sheilamdugan

SHEILA M. DUGAN      from H i G H   W A T E R M A R K   S A L O [O] N  volume 2 number 4

I’ve loved poetry my entire life, I think, beginning with rhymes, because that’s all children knew of poetry. Carl Sandberg was perhaps the first non-rhyming poet I became familiar with, and I began listening to the sounds poetry makes and the pictures those sounds convey.

If I could bring ten poets with me to a desert island they would be Robert Frost, Marianne Moore, Emily Dickinson, Thich Nhat Hanh, Mary Oliver, Li-Young Lee, William Blake, Walt Whitman, Lucille Clifton and William Butler Yeats.

For Barbara Press Who Wanted To Know How You Know It’s Poetry If It Doesn’t Rhyme

Poetry is
the unusual in the usual
the nugget in the cliche
the dot on the i
the cross on the T
the picture worth a thousand words
the tree you can’t see
for the forest
the black sheep
the little red hen
the falling sky
the peach pit
the grain of mustard seed
the twenty-fourth psalm
the third line of the Rubaiyat
the forty-eighth page of
On The Road
the nth degree
the bottom line
the last laugh
the best of the best
the constellation you can name
the me in me
the you in you
the love in love
the still in
be still and know that I am
the quiet between the words
the so-o-o-o-o as you inhale
the hm-m-m-m as you exhale
the eye of the storm
the storm
the beat of your heart
the whispering lips
the whisp of a kiss
the calm
the rush
the calm
the rush

Sheila M. Dugan Mother of five, grandmother of five, defense attorney, I live with my cats and books in a big yellow house on the Delaware. I eat meat, drink red wine, and sleep under flannel sheets and electric blanket where I crouch and write from 5:30 to 7:30 a.m. while the woodstove heats. I prefer summer to winter, autumn to spring. Ten books I’d take to a desert island are: The Lives of a Cell; Three by Annie Dillard; Bird by Bird; Peace Pilgrim; Living Buddha, Living Christ; Webster’s Dictionary; Sourcebook of Women’s Poetry; The Little Prince; Phenomenon of Man; Cosmos.

SHEILA M. DUGAN from H i G H W A T E R M A R K S A L O [O] N volume 2 number 4
I’ve loved poetry my entire life, I think, beginning with rhymes, because that’s all children knew of poetry. Carl Sandberg was perhaps the first non-rhyming poet I became familiar with, and I began listening to the sounds poetry makes and the pictures those sounds convey. If I could bring ten poets with me to a desert island they would be Robert Frost, Marianne Moore, Emily Dickinson, Thich Nhat Hanh, Mary Oliver, Li-Young Lee, William Blake, Walt Whitman, Lucille Clifton and William Butler Yeats.
For Barbara Press Who Wanted To Know How You Know It’s Poetry If It Doesn’t Rhyme

	Poetry is the unusual in the usual the nugget in the cliche the dot on the i the cross on the T the picture worth a thousand words the tree you can’t see for the forest the black sheep the little red hen the falling sky the peach pit the grain of mustard seed the twenty-fourth psalm the third line of the Rubaiyat the forty-eighth page of On The Road the nth degree the bottom line the last laugh the best of the best the constellation you can name the me in me the you in you the love in love the still in be still and know that I am the quiet between the words the so-o-o-o-o as you inhale the hm-m-m-m as you exhale the eye of the storm the storm the beat of your heart the whispering lips the whisp of a kiss the calm the rush the calm the rush
	Sheila M. Dugan Mother of five, grandmother of five, defense attorney, I live with my cats and books in a big yellow house on the Delaware. I eat meat, drink red wine, and sleep under flannel sheets and electric blanket where I crouch and write from 5:30 to 7:30 a.m. while the woodstove heats. I prefer summer to winter, autumn to spring. Ten books I’d take to a desert island are: The Lives of a Cell; Three by Annie Dillard; Bird by Bird; Peace Pilgrim; Living Buddha, Living Christ; Webster’s Dictionary; Sourcebook of Women’s Poetry; The Little Prince; Phenomenon of Man; Cosmos.