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Poet Laureate Page

Meet Old Saybrook's Poet Laureate:
Patricia Horn O’Brien

Pat2.jpgPat is a graduate of Columbia School of Social Work and has
worked and volunteered as a social worker throughout her
adult life. She’s a long time member of the Guilford Poets Guild
and in 2012 co-founded a local poetry group, CT River Poets
which now boasts of 15 accomplished and productive poets. 
She's helped in the establishment of Prison Hospice in three
CT prisons and facilitated poetry workshops at York C.I.  
Pat initiated the ongoing program, Paintings and Poetry, at
Florence Griswold Museum.  Pat and Judy Perry and Jerry Silbert
have produced and performed Getting It Together, the stories
of how painting, poetry and music helped  each of them survive
life-challenging events.

Pat's been published in several periodicals, including
CT River Review, Ct Review, Embers, Pulp Smith, Poet Lore,
Caduceus, Red Fox Review, Freshwater and Connecticut Review
and is the winner of several awards, including from Embers,
Connecticut River Review, The Almeda  Boulton Memorial
Contest and from the Acton Library in Old Saybrook CT where
she resides with her husband, John ... and not too far from
their three sons where they reside with their excellent partners.  Pat's first collection of poetry,
When Less Than Perfect is Enough was published by Antrim Books and is now in its 2nd printing.

Please Scroll down for Poetry Readings and Events!

June 18, 2017           Happy Father's Day!

"my father moved through dooms of love" by E. E.Cummings

About This Poem

“my father moved through dooms of love” was published in The Complete Poems: 1904–1962(Liveright, 1991). E. E. Cummings was born on October 14, 1894, in Cambridge, Massachusetts. His collections of poetry include Tulips and Chimneys(T. Seltzer, 1923) and 50 Poems(Duell, Sloan and Pearce, 1940). He died on September 3, 1962.

my father moved through dooms of love                  
through sames of am through haves of give,
singing each morning out of each night
my father moved through depths of height
this motionless forgetful where
turned at his glance to shining here;
that if (so timid air is firm)
under his eyes would stir and squirm
newly as from unburied which
floats the first who, his april touch
drove sleeping selves to swarm their fates
woke dreamers to their ghostly roots
and should some why completely weep
my father’s fingers brought her sleep:
vainly no smallest voice might cry
for he could feel the mountains grow.
Lifting the valleys of the sea
my father moved through griefs of joy;
praising a forehead called the moon
singing desire into begin
joy was his song and joy so pure
a heart of star by him could steer
and pure so now and now so yes
the wrists of twilight would rejoice
keen as midsummer’s keen beyond
conceiving mind of sun will stand,
so strictly (over utmost him
so hugely) stood my father’s dream
his flesh was flesh his blood was blood:
no hungry man but wished him food;
no cripple wouldn’t creep one mile
uphill to only see him smile.
Scorning the Pomp of must and shall
my father moved through dooms of feel;
his anger was as right as rain
his pity was as green as grain
septembering arms of year extend
less humbly wealth to foe and friend
than he to foolish and to wise 
offered immeasurable is
proudly and (by octobering flame
beckoned) as earth will downward climb,
so naked for immortal work
his shoulders marched against the dark
his sorrow was as true as bread:
no liar looked him in the head;
if every friend became his foe
he’d laugh and build a world with snow.
My father moved through theys of we,
singing each new leaf out of each tree
(and every child was sure that spring
danced when she heard my father sing)
then let men kill which cannot share,
let blood and flesh be mud and mire,
scheming imagine, passion willed,
freedom a drug that’s bought and sold
giving to steal and cruel kind,
a heart to fear, to doubt a mind,
to differ a disease of same,
conform the pinnacle of am
though dull were all we taste as bright,
bitter all utterly things sweet,
maggoty minus and dumb death
all we inherit, all bequeath
and nothing quite so least as truth
—i say though hate were why men breathe—
because my Father lived his soul
love is the whole and more than all
51VVwcYxscL._SX331_BO1204203200_.124918.jpgCopyright © 1940, 1968, 1991 by the Trustees for the E. E. Cummings Trust from 
The Complete Poems: 1904-1962 by E. E. Cummings,
Edited by George J. Firmage.
Reprinted by permission  of Liveright Publishing Corporation.
All rights reserved.

June 12, 2017  Old Saybrook Town Hall:  Poetry Bulletin Board [1st Floor]

OSHS Poems.jpgThanks for reading
this display of poetry
by the OS High School
Creative Writing Class.…
… the happy outcome of a
collaboration between CT River Poets,
the Creative Writing Class and
Florence Griswold Museum.
Thanks to the enthusiasm and hard
work of their teacher, Mr. Vautrain,
his entire class went on a field trip to
the museum for a guided tour of the
exhibit: Mathilda Brown, Idylls
of Farm and Garden.  

The students wrote their poems in response to a chosen work of art, and over the
following weeks, along with several CT River Poets, workshopped their poems and practiced reading out loud in preparation for our museum reading, Poetry and Painting,  on Sunday, May 21st.

