Opera and Poet


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A Passion for Opera
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"I have been reading your poems evenings. Very enjoyable. A wonderful mix of erudition, whimsy, and gloom. Thanks for making them available."

         ---W. W. , M. D.
         Harvard Medical School

"North Pomfret Poems reveals an astonishing array of personalities, and all those puckish word plays and twists...What a treat."

        ---M. Bouchard, Author

"The poems are wonderfully various---some robust and daring, others melancholy and contemplative, and some downright funny."

        ---Catherine Tudish
         Valley News


Songs of Life,
Love, and Death
For Four Seasons

Peter Fox Smith's love for poetry, like that for opera, dates from early childhood. A great-grandfather was a published poet, a favorite Uncle endlessly recited Shakespeare by heart, and from his baritone father Peter became familiar with great poems set to music. Often rather than doing assigned homework Peter spent hours reading and memorizing poetry by Tennyson, Shakespeare, Coleridge, and others. He began writing his own poems in Junior High School.

While in graduate school at Harvard, Peter Fox Smith was a member of the renowned American poet Robert Lowell's Poetry Table. Peter's first published poems appeared in Scribe Literary Quarterly and were praised by Harvard Professor Ralph Lazaro, a linguist who could read, write, and speak twelve languages.

NORTH POMFRET POEMS, Peter Fox Smith's first book of poetry, presents selected poems written between 1968 and 1993. Almost all the poems were written in North Pomfret, Vermont and many of them originated in the life he and his family lived on their small farm.

This book's poems vary from the philosophical to the literal, some are descriptive of the natural changes of the seasons, others humorous, like this last poem in the book which recently "brought down the house" as he concluded one of his popular readings:

Cremate, please!
Too much limb and pound
For little left
Precious ground.

Cremate, please!
Don't let those who care
Cage me, fancy-boxed,
Stuck there
Under ugly, marble-topped,
Phony-flowered mound.

Cremate, please!
Leave no hair on
Taxidermied skull
Nor jelly-stuffed flesh
On bony legs.

Cremate, please!
But save ashes few
For a minute glass
So my wife can
Time her eggs.

To purchase NORTH POMFRET POEMS, please see the Contact page.

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