poet laureate

The Oklahoma native is revered for her writings on "tradition and loss, reckoning and myth-making," as well as for her music, the Library of Congress said.
You can help "Half-Mexican" poet Juan Felipe Herrera write about migrants, peace and language.
And, finally, please talk about family and relationships. I have a theory that every book we read has something to do with
Juan Felipe Herrera shares some beautiful reminders about this multifaceted emotion.
For Juan Felipe Herrera, the first Chicano to be named U.S. poet laureate, migration is both his biography and a major component of his poetic style. The child of migrant farm workers, Herrera grew up following harvests from San Diego to San Francisco, and his writing has likewise displayed a remarkable range.
1. Work with Your Hands: There is something satisfying about handiwork, because you can see the physical results of your labor. Whether you're baking bread, knitting a scarf, or weeding your garden, making something with your hands can set your mind on fire.
The daughter of a free white man and an enslaved black woman, she sued for her freedom. Through petition, her case was sent to the Virginia General Assembly and she was freed in 1656.
My friend Mark Strand died last week at the age of 80. I say "my friend" not because we were close. We were not. But because he was once a good friend to me at a moment when I needed one. I can say without exaggeration that he changed my life.
In this first of two programs celebrating her extraordinary life and legacy, I revisit an episode from his 1982 series Creativity in which Angelou and I returned to the small town of Stamps, Arkansas, where she spent much of her childhood.
Hers was a life born of nothingness, of vicious sexual assault, of shattered boulevards and smashed glass windows. But from the muck of that life, Maya Angelou became a voice for girls, for women, and even for boys like me.
Dwight Garner of The New York Times similarly pointed out the unsettling feeling of "Seven American Deaths and Disasters
This month, Pulitzer Prize winning poet Natasha Trethewey officially began her stint as Poet Laureate of the United States. One of Trethewey's poems that I return to often is "Housekeeping."
This summer, I found myself re-reading Alice Walker's The Color Purple, a book that is both wonderful and awful. After finishing, I asked myself, "Why do some books by great authors (or parts of books by great authors) work so well, while others fail?"
One of the nation's youngest Poet Laureates and the first Southerner to receive that award since 1986, Natasha Trethewey's work marries "the ghost of history" with emotive poetry.
As the product of a union that was still a crime in Mississippi when her parents married, and of a nation still bearing the scars of its broken union, Natasha Tretheway is the voice of a history that has been largely unwritten.
Facing an unprecedented wave of censorship, Tucson has unabashedly staked out its claim as ground zero in the defense of poetry and literary arts.
One of the most innovative poets and authors over the last 25 years, Tafolla's genre-bending bilingual verse from San Antonio's West Side barrio has given voice to several cherished volumes of poetry and stories.
Most of us who create art dwell in the gap between what we know and don't know. All I need to know, I've learned by being a poet: keep my broken heart open, don't harden over what's too hard to feel, create what's ready, and persevere. It's my practice.