The students, reading along with poets from CT River Poets, created an amazing afternoon that was enriched by incidental music provided by clarinetists David Cohen and O.S.H.S. student, Kiwon Paul.

Patricia Horn O'Brien

May 10, 2017

mothers day2.jpgPoems for Moms on Mother's Day

Share selection with the mother in your life. Visit
Mother’s Day roundup for new poems, essays, books, & more.
Another Poem for Mothers” by Erin Belieu
Translation for Mamá” by Richard Blanco
The Blue Dress” by Saeed Jones
Mother o’ Mine” by Rudyard Kipling
Nurse” by Dorianne Laux
Mother” by Lola Ridge
For My Mother” by May Sarton
 by Nicole Sealey
My Mother’s Lips” by C. K. Williams

April 20, 2017
Image result for facebook symbol       Join our Poetry Facebook group!

Welcome to this neophyte group I'm hoping will serve as a cozy spot
to check in, chat about poetry, find out what poetry is happening
in the area. Be in touch. Post a poem. 

April 20, 2017  Visit Narrative Magazine for more poetry!


30 Poems to Stir the Heart

IN CELEBRATION of our Ninth Annual Poetry Contest, we’re spotlighting a favorite poem
each day for thirty days, leading up to the opening of the contest on May 16.

You’ll enjoy these remarkable works by both masters and emerging writers. Click here to read
poems that will surprise, provoke, delight, and inspire.

See the Contest Guidelines. Read the prior winners.


April 4, 2017

Maile.jpg"A recent graduate of O.S.H.S., Maile Chaplar has a terrific collection of poems
at the link below.  Maile was among the Creative Writing poets in Sue Murphy's
class who wrote poems for our Poetry and Painting programs at the
Florence Griswold Museum.

 Check her work out.  You'll be happy you did!"    

"Note Well:  If you open the PDF link,
above then click on the images in the
poster, you will be linked to a poem related
to the image.

Check it out and enjoy the poetic ride!  

Poetry Schedule 2017 Rev 2.jpg

March 30, 2017
Read these poetry postcards from immigrants, refugees and
others touched by migration by Elizabeth Flock
3302017_93427_0.jpgWhen a group of poetry organizations met in 2015 to talk about collaborating around a shared theme — migration — they didn’t know how timely their effort would be. But “Because We Come From Everything: Poetry & Migration,” a project that launched this month with 25 poetry organization in 15 cities, has since resonated in ways the groups didn’t anticipate, with hundreds writing in and tens of thousands reading the poems online.

“I think people naturally come to poetry in times of crisis and confusion,” said Jen Benka, head of the American Academy of Poets, which organized the effort. “But for this project we took the poetry to them"........

For more - Go to Site...

Or Follow:  #WeComeFromEverything eComeFromEverything

March 12, 2017

"The causes for dislocation and migration are devastating.  
In this poem I try to imagine myself as a mother in the
midst of urban warfare ... a scene, sadly, one might
discover in so many locations around the world."  
~  Pat

A Measure of Safety
(In Mosul, for one)
I know the map of this kitchen.
How many paces from its south wall
to its north, how many east to west.

I know the measure of its sugar
and salt.  The measure of oil
I gage by its weight.

I know, from its window, the point
our street vanishes into the rubble
of our neighborhood.  A street that once
had no vanishing point.

I know the breathing of our children
asleep in the next room.  Their
whimpering sleep.  

Awake, my children imagine I know
how to keep them safe.  In dreams,
danger seeps through every measured wall.

March 11, 2017

poets-newsletter-header0.pngBecause We Come from Everything

This month, poetry organizations across the country are collaborating on the initiative Because We Come from Everything: Poetry & Migration. We invite you to join us by sharing these poems about migration, and
                                                                                        helping to spread the word with:                                                                                                                            #WeComeFromEverything.
Peace Path” by Heid E. Erdrich
Migration” by Major Jackson
In Exile” by Emma Lazarus
Immigrant Blues” by Li-Young Lee
Trailing Clouds of Glory” by Vijay Seshadri
Peaches” by Adrienne Su
Mannahatta” by Walt Whitman
Business” by Naomi Shihab Nye

Business  Naomi Shihab Nye, 1952

     “Syrian refugees go about their business in a refugee camp in Mafraq, Jordan…”

Ropes on poles, jeans & shirts flapping in wind.
He sits on a giant bag of rice, head in hands.

Too much or too little, rips & bursts & furrows.
Something seared in a pan.

If you knew a mother, any mother, you would care
for mothers, yes?  No.

What it is to be lonesome for stacked papers
on a desk, under glass globe,

brass vase with standing pencils,
new orders.

How quickly urgencies of doing disappear.
And where is the child from the next apartment,

whose crying kept him awake
these last terrible months? 

