Ready to Make Friends with Poetry? ⟶
“In the beginning” begs the existence of a dot, the endpoint of a line referencing time and movement, like an ant on the Golden Gate Bridge. If there is time (now) and movement (how?) why do we shun this guess the size of a galaxy, turn from the possibility of a God placing us just…
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…
Under Construction Concrete ripped and piled Bulldozed building pieces askew Saltines stacked on a pile of dirt. There is mess everywhere. Plastic flaps outside, tucked in and under, Protecting not much anymore. Piles of rebar readied for foundations Sand, rock for ballast, fill. There is mess everywhere. The glare of lights, warning signs, Ominous fences….
Six o’clock sounds say ‘hurry home’ in the rush and whoosh of tires sliding through the rain soaked street. The tick, click, tick of the clock confirms the dinner hour while a bird through the window with his “cheerup, cheerup, cheer!” reminds any and all listeners that evening is approaching. The electronic hmmzzzzzzzz…. of the…
One thing the world needs is for more people to read poetry. Especially from female writers of a certain age who identify as people of faith. I hope you enjoy this small round up and take the time to read more of their work via the links provided. You will be richer for it. It should…
I want to fly these dumbbells up, down, up, down quick! The momentum of each lift rising at my side pushing past perhaps what’s safe or wise in the name of what? Speed or yes, the checklist-exercise- done! When I slow instead, face the window and raise these weighted arms slow, slow, slow-up; slow, slow,…