tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7320080607016581524.post2443137381642897926..comments2024-03-28T15:09:21.698-04:00Comments on The Miss Rumphius Effect: Monday Poetry Stretch - SomonkaTriciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18350907653629775293noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7320080607016581524.post-61473292041562868752017-03-11T17:38:31.381-05:002017-03-11T17:38:31.381-05:00
Mom says, “it’s okay
to have brillo pad like ...<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Mom says, “it’s okay<br />to have brillo pad like hair,<br />skin like dark chestnut,<br />a nose that spreads out<br />like Dad’s loving arms.”<br /><br />“If that’s the case,” I <br />say, “then why does my class look<br />like I’m about to <br />contaminate their<br />alabaster world?”<br /><br />(c) Charles Waters 2017 all rights reserved.Charles Watershttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18336052424127127605noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7320080607016581524.post-90009855071672487892016-12-31T20:01:02.958-05:002016-12-31T20:01:02.958-05:00"....a shoot from the stump..."
..."....a shoot from the stump..."<br /> Isaiah 11:1<br /><br />By the grace of God<br />shelter waited in your leaves<br />dancing proud and high,<br />until your joy was ambushed<br />by lightening storm and thunder.<br /><br />By the wrath of God,<br />unnoticed, unnoticing,<br />lying wretched, low.<br />You saw me as home, not tree,<br />freeing fruit to Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03639189488267519417noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7320080607016581524.post-34033030694365894242016-12-29T21:01:17.065-05:002016-12-29T21:01:17.065-05:00Conversation with A Ghost
One fourth of our lives...Conversation with A Ghost<br /><br />One fourth of our lives<br />together is the new count:<br />the time you’ve gone.<br />The tick and tock of your flight<br />cannot measure my deep grief.<br /><br />This measure of grief<br />has no meaning under ground.<br />Do not weep for me.<br />You still walk all our old trails.<br />Now blaze new ones for yourself.<br /><br />©2016 Jane Yolen all Jane Yolenhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16614445497209111557noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7320080607016581524.post-76820980392212381442016-12-27T12:31:59.337-05:002016-12-27T12:31:59.337-05:00Year’s End
Outside my window
two blackbirds perch...Year’s End<br /><br />Outside my window<br />two blackbirds perch on branches.<br />Cold closes the year<br />with its white gloves, like a book<br />closing its last pages.<br /><br />They say there are seeds<br />and bulbs hidden beneath the snow.<br />My blackbirds will look<br />different in the spring, far less<br />portentous, building their nest.<br /><br />—Kate Coombs, 2016<br />all KateCoombshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05584944601221466789noreply@blogger.com