All posts by Eric Robert Nolan

Eric Robert Nolan graduated from Mary Washington College in 1994 with a Bachelor of Science in Psychology. He spent several years a news reporter and editorial writer for the Culpeper Star Exponent in Culpeper, Virginia. His work has also appeared on the front pages of numerous newspapers in Virginia, including The Free Lance – Star and The Daily Progress. Eric entered the field of philanthropy in 1996, as a grant writer for nonprofit healthcare organizations. Eric’s poetry has been featured by Dead Beats Literary Blog, Dagda Publishing, The International War Veterans’ Poetry Archive, and elsewhere. His poetry will also be published by Illumen Magazine in its Spring 2014 issue.

“But should you fail to keep your kingdom …”

But should you fail to keep your kingdom
And, like your father before you, come
Where thought accuses and feeling mocks,
Believe your pain; praise the scorching rocks
For their desiccation of your lust,
Thank the bitter treatment of the tide
For its dissolution of your pride,
That the whirlwind may arrange your will
And the deluge release it to find
The spring in the desert, the fruitful
Island in the sea, where flesh and mind
Are delivered from mistrust.

—  from “Alonso to Ferdinand,” in W. H. Auden’s “The Sea and the Mirror”

W.H.AUDEN

Damn fine product.

I does loves me some Jansport.

Amazon.com has OUTSTANDING customer service.   No, believe it or not, I am actually not being sarcastic here … Amazon.com really does have outstanding customer service.  If you ever have a problem, call them and ask for the very helpful “Mike A.,” and then leave positive feedback on the automated service, because his my homeboy.

One word of caution … if you ever buy a backpack online, be sure to READ its measurements, then make sure your desired cargo will fit.  The vendors employ extremely small-boned men to model for these online listings, so every backpack looks huge.

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“America,” by Claude McKay, 1921

“America,” by Claude McKay

Although she feeds me bread of bitterness,
And sinks into my throat her tiger’s tooth,
Stealing my breath of life, I will confess
I love this cultured hell that tests my youth.
Her vigor flows like tides into my blood,
Giving me strength erect against her hate,
Her bigness sweeps my being like a flood.
Yet, as a rebel fronts a king in state,
I stand within her walls with not a shred
Of terror, malice, not a word of jeer.
Darkly I gaze into the days ahead,
And see her might and granite wonders there,
Beneath the touch of Time’s unerring hand,
Like priceless treasures sinking in the sand.


Mackey

Tonight we sleep peacefully thanks to the ardor of the brave.

If you are reading this now, then you are likely to head to bed soon for the night, safely.

If you are like many today, then you might have said a prayer, or a few words of thanks, for the soldiers, the police, the firemen, and the emergency professionals who have made such safety possible.

You and I will retire to sleep tonight without event.  We will awaken in a free state tomorrow.  These are rarer things than we often realize, in a frequently ugly world, where despots threaten and madmen make red pageantry in our skylines and in our saddest inner moments.  But tonight we sleep peacefully thanks to the ardor of the brave.

Indeed, we WILL never forget.

To all of the especially good men and women whose job it is to keep us safe, often at the highest risk to themselves:

Good luck, Godspeed, and thank you for your service.

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Longwood Alum Jeannie Powers to star in “The Waiting Room” at the Bare Bones Theater.

Hey Longwood High School folks!  Our distinguished alum, Jeannie Powers, will appear this month in Lisa Loomer’s “The Waiting Room” at the Bare Bones Theater in Northport!  See the announcement in today’s Newsday for the details!

Congrats, Jeannie!!

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“Things You Don’t Write About 9/11/2001,” by Stanley Anne Zane Latham

A dear friend authored this deeply personal and quite beautiful poem.  I am honored to be able to feature it here.

“Things You Don’t Write About 9/11/2001”

by Stanley Anne Zane Latham

It was an ordinary train ride
You, me, Leita, and Dan
We didn’t mean to get separated.

We didn’t mean anything
in those days. We were
in college. It seemed

like we were rebels. Our parents
ate cabbage; our parents. Gosh,
we thought, what happened to them?

We simply got on a train. We didn’t
tell them. We were skipping school,
old enough to be our own.

I have to tell them, you loved me.
Dan loved Leita. I loved you.
We all kind of loved.

It was supposed to be
a simple day in New York.
It was supposed to be

A simple day in New York.

