Tag Archives: poetry book reviews

Contemporary Poetry Section at Ryerss Continues to Grow

IMG_0364The contemporary poetry section at Ryerss Museum and Library has doubled in size over the last few months. Books in this section are donated by The Fox Chase Review after completing book reviews and by poets/writers reading at The Fox Chase Reading Series. Books submitted for review at FCR that are not reviewed are also donated to the CPS at Ryerss. Staff reviewers who do not live in the area retain copies of books they receive.

Our book review policy is at this link: https://foxchasereview.wordpress.com/2012/08/22/2472/

You can read book reviews at FCR at this link: https://foxchasereview.wordpress.com/category/book-reviews/

40 New Poetry Reviews at Galatea Resurrects


New Reviews : http://galatearesurrection22.blogspot.com/ The 22nd edition published by Eileen Tabios

April Reviews @ The Boston Small Press and Poetry Scene

boston poetry


Ryerss Collection of Contemporary Poetry Continues to Grow


We are pleased at the progress of the contemporary poetry section started at Ryerss Museum and Library in partnership with The Fox Chase Reading Series. The shelf currently contains 28 volumes donated by visiting poets and poetry books reviewed or submitted for review to The Fox Chase Review. Our goal is to double the size collection by the end of the year.

We look forward to this continued partnership with Ryerss Museum and Library and their expanding collection of contemporary poetry.

The book review policy of FCR: https://foxchasereview.wordpress.com/2012/08/22/2472/

Langston Hughes/Robert Frost

Charles Loudon* – The Fox Chase Review 

April is National Poetry Month in the United States and I have selected some of my favorite poets to share for this special month. These reviews might be called mini-reviews, short introduction and a sampling from the book. There are always those who announce the impending death of poetry as an elitist art form that cannot survive tough economic times, I do not concur. Poets during these times forged in the working class rise to the occasion and bring the soul back to poetry. It is during these times that poetry moves from the cocoon of the universities back to the streets for poets to reflect the emotions of the people and give hope and truth to those who seek it out. 

Selected Poems of Langston Hughes, Vintage Classics, 297 pages.

I am never quite sure who influenced who more, Langston Hughes or the early Jazz and Blues artists of the former century. Hughes wrote with a lyrical intensity that remains unmatched today. His blues poems, love poems and polemical poems lift from the page as you read through this selected poetry collection. 

From Young Gal’s Blues

I’m gonna walk to the graveyard/ ‘Hind ma friend Miss Cora Lee. Gonna walk to the graveyard/ ‘Hind ma dear friend Miss Cora Lee/ Cause when I’m dead some/Body’ll have to walk behind me.

I’m goin’ to the po’ house/ To see ma old Aunt Clew. Goin’ to the po’ house/To see ma old Aunt Clew. When I’m old an’ ugly/ I’ll want to see somebody, too.

From A Black Pierrot 

I am a black Pierrot: She did not love me, So I crept away into the night/And the night was black, too.

I am a black Pierrot: She did not love me, So I wept until the dawn/ Dripped blood Over the eastern hills/ And my heart was bleeding, too.

I am a black Pierrot: She did not love me, So with my once gay-colored soul/Shrunken like a balloon without air, I went forth in the morning/ To seek a new brown love.

 Early Poems by Robert Frost, Penguin Classics, 274 pages

 Frost did not receive recognition until traveling to Europe, embraced by Pound, his first work was published. The Farmer/Poet from New Hampshire became Poet Laureate. A subtle poet, Frost brings the reader into his life and thoughts using a wide range of lyrical, sonnet and narrative forms.   

From The Mountain 

The mountain held the town as in a shadow/ I saw so much before I slept there once: I noticed that I missed stars in the west, Where black body cut into the sky. Near me it seemed: I felt it like a wall/ Behind which I was sheltered from a wind. And yet between the town and it I found/ When I walked forth at dawn to see new Things/ Were fields, a river, and beyond, more fields.

The river at the time was fallen away/ And made a widespread brawl on cobble-stones; But the signs showed what it had done in spring; Good grass-land gullied out, and in the grass/ Ridges of sand, and driftwood stripped of bark.

I crossed the river and swung round the mountain. And there I met a man who moved so slow/ With white-faced oxen in a heavy cart, It seemed no harm to stop him altogether.

From Into My Own

One of  my wishes is that those dark trees/ So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze/ Were not, as ‘twere, the merest mask of gloom/ But stretched away unto the edge of doom.

I should not be withheld but that some day/ Into their vastness I should steal away/ Fearless of ever finding open land/ Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.

*Charles Loudon lives on Cottman Avenue in Philadelphia, he is not sure if he lives in Fox Chase or Burholme depending on who he speaks with. He is frequent visitor to the Ryerss Library