Poetry Reading June 25

Georgia Center for the Book & Poetry Atlanta present:

POETRY READING / BOOK SIGNING

THE PASSION OF OLDER WOMEN by LOUISE RUNYON

with poets Alex Johns & Laura Carter

Monday, June 25, 7:15 p.m.

Decatur Public Library Auditorium

215 Sycamore Street (downstairs)

Decatur 30030

http://www.georgiacenterforthebook.org

~ Arrive early to find parking ~ not always available at library, but free street parking after 6 ~

If you cannot attend but would like to order a book, please scroll down for how to order.

This book is a manifesto on the wisdom, strength, needs and desires of older women – the rising demographic in our country.  It is also a testament to women of the previous generation, “who have brought us safe this far.” The poems are inspired by working the earth in Decatur, Georgia; a love of the Southern Appalachians; the current political situation; the experience of writing in Italian; and the status of older women in relationship to men.  Included also are two short prose pieces – a life story in fable format and a summary of Runyon’s work as a dancer/choreographer.  The book affirms that older women will not go gently into this goodnight, the last phase of our lives.  Louise Morgan Runyon is a dancer/choreographer, political activist, urban farmer, student of Italian, and former steelworker as well as poet.  ~~ You can also hear Louise read and be interviewed on WRFG 89.3 FM the following Monday, July 2, from 12 noon to 1 p.m.  Please note that Louise is offering Free Readings to Intown Book Clubs -- email her at louiserunyon@aol.com if you're interested.  Scroll down to read a NEW sample poem from the book ~~

To order by credit card or PayPal / Great Gifts!

 

~ or go to http://louiserunyonperformance.com/orderbooks.php ~
 

New Sample Poem

Backpack Bebop

I had a dream the other morning 

that I carried a man in my backpack

the green backpack I always take hiking

and to New York and everywhere

the one with the little red cross

Swiss army knife logo on it  

green grow the rushes oh

I carried the man in my backpack

down a gray concrete sidewalk

on Peachtree Street near Peachtree Center

into a building that had glass walls

and there I let him out

he was no one I knew, really

smallish, but still a grown man

my age, with silver hair

green grow the rushes oh

he might have been a former student of mine

laughing and with a silver beard

blue jeans and vest and gold-rimmed glasses

he folded nicely into my backpack

his arms around his knees

and wasn’t too heavy for me, at all

green grow the rushes

oh