The Live Poets Society

Again  Another senseless violent school shooting  Again multiple lives changed forever  Again I do not understand – how such a dist...

Trace chalk dust memorializes my childhood blackboard. Washable,  no-muss markers replace broken  crayons in tin cans in my old  ...

Oz is the land we dream of on nights when giants stalk the gloomy woods, and wicked witches wait beyond the curve of the yellow b...

The bent wood of the empty highchair Darkens each year, even though the caning Holds up against the long-departed weight Of your tiny...

Now we are a tear in the shape of a person— a tear that screams. Or maybe we are a blood-drop who is a person— blood that wails and...

for Scott Coskie, a talented theater director who  loved Christmas and everything Disney Defying December winds one blustery day,...

A two-year-old calls out “Ring, Ring!” and hands us a play phone, and we take it and say “Hello.” We carry on a full conversation if ...