Events

Dark & Scary

FIREIt’s almost here! Dark and Scary at the Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry. We will check out the museum, have cookies and cocoa, and tell scary stories around the campfire when it gets dark.

DARK & SCARY
Oct. 25, Saturday
6-9 p.m.
Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry
Locust Grove

Bring a favorite scary poem to read. If you entered the Scary Poem Contest—come prepared to share your poem and take home a prize! FREE. FREE. FREE.

Beware the Sasquatch, the coyote, and . . . other scary things in the dark…..Let’s entertain them with poetry.

ROMP is easy to find. Click the Visit Us page. To Google the address or put it in your GPS, just type in Perkins Rd, Locust Grove, and you will find us. Call if you need help. 918-864-9152.

 

Events, Poems

Enjoy Art, Entertainment and High Tea at LGAA Fall Art Tour

Willard Stone: "Something to Believe In"
Willard Stone: “Something to Believe In”

The Locust Grove Arts Alliance is hosting a Fall Art Tour that includes the Willard Stone Museum, the Gourds, Etc. Art Studio of Verna Bates and the Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry (ROMP). The tour will be Saturday, Oct. 18, from 11:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m., with a reception following at 3:15 p.m.

This is a fundraiser for the LGAA. You can buy your ticket in advance from any LGAA member or come to the VFW, starting at 10:00 a.m. to buy a ticket. Tickets are $5.00 per person. Continue reading “Enjoy Art, Entertainment and High Tea at LGAA Fall Art Tour”

Events

Treasure Time: Everyone Invited!

whitmanchair 008Everyone is invited to our next event.

Saturday, Sep. 14

6-9 p.m.

Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry

6619 S. 438 Rd., Locust Grove OK

We are easy to find, and you will enjoy the good company of words and people and nature and dogs and words and . . . oh yeah….a little bit of poetry. Continue reading “Treasure Time: Everyone Invited!”

Poems

Eating the World

The wind lifted me from the concrete,
and I bobbed safely down the hill,
my toes glancing through the green grass
as Sally Field’s hat shepherded the breeze.

If I cut through the park on my way downtown,
I passed the Indian boy’s house–Jon-Jon,
now upright in the valley like the burnt
stump of a oak felled for firewood. Continue reading “Eating the World”