Who is Conrad Potter Aiken

Conrad Potter Aiken (August 5, 1889 – August 17, 1973) was an American writer and poet, honored with a Pulitzer Prize and a National Book Award, and was United States Poet Laureate from 1950 to 1952. His published works include poetry, short stories, novels, literary criticism, a play, and an autobiography.

Biography

Early years

Aiken was the eldest son of William Ford and Anna (Potter) Aiken. In Savannah, Aiken's father became a respected physician and eye surgeon, while his mother was the daughter of a prominent Massachusetts Unitarian minister. On February 27, 1901, Dr. Aiken murdered his wife and then committed suicide. According to his autobiography, Ushant, Aiken, then 11 years old, heard the two gunshots and discovered the bodies immediatel...
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Top 10 most used topics by Conrad Potter Aiken

Light 80 White 74 Dark 72 Music 70 Dust 67 Sea 67 Long 66 Rain 64 Wind 62 Blue 62


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Platospupil: when the tree bares, the music of it changes: hard and keen is the sound, long and mournful; pale are the poplar boughs in the evening light above my house, against a slate-cold cloud. –conrad potter aiken (1889–1973)
Soriverlibrary: birthday of conrad aiken conrad potter aiken was an american writer and poet, honored with a pulitzer prize, a national book award, and was u.s. poet laureate from 1950-2. august 5, 1889, savannah, ga
Yogiscottl: "the sunshine of life is made up of very little beams, that are bright all the time." ~ conrad potter aiken
Sounznz: a poem by conrad potter aiken provides the tragic text for gabriel khor’s ‘zudora’, a setting for soprano and piano. the composer accompanies soprano emma cronshaw-hunt in this resound film from the 2018 lilburn trust nzsm composers competition. emma was…
Tourbonaventure: bonaventure cemetery tours . . . conrad potter aiken (1889-1973) the poet and pulizer prize writer, was born in sav...
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Poem of the day

Edgar Albert Guest Poem
The Killing Place
 by Edgar Albert Guest

We're hiking along at a two-forty pace
We 're making life seem like a man-killing race,
With our nerves all on edge and our jaws firmly set
We go rushing along; with our brows lined with sweat
And our cheeks pale and drawn every minute we dash,
And the goal that we 're after is merely more cash.

We 're out for the money, the greenbacks and gold,
...

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