Resultados narrador por "Ghizela Rowe" en Todas las categorias

This volume of poetry brings together poems throughout history with very special women. The relationship with our Mother is one of the most powerful many of us will ever feel. It rivals those with our children and partners in a way that both permeates and challenges how and on what terms we live our lives. A woman giving birth is not only bringing life into the World, she is doing so, usually, at great pain to herself.

In this volume we examine some of the short stories of William Makepeace Thackeray. The great author of Vanity Fair and The Luck of Barry Lyndon was born in India in 1811. At age five his father died, and his mother sent him back to England. His education was of the best, but he himself seemed unable to apply his talents to a rigorous work ethic. After a few years of marriage his wife began to suffer from depression and over the years became detached from reality.

Women, so often referred to as the gentler sex - in this volume at least, this is an unfounded and unlikely description. From their minds and pens comes a series of macabre, twisted tales that are anything but gentle. But as they weave their magic, usually black, and mesh you into their narrative you just know 'sugar and spice and all things nice' are not likely to be what little girls really are made of and certainly not these femme fatales....

The human race prides itself on being the most organised of animals. We manage the fate of all other species. All other animals bow to our control or suffer. In diminishing numbers we allow some to live in the wild, but in increasing numbers we domesticate them, and whether they become part of the family, a best friend or a wonderfully decorative accessory, we take their compliance for granted.

Our greatest fears are of the unknown. Usually we think those fears are in front of us...or behind us. But perhaps the human body itself holds the greatest horror. What happens after death? Do our bodies have a new existence either in whole...or part? Will others seek to claim them and do unspeakable things? We don’t know. But our authors do. And they have the talents and wits to make these diabolical stories vehicles for horror, for terror, for the unimaginable....

At some point in our lives we believe that creak, that low moan, that whisper is something unnatural, beyond our comprehension. And in these stories our instincts are right. We are afraid. And we should be. Perhaps even terrified. In this volume our classic authors take different approaches, but the result is inevitably the same. We are hooked by these unknowable forces, our emotions heightened and rattled by the expectation - or shock - of the next few words.

The Poetry of Kissing. In many ways the title says it all. Kissing is Poetry. The kiss is perhaps the most loving and intimate moment there is. It is amongst our most soothing and treasured memories. This volume is not about the kiss of a mother’s to her child’s scraped knee, or the father to his baby’s head as he settles down to sleep. No, when the poets here talk of the kiss, they describe the longing and desire, the want and hunger to be part of something that so connects them to another.

Here, in this volume history’s greatest poets convey thoughts, feelings and sentiments of love to you in quick (or bite-size) conversations of verse that can slip into your day and your partner's heart.

Here, in this volume history’s greatest poets convey thoughts, feelings and sentiments of love to you in quick (or bite-size) conversations of verse that can slip into your day and your partner's heart.

Dictionaries summon up many words, but none fulfill. Love itself is often ethereal, felt but only seen in a glance, a look, a fleeting touch. Part of love’s beauty is perhaps in the fact that the question never can be adequately answered; it's ephemeral, a chimera of the heart and only felt. Our own experiences are unique and personal to ourselves and of little help defining it for another.

The question is asked by each of us, but the answer remains elusive. Dictionaries summon up many words, but none fulfill. Love itself is often ethereal, felt but only seen in a glance, a look, a fleeting touch. Part of love’s beauty is perhaps in the fact that the question never can be adequately answered; it's ephemeral, a chimera of the heart and only felt. Our own experiences are unique and personal to ourselves and of little help defining it for another.

Ralph Waldo Emerson was born in Boston, Massachusetts on 25th May 1803, the son of Ruth Haskins and the Rev. William Emerson, a Unitarian minister. Emerson was the second of five sons who survived into adulthood. His father died before Emerson was eight, and the young boy was raised by his mother and other female members of the family. Emerson's formal schooling began at the Boston Latin School in 1812 when he was nine. In October 1817 at 14, Emerson went to Harvard College.

James Weldon Johnson was born in Jacksonville, Florida, on 17th June 1871. His mother, Helen, a musician and a public school teacher, initially home-schooled him, giving him a love of both English literature and European music. At 16, his education moved to Atlanta University, and he graduated with a degree in 1894. In 1904 Johnson helped in Theodore Roosevelt's presidential bid. On winning, Roosevelt appointed him as US consul at Puerto Cabello, Venezuela, in 1906 and then Nicaragua from 1909.

Today perhaps we all agree that youth is spoilt, ill-disciplined and in search of constant and instant gratification. No matter how much we love them, our children, as they mature from child to youth, are pampered. A century ago, and even further back, even the most privileged of youth was rarely indulged. In this volume we look at those years of youth through the eyes and pens of classic poets. They reveal times of hardship, of fear, of love and loss.

This group of 19th-century American poets was the first to rival their British counterparts in popularity. Gathered around their New England roots, they were also known as the Schoolroom or Household poets and comprised of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, William Cullen Bryant, John Greenleaf Whittier, James Russell Lowell and Olivier Wendell Holmes, Sr. Occasionally Ralph Waldo Emerson was included, although his poetic philosophy differed in some key aspects.

The church building has been pivotal to man’s spiritual and religious life for centuries. For many the interior of a church is literally their one to one with God. The interiors, whether soaring or simple, ornate or minimal, are built for communion, for worship. Outside and surrounding our many churches is the churchyard; the burial ground, the repository for faithful souls. An all-weather idyll of calm around where many a poet has sat and contemplated the surrounding world.

George Meredith, OM, was born in Portsmouth, England on February 12th, 1828. His mother died when he was five. As a 14-year-old he was sent to a Moravian School in Neuwied, Germany, staying there for two years. After reading law he was articled as a solicitor but quickly abandoned that career path for journalism and poetry. He collaborated with Edward Gryffydh Peacock, son of Thomas Love Peacock, in publishing a privately circulated literary magazine, the Monthly Observer.

Night. The day has gone. Departed. And the dark embrace, the inky shadows of night descend. For many a time to unwind and slumber. For some a nagging doubt that all is not well. That some primeval and primordial happening may yet go bump in the night. But for our poets the night is a time of wonder and imagination as well as many other emotions and feelings. Among our ranks of gloried talents are Keats, Coleridge, William Morris, DH Lawrence, Whitman, Longfellow and many more besides. Their descriptions capture what they see and feel as perhaps only a poet can.

English law is a pinnacle of human society. The phrase 'Be you ever so high the law is above you' inspires us all to believe that before it all are treated equally. But in the imposing wood-panelled courts, in front of the beady eyes of wig-decked judge, delivering justice tempered with mercy, our vision twists and falls prey to the mind.

For much of history women have been seen rather than heard. Their thoughts, their views, have lain too long in the shadows of our culture. Whilst this traditional view has some merit it is not entirely accurate. Here, gathered together in these volumes, we can, through their words, experience their lives; we can hear their voices, their thoughts, joys, loves and losses. For the female poet there was always the confining hand of men to instruct that their time was perhaps spent more productively elsewhere.