Poetry

Henri Cole describes his own poetry as astringent. His words are stark and piercing—he writes that his forceful style helps him to “persevere each day at my writing table, where I must confront myself, overcome any fear of what I might find there.”

The sky was gray and bluish bleak that February day:
All chocolate hearts and greeting cards and freshly-trimmed bouquets.
The air was filled with promises of roses and of wine—
Except for those unlucky folks who had no Valentine.

‘Twas two weeks before Christmas, and the soon-to-be grads,
Spent long nights in Butler, all hopped-up on Adds,

The Kraft Center roared with laughter for three hours Thursday night as students tried to prove their poetic worth—or lack thereof—at the 22nd Annual Joyce Kilmer Memorial Poetry Festival.