There is a loosely named, loosely organized, "New London School of Poetry." It is basically a dozen writers who gather every Sunday to enjoy each other's production. New Haven is popularly known as the cultural capitol of the Nutmeg State. New London is the cultural capitol of Southeastern Connecticut. It is time for New London to claim a new coronation.
New London's writers are fixing their bayonets. The men are pinning cockades to thier caps and the women are pinning carnations in New London's colors into corsages. There is going to be a convoy from the Whaling City to the Elm City. Writers of New London, unite! You have nothing to gain but your due!
New Haveners tremble at the thought of plucky, spunky, talented, take-no-prisoners, New Londoners are headed their way. Grand ideas, eloquently put, full of rolling vowels and pregnant pauses will be deployed against the fey, pretentious New Haven style. A rough and tumble bout of wits and have-baked lines will tussle and scuffle in the ivy-clad environs of New Haven. New Londoners like to deploy a shiv and a razor when they split hairs and parse sentences.
There's going to be a convoy. Breaker-breaker. Smokies will be on the I-95 ready to intercept the parade and stop the literary carnage. Get ready New Haven, New London is ready to take control and take charge and claim the crown.
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