Ready to Make Friends with Poetry? ⟶
When my mother was taken by cancer at the age of 55 and I was 33, there was no estate to divide, no money to deposit, no silver to share. After she was gone, I wasn’t saddened by the loss of anything tangible like an inheritance, but because there were questions I would never have answers…
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 e.e.cummings, of course,…
Autumn morning, my eyes are trainedthrough windows to the shadowshow on tree trunks, crayon box of colors falling through space from newly-revealed branches.Creator comes to mind, how Hecarries us, colors us, covers uswith His power, tree-like arms ourstrength, raising us Heavenward. Aware that sap is invisible, a pulsing, stickyriver, carrying nourishment in its wake while…
Ivy’s on the corner with her papers and her change. I stop, she chats and I cheer her on As she shares this chapter of her life Titled “October through February,” Bringing her to this sunny corner in May. The lines on her face tell a story Like the layers of life in a beautiful,…
A mountain so wide the horizon could not contain it The path rough and boulder-strewn, here a plain, then stumbling again through the dark undergrowth towards the top. We left for this journey in the light— someone keeps stealing it away. Sun rays appear in glimmers through the trees, a flutter here and there Revealing life,…
There was no faithline, no family promises passed on through prayer. Only a bloodline from Creation’s start, scarlet thread bound and wound together, a cord the color of life, made by a Weaver who dyed it red with blood. Woven with the loom of love, a lifeline coming my way~ a cord in the window~…