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Leialoha Perkins Lahaina, Maui, Hawai''i / United States, Female, 87
Profession :
Education :
Ph.D., M.A., M.S., B.A.
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4/20/2014 4:05:00 PM
11/19/2013 11:42:00 AM
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11/19/2013 11:19:00 AM
11/14/2013 7:31:00 AM
7/5/2013 10:02:00 AM
7/5/2013 9:58:00 AM
7/4/2013 9:18:00 PM
7/4/2013 9:16:00 PM
7/4/2013 9:15:00 PM

Latest 5 Poems of Leialoha Perkins

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Leialoha Perkins's last comments on poems and poets

  • POET: John Keats (6/17/2016 12:43:00 AM)

    To the writer of this very fine, sensitive, thorough biography connecting extended critical reviews of the John Keats his poems, his friends, the times, the cross currents of appreciation and bitter responses from the poetʻs peers, not unmixed with a competitive personal challenge, my deepest gratitude. Not only are the insights fair, they are incisive. The range provokes extended questions and thought. I am sorry that the author has not listed his/her name, for my thanks is personal, not merely professional. Of special interest, for example, is to be informed that the Keats papers are at Harvard and that there was another young woman in John Keatsʻ life named Jones, and that Keats could not bear to write directly to Fanny Brawne, after arriving in Rome, but wrote to her mother, instead. This latter point explains why, in Jane Campionʻs movie Bright Star, the letter from Rome is addressed to Mrs. Brawne and not to Fanny. The difference reveals the excruciating pain that Keats must have experienced, which is confirmed seemingly nowhere else that I have read - of Keatsʻ cruel end, even among his loving friends who, for professional and correct reasons allowed Keats to suffer the interminable coughing and fever and hunger pains than allow him peace. For this sharing of knowledge, I thank you warmly,
    -Leialoha A. Perkins

  • POEM: Churchgoing by Marilyn Nelson (4/26/2016 2:49:00 PM)

    Simply put. Clear. Truth-telling. Fresh. Memorable.

  • POEM: Alone With Everybody by Charles Bukowski (4/10/2016 1:53:00 AM)

    What spirit! It rings with the casualness and truculence and respect for things of the inner life - from the first word to the last. I had never heard of Bukowski until last year or the year before - I think he died then and Newsweek or Time caught his name off some (Iʻm tempted to think) indifferent small town paper. The article said he was a poet, and was poor, lived (it was suggested) off the streets....and so on, the kinds of things that well dressed, normal people love to show how, thank-god, not everybody does that kind of thing, even for poetry.
    Here is a wonderful poet. Unmistakably the best among American poets.

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