Mara says what she likes best about me is how easy I am to please like when she showed me how to make Celtic borders in Microsoft Word I clapped my hands and cheered And when she said – while looking up a word playing scrabble – The dictionary always distracts me I giggled and […]
Roadside Mullein at midsummer’s peak stands erect in shameless bloom like a flag of male assuredness making claim to the season’s fertile gifts ~The Blue Ridge Parkway 7/17/06
My ambition rises in a sluggish summer day to the number of squash bugs in my garden Death by squish is not for the squeamish but I’m the mother of butternut Out of my way!
I opened my eyes to a tangible memory of my father’s kisses Hanging in the air like an overcoat with pockets forgotten in the summer taking up space in the closet As I shake off the sleep a question takes shape If I added them up over the course of my life would […]
And I am stuffed with facts…overweight with the nightly news…Poetry is the bell …that saves me from being…all-consumed ~ From “Political Prose is Hard Labor” ~ by Colleen Sharing a beer with my girlfriend, Jayn, at Over the Moon Café, a mutual friend approached us to compliment Jayn on a poem she had written, which […]
My poet friend, Mara, gets serenaded with an impromptu poem written and read by a woman who happened to be in the Café del Sol Wednesday when we were celebrating Mara’s birthday with a Scrabble game party. I just have one question for Mara: Do the green frogs on your t-shirt glow in the dark? […]
Like the Sufi mystic poets of old who did not see themselves as separate from God and who met in secret to protect themselves from fanatical fundamentalists who thought otherwise, a group of women friends gathered around a table for tea and something more…talk of the Dharma, the Tao, the Wise Woman Way. “Bring something […]
Spring is a fling of short lived blooms, more about romance than marriage. Crocus and daffodils, my first loves of spring, make a strong impression, but soon I’m feeling fickle, waiting for tulips. And no sooner do my eyes adjust to the brilliant gold of forsythia then the dogwoods burst on the scene. The dogwoods […]
In the beginning I misunderstood… But now I’ve got it, the word is good. ~ The Word by Lennon/McCartney An hour before it was time to head out for Spoken Word Open Mic at the Café Del Sol in downtown Floyd, my husband reminded me that I was supposed to box up 20 of my […]
Someone sent the scrabble poem I wrote for my poet friend Mara to Sy Safransky, editor of The Sun Magazine. It was Rosemary, a member of the Writers’ Workshop that Mara and I belong to, who told us at the spoken word open mic last night. Rosemary gave the poem to her friend who knows […]
April is National Poetry Month. With that in mind, I decided to attempt to answer the following questions posed by Carol at A Revision. 1. Where do your poems start? What causes you to sit down and write a poem? Is it a certain emotion? Poetry is a constant in my life. I seem […]
In April when others are doing taxes, I’m counting a different kind of yearly income; the heads of daffodils and the buds of tulips. Blinded by the exploding gold of forsythia against a rich blue sky, I try not to be greedy for purple, and as I watch the return of green, take inventory of […]
