[MR] Reminder: Atlantian poetry meetup this evening

[Cindy Watkins]

Hello Atlantia! October, the spookiest month, is upon us! Join me this
evening from 6pm-7pm for our weekly poetry meetup to share poems (yours, or
ones you love) about ghosts, specters, and haints. Or trot out anything
else you are working on, we’d love to hear it!
Meet ID: meet.google.com/chu-kmca-ycc
<https://meet.google.com/chu-kmca-ycc?fbclid=IwAR1e3NHBU6o-mPr4Xs_TCHdqu9z9qTSmxNWkhfAHx0Wu-zYdEtRkBqN36Zs>
Prompt from last week (for discussion this week): Ghost poems!
Prompt of the Week (for sharing next week): In honor of the spooky season,
the prompt for this week is to write a poem about or featuring Prompt of
the Week (for sharing next week): In honor of the spooky season, the prompt
for this week is to write a poem about or featuring monsters (human or
nonhuman). For inspiration, consider this excerpt from Theocritus’s Idyll
11, where Polyphemus (also known as Cyclops) speaks of his love for the sea
nymph Galetea. Full poem here:
https://www.poetrynook.com/.../translation-theocritus...
<https://www.poetrynook.com/poem/translation-theocritus-cyclops-idyll-11?fbclid=IwAR3Gaq08ZLpFKeV0oZSq6Ygz9KW7SOYICAYGQ0R-fCML9GNJm7p3yrp4a4E>
“But oh! I know what makes you fly and fear,
Because upon my gloomy Brow the Hair,
Stretches its shaggy Breadth from Ear to Ear;
And one red Eye-ball in my Forehead glows,
And o'er my Lips broad swells my op'ning Nose.
But being thus, a thousand Sheep I feed,
And when I thirst, their choicest Milk's my Meed,
All Summer long my Stores of Cheese I boast,
Nor less in Autumn's Heat and Winter's Frost.
With Musick none like me the Reeds can fill,
When on the rough Verge of some shadowy Hill
I sing thy Charms, and my unpity'd Woe,
Nor heed the Hours that pass, or Storms that blow.
For thee eleven pregnant Hinds I keep,
And round my Cave four gentle Bearlings creep.
Come then, all these my Love shall have and more,
Come then, and leave the Sea to lash the Shore.
With me much better shalt thou pass the Night,
See here the Laurel and the Cypress straight,
The gloomy Ivy and the fruitful Vine.
Around my Cave with mingled Branches twine.
See? where yon Stream from woody Ætna fell,
And now runs level trickling thro' my Cell.
Who wou'd not these to briny Waves prefer?
What tho' I'm Brawny-limb'd and rough with Hair,
For thee these Limbs, this Flesh, this Heart I'd tear,
For thee my very Soul I would destroy,
Nay lose, still more, my one dear Eye with Joy.”
transl. John Whaley
Theocritus was a 3rd century BC Greek poet from Sicily, orginal poem in
dactylic hexameter.