Welcome! Bienvenido! Witamy! Bienvenue! 歡迎!

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Welcome to MyLibraryCardWoreOut!

I know that a lot of my readers are world-wide. A lot of my visitors are from the United States but I get some lovely visits from France, Australia, Israel and many others too. So where ever you are from, welcome to here and search and see if you can find what you are looking for. Just like a library, I try to keep my shelves up to date, but sometimes I don’t succeed. But I keep trying and usually once a week or at least every two weeks there is a book review but sometimes I do fun book related things. Also with the help of M.O.M (my own mother) we keep this blog running. Scroll down to read my latest posts. Enjoy!

 

It’s National Library Week, So Go Hug Your Librarian!!!

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So busy reading poetry this almost completely slipped by.

It’s National Library Week!! Where would we be without our wonderful libraries and librarians.

Chronicle Books have put together a lovely piece about how great libraries are. Pop on over and check it out.

HERE.

And when you are done, go hug your librarian. Remember, if you enjoy reading they probably played a big part in this!

FunDay Friday ~ Revelation, a Visual Poem by sebastien montaz-rosset, Poem by Charlotte Davies

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This is WONDERFUL!!!!!

Beyond wonderful.

Powerful words + Imagery = something almost indescribable.

The filmmaker Sebastien Montaz-Rosset has taken the words of Charlotte Davies and made magic.

HERE. (Make sure you have the sound on)

To learn more about the Sebastien Montaz-Rosset HERE and HERE.

And to read the words of the poem HERE.

Enjoy!

 

Phenomenal Woman by Maya Angelou

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Maya Angelou celebrated her birthday a few days ago (April 4) and what better way to pay tribute than by reading one of her poems? She is a powerhouse of literary merit and her written and spoken words make you stop, think and consider. Her words are chosen with care and beauty and her writing is powerful. 

Phenomenal Woman ~ Maya Angelou

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can’t see.
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
‘Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Ballad Of The Moon by Federico García Lorca

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Ballad of the Moon

translated by Will Kirkland

The moon came into the forge
in her bustle of flowering nard.
The little boy stares at her, stares.
The boy is staring hard.
In the shaken air
the moon moves her arms,
and shows lubricious and pure,
her breasts of hard tin.
“Moon, moon, moon, run!
If the gypsies come,
they will use your heart
to make white necklaces and rings.”
“Let me dance, my little one.
When the gypsies come,
they’ll find you on the anvil
with your lively eyes closed tight.
“Moon, moon, moon, run!
I can feel their horses come.”
“Let me be, my little one,
don’t step on me, all starched and white!”

Closer comes the horseman,
drumming on the plain.
The boy is in the forge;
his eyes are closed.
Through the olive grove
come the gypsies, dream and bronze,
their heads held high,
their hooded eyes.

Oh, how the night owl calls,
calling, calling from its tree!
The moon is climbing through the sky
with the child by the hand.

They are crying in the forge,
all the gypsies, shouting, crying.
The air is viewing all, views all.
The air is at the viewing.
Federico García Lorca

FunDay Friday ~ Book Spine Poetry

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Poems surround us, and sometimes we do not see.
Sometimes we have to look beyond the rhyming words, the follow on line, words snaking across a page.
Sometimes we need to just look. And see.

 

Book Spines. Poems for the taking.

HERE.

If you have any of your own, you can send them to School Library Journal and they will include them.

How to be famous, without really trying.

 

 

The World by George Herbert

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April 3rd is the birthday of British poet George Herbert. Born in Wales (home to Dylan Thomas and Roald Dahl) in 1593 he was a metaphysical poet who wrote deeply moving poems on religion, life and love.

 

The World

Love built a stately house, where Fortune came,
And spinning fancies, she was heard to say
That her fine cobwebs did support the frame,
Whereas they were supported by the same;
But Wisdom quickly swept them all away.

The Pleasure came, who, liking not the fashion,
Began to make balconies, terraces,
Till she had weakened all by alteration;
But reverend laws, and many a proclomation
Reforméd all at length with menaces.

Then entered Sin, and with that sycamore
Whose leaves first sheltered man from drought and dew,
Working and winding slily evermore,
The inward walls and summers cleft and tore;
But Grace shored these, and cut that as it grew.

Then Sin combined with death in a firm band,
To raze the building to the very floor;
Which they effected,–none could them withstand;
But Love and Grace took Glory by the hand,
And built a braver palace than before.