; behind the hedge was a perfect place for discovering each other. As they giggled and teased, searching for just the “right spot,” Jack suddenly stopped and looked around.
“Do you hear that?” he asked Jill. Jill stopped, listened, and said, “Yes, it sounds like music, and it’s getting louder.”
“Oh, no!” said Jack. “It’s the Pied Piper. I hope he’s not leading any rats up here!”
Jack ran towards the sound of the music and spied the Pied Piper on the side of the hill. Sure enough, there were about (more…)
Once upon a time, long long ago, peaceful Sweden was not a single, unified country but a ragged patchwork of bickering fiefdoms ruled by barons or “Jarls”. One of these was my great(X) grandfather, Ragnar, son of Sten. His “fief” was a rather small farm carved out of the oak forest. It had sheep, goats and a few hardy cattle. There were fields for flax and winter wheat. And a lumber mill that served a region as broad as a man on a good horse could cover in a day.
Ragnar’s farm had been in family for generations, as was the case with most of his neighbors. But times were changing. Bjorn, son of Einar, had amassed (more…)
The butterfly counts not months but moments, And has time enough.
Beulah the butterfly contemplated this quote from Rabindranath Tagore as she set about her business. This wisdom filled her with much joy as she soared off on her journey northward. Not even Botticelli‘s palette could reproduce her lustrous peacock blue as she sparkled iridescently in the sunlit morning.
Flapping her magnificent wings, she felt a slight wafting in the wind, as it passed over her elegant body, creating an infinitesimal change in atmospheric pressure. This slight perturbation was enough to ….But, wait, we will find out soon enough….
Meanwhile, many miles away, Hannah looked for a conference seat. At this summer meeting of the International Chaos Theory in Kansas City, chaos itself often reigned. The assembled scientists and mathematicians (more…)