Ready to Make Friends with Poetry? ⟶
Summertime is either noisy busy, with houses full of now-at-home children and the moms who want to make the most of the days, or, well….just plain busy. God is in all of it–the kidsounds and joy–and in the quiet, when we can coax it out of our day. Here are some shhhhhh…..thoughts for finding the…
Vashon Hardware, Vashon Island, WA Rudyard Kipling begins his classic “If” poem, urging me to keep my head when all about me are losing theirs, and I’m certain my head–and its grey matter contents– will soon explode for the sums and ciphers impinging on the brain space I. do. not. have. This is a necessary…
My husband and I recently spent some time away for our anniversary and I discovered that in confined quarters–our all in one room on the island–it’s hard to find personal space. My husband’s solution? To not having to listen to me all the time? Turn off his hearing aids. Smile. It made me think about…
If you give a writer a journal She’ll probably say “thank you” (exclamation point) And wonder where the nearest pen or pencil is. If she finds said pen, she’ll take to writing A es a pee. Once she starts writing there’s no telling When she’ll stop—why THINGS COULD HAPPEN. People would be…
How it Began The first poems I ever saved are from Mrs. Appy’s Ninth grade English class in a folder labeled simply ‘Poetry.’ 50 years later I can’t for the life of me locate it but I can see its contents–the ditto ink is faded but still quite legible. There are selections by Richard Brautigan and…
Four thirty a.m. The “chree-chree-chree” sounds in the far off greeny bog. “Whis-tle” “whis-tle” “whis-tle” returns the call, floating notes through the open window. A chorus of chirps and cheeps overlap like leaves in a pile at the singing tree, all the feathered throats announcing– messaging, instantly– a new day never-been-done day, it’s-another-start-day. So I…