You don’t want me to bring
our life after this back
to this. Moment. There

is nothing like an almost.
In the aftermath, when the train
stopped, when no one was

ever the same again; i mean
the conductor said – Do you remember
what the conductor said?

i remember : it was a morning train
i remember : the birds flying at the windows
i remember : You shrouding me across

the platform.

i had you. You had me.
Dan had Leita, Leita had Dan.
We were never the same.

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Photo credit: “F coming into Smith-9th,” by Error46146 at en.wikipedia. Licensed under CC BY 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons.

“The Binch,” by Rob Suggs

“The Binch,” by Rob Suggs

Every U down in Uville liked the U.S. a lot,
But the Binch, who lived Far East of Uville, did not.
The Binch hated U.S! The whole U.S. way!
Now don’t ask me why, for nobody can say,
It could be his turban was screwed on too tight.
Or the sun from the desert had beaten too bright
But I think that the most likely reason of all
May have been that his heart was two sizes too small.

But, Whatever the reason, his heart or his turban,
He stood facing Uville, the part that was urban.
“They’re doing their business,” he snarled from his perch.
“They’re raising their families! They’re going to church!
They’re leading the world, and their empire is thriving,
I MUST keep the S’s and U’s from surviving!”
Tomorrow, he knew, all the U’s and the S’s,
Would put on their pants and their shirts and their dresses,
They’d go to their offices, playgrounds and schools,
And abide by their U and S values and rules.

And then they’d do something he liked least of all,
Every U down in Uville, the tall and the small,
Would stand all united, each U and each S,
And they’d sing Uville’s anthem, “God bless us! God bless!”
All around their Twin Towers of Uville, they’d stand,
and their voices would drown every sound in the land.

“I must stop that singing,” Binch said with a smirk,
And he had an idea–an idea that might work!
The Binch stole some U airplanes in U morning hours,
And crashed them right into the Uville Twin Towers.
“They’ll wake to disaster!” he snickered, so sour,
“And how can they sing when they can’t find a tower?”

The Binch cocked his ear as they woke from their sleeping,
All set to enjoy their U-wailing and weeping,
Instead he heard something that started quite low,
And it built up quite slow, but it started to grow —
And the Binch heard the most unpredictable thing . . .
And he couldn’t believe it–they started to sing!

He stared down at U-ville, not trusting his eyes,
What he saw was a shocking, disgusting surprise!
Every U down in U-ville, the tall and the small,
Was singing! Without any towers at all!

He HADN’T stopped U-Ville from singing! It sung!
For down deep in the hearts of the old and the young,
Those Twin Towers were standing, called Hope and called Pride,
And you can’t smash the towers we hold deep inside.

So we circle the sites where our heroes did fall,
With a hand in each hand of the tall and the small,
And we mourn for our losses while knowing we’ll cope,
For we still have inside that U-Pride and U-Hope.

For America means a bit more than tall towers,
It means more than wealth or political powers,
It’s more than our enemies ever could guess,
So may God bless America! Bless us! God bless!

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“I believe in an America where the separation of church and state is absolute …”

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“Saint Gerolamo,” by Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, Circa 1600

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Photo credit:  “Michelangelo Caravaggio 057” by Caravaggio – The Yorck Project: 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei. DVD-ROM, 2002. ISBN 3936122202. Distributed by DIRECTMEDIA Publishing GmbH. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.

Throwback Thursday: the First Edition Dungeons & Dragons “Monster Manual.”

I was too young to play Dungeons & Dragons when it was in its heyday; by the time I reached high school, its ardent niche popularity had faded.  (I’ve read that tabletop role-playing games owed their decline in the 1980’s to the arrival of videogames.)

I do remember poring over my older brother’s “Monster Manual” without his knowledge, though.  (We shared a room; I wasn’t supposed to be touching his stuff.)

Dragons doubtlessly captured the imaginations of most kids who perused that book.  Older boys would probably have been fascinated by the succubus.  At the age of 9 or 10, I myself was most partial to “green slime,” the teleporting “blink dogs” and the basilisk.

I smiled when the below image of the “Monster Manual” cover began making the rounds among a group of my Facebook friends.  Believe it or not, there are still a few adults who get together to play D&D.

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Succubus_(Dungeons_&_Dragons)

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