Doug Paratore is a software engineer and amateur poet. He read some of his own poems as well those by famous poets such as Shakespeare and Thoreau. Doug told some stories from his own life, providing the backdrop for his deep and meaningful poetry.
Poetry Night – February 2014
January 25, 2014 by benrosner
Posted in Uncategorized | 3 Comments
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Barn Night Details
Barn Nights take place monthly, always on a Friday. The barn is located behind the house at 41 Deerfield. The doors open at 8pm, so feel free to come by, grab a beer and a slice of pizza, and socialize. The presentations start at 9pm and go for about an hour. Afterwards you can hang out and jam with or listen to the Barn Band. For the die hards there’s usually a “wrap up” at around midnight where we share our thoughts on the presentation and get into deep, controversial discussions. There’s a contribution box for you to drop in a minimum of $20 to help offset the cost of the event.
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Thank you to Doug for an inspired and inspiring presentation. Doug has access to the myriad streams in the deep pool of his consciousness and the spirit, energy, and song of heart to be a poet. We should gather again to tune in unimpeded (with no muttering distractions from the back of the room) to such nourishing voices, showing due respect to the poets among us.
As a former resident of Bronxville Manor with the fresh perspective of an outsider, I’d like to make an observation about the nature of discourse at The Barn. It seems to me that this very special meeting place, with echoes of the smoke-filled parlors of our Founding Fathers, has become a divided battleground for the Culture War that rages in our society. It shouldn’t be that way. It should not be difficult to conjure the protocol to establish common terms of reference and to abide by millennia-old rules of chivalry and a gentleman’s code of conduct and mutual respect. Instead I see haughty disdain for the rules of engagement and obstinate refusal to negotiate mutually acceptable metrics for all that must be measured in order for a meaningful exchange to take place. I see red-faced hatred and bulging-eye contempt. I hear spit-hissing loathing, tongues up-turned in the muck of insult from which nothing of airy sentience can fly forth and only bilge may slide down, down and down further, into the filth from which it was begot. Such manners defile our Barn and make it less of a destination for civilized men to enter, let alone find the fellowship with which to revel or learn. We can do better, guys,
algore is a big fat lying arse