Where do you file this unknowing?
Learn More about Poetry & Migration

Take a look at our curated collectionof audio recordings, essays, books, poems, lesson plans, and other resources on migration, presented as part of the Poetry Coalition’s inaugural effort.

And keep an eye out for a special week of poems by contemporary poets related to the theme of migration in Poem-a-Day, starting March 20.

January 17, 2017

One day last summer, while under the breezy and spectacular spell of Founders Landing, I heard the long-forgotten but unmistakable sound of wagon wheels squeaking their way up the road to the park. 

When the red wagon arrived bearing Noah, pulled by Christopher Listorti, his dad, I was sure we had all been transported to a magical kingdom ... one right off Main Street, Old Saybrook!

The magic continued when Noah scrambled onto one of the park's boulders and took his superhero pose.  I knew we should memorialize the moment and with his father's permission, took the picture you see here.

Christopher and I have stayed in touch, have exchanged thoughts and ideas about poetry and music, and, with his permission I am sharing this photo and poem.  Noah and Christopher and I hope you enjoy sharing in the fun.     Pat O'B.

                        When Noah Shows Up       Calvin.png
        From a safe distance, we watch you unfold
        up and out of your Wheeled Steely Red,
        threatening the air, knuckles first. Noah,
        we know the risk. We've heard all about

        the rugged drums you pound down your block.~
        Heard how your grand-eloquent speech wakes
        sleepyheads, street-after-street, those wheels
        creaking the road, your sweet smile, your
        bright eyes no ease to the fear that quakes us.
        Noah, you don't need one rough beast,
        no less two-by-two, to ride with you. We'll
        make way for you, your super-strength enough

        to assure you're safe from us! We are at
        your beck and call. Not that you ever doubted it.
                        Patricia O’Brien, 1/17/17



A poem by Roger Keys, inspired by the painting by Hokusai, reminds us to stay awake
to the world around us … and your world will be full of I Remembers!

The Great Wave off Kanagawa (神奈川沖浪裏 Kanagawa-oki nami ura, "Under the wave off Kanagawa"),is a woodblock print by the Japanese ukiyo-e artist Katsushika Hokusai. It was published between 1830 and 1833.



Alice & Queen.jpg

"There is no use trying, said Alice;
"One can't believe impossible things." 
"I dare say you haven't had much practice, said the Queen. 
"When I was your age, I always did it for half an hour a day. 
Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things
before breakfast."
                                         Lewis Carroll



Kurt Vonnegut  Quotable Quote....


" ...  The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.”  


November 9, 2016

"Please stop by to see the Town Hall bulletin board display posted 11/8 of the poetry and art included in the book Poetry and Art Along the Connecticut River [see additional book information below.]

Thanks for taking a moment.  We think you'll be happy you did!   Pat, O.S.P.L."        1192016_101522_0.png

October 1st, 2016
bookcover0172.jpgThis newly-published book, Poetry and Art along the Connecticut River, unites the talents of local poets and artists in a small, beautiful volume produced for those who love both words and images.

The idea for this collaboration originated with John and Angie Falstrom, owners of the publishing company Perennial Designs in Lyme. ~After several meetings with poet and artist friends, they conceived of a collaborative project that would showcase the works of both.
Fifteen local artists agreed to participate and each contributed an artwork that they felt might inspire poetry.~ Fifteen poets from the Connecticut River Poets were then matched with a piece of art in a random drawing. The artwork became each poet’s muse in the creative process. The results were delightful and surprising, illustrating the idea that the juxtaposition of images and words are often more than the sum of their parts.

The following poets contributed poems: Patricia Barone, Barbara Batt, Jane D’Arista, Margaret Gibson, Marilyn Nelson, Patricia Horn O’Brien, Mary Guitar, Gwen Gunn, Nancy Meneely, Sharon Olson, Lana Orphanides, Lorraine Riess, Kate Rushin, Edwina Trentham and Mary Buell Volk.

Artists represented are Helen Cantrell, Ashby Carlisle, Catherine Christiano, Angie Falstrom1012016_102537_2.jpg, Judy Friday, Laurel B. Friedmann, Sandy Garvin, Gray Jacobik, Ralph Levesque, Jodi Muench, Kim Muller-Thym, Judy Perry, Deborah Quinn-Munson, Hilary Seltzer and Lori Warner.

The book is also available at various local stores including the Florence Griswold Museum Gift Shop in Old Lyme, the Lori Warner Gallery in Chester, H.L. Reynolds Store in Lyme, and Hadlyme Country Market. It can also be ordered through the website Perrenial Designs. For more information, please contact Angie Falstrom,,  Perennial Designs, 860-434-3194 or Mary Guitar, Connecticut River Poets,, 860-326-1351




The CT River Poets are grateful to the O.S. Historical Society for their proposal to join with them in the creation of this publication -

"Soulful Grace:  The Past in Poetry."


Book designed and printed by Essex Printing

Acton Public Library, 60 Old Boston Post Rd, Old Saybrook, CT 06475 PH: (860) 395-3184