Midsummer lies on this town like a plague: locusts now replaced by humidity, the bloodied Nile now an algae-covered rivulet struggling to find its terminus. Our choice is a simple one: to leave or to remain, to render the Spanish moss a memory or to pull it from trees, repeatedly. And this must be what
jump to
states
Florida
Appointed poet laureate of the state of Florida on June 15, 2015, Peter Meinke is the author of over twenty books of poetry. He has received many awards, including a Fulbright Fellowship, two National Endowment for the Arts Fellowships, and three prizes from the Poetry Society of America. He worked at Eckerd College until 1993, when he retired. During his time at the college, he founded and directed its Writing Workshop.
recent & featured listings
type |
name | state |
|---|---|---|
| Literary Organization | Sarasota Poetry Theatre-Soulspeak | Florida |
| Literary Organization | Florida Literary Arts Organization | Florida |
| Literary Organization | South Florida Writers Association | Florida |
| Literary Organization | The Cypress Dome Society | Florida |
| Poetry-Friendly Bookstore | Books & Books Coral Gables | Florida |
| Poetry-Friendly Bookstore | Books & Books Miami Beach | Florida |
| Poetry-Friendly Bookstore | Books & Books Bal Harbour | Florida |
| Poetry-Friendly Bookstore | Books & Books Fort Lauderdale | Florida |
| Poetry-Friendly Bookstore | Inkwood Books | Florida |
| Poetry-Friendly Bookstore | Key West Island Books | Florida |
Florida poet laureate
Peter Meinke
Peter Meinke was named the poet laureate of Florida in 2015. He is the author of Lucky Bones (University of Pittsburgh Press).
poems
poem
2001
poem
1922
Call the roller of big cigars, The muscular one, and bid him whip In kitchen cups concupiscent curds. Let the wenches dawdle in such dress As they are used to wear, and let the boys Bring flowers in last month's newspapers. Let be be finale of seem. The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream. Take from the
poem
2016
Green and blue and white, it is a flag
for Florida stitched by hungry ibises.
It is a paradise of flocks, a cornucopia
of wind and grass and dark, slow waters.
Turtles bask in the last tatters of afternoon,
frogs perfect their symphony at dusk—
in its solitude we remember ourselves
