In silence we’re not in control. Word Count: 6 Today’s Reading: James 1 – 5 Don’t forget: On May 1 we start our study of Making Manifest by Dave Harrity. Also… today is the official launch day for L.L. Barkat’s book, Love, Etc.: Poems of Love, Laughter, Longing and Loss. I’ve shared excerpts here, here, […]
poetry dare: tangled up in t.s. eliot
His lines crawl across my cortex when I sit and when I walk and when I lie down and when I rise up. While I wash dishes, he whispers words like maisonette and miasmal mist and fugitive resentment and glazen shelves and green silence. I can’t shake the images of brown waves of fog and daffodil bulbs staring up from eye sockets and a […]
a poetry prompt: lace
Laced in Time A faded photograph from the old Morse School (is that the teacher?), scuffed and grayed tiny tied-together shoes, a yellowed tablecloth safety-pinned with a paper scrap– words penned in my mother-in-law’s hand, “belonged to Grandma Sandquist,”– a child’s tea set and a couple pocket watches, a birthday date book presented in […]
poetry prompt: hinged on a dream
She danced between dreams rusted and worn, whirling and twirling until the music stopped, and she slipped through the keyhole of door number three where she found another door that hinged on a dream. And the lock was broken. Still dreaming and dancing, Sandy Responding to a Tweetspeak Poetry prompt on dancers and […]
a poetry dare with t.s. eliot
Remember that poetry dare issued by Tweetspeak Poetry I mentioned earlier this month? Well, it’s begun . . “We’d like you to read not just a poem a day but a poem from one particular poet a day. (That is, the same poet every day.) And that poet, for reasons we have yet to discover, […]
doors: a photo and poetry prompt
Doors, real and imagined. They invite and shut out. They can lead to life or to death, to the past and to the future, to longing or loneliness, to hope and sometimes despair. Doors handle memories and opportunities. These are just some of the doors I saw last year–in my home, in my yard, in […]
poetry at work: shanty boy
My great-great grandfather, James G. Baxter, lived near Alpena, Michigan, in the late 1800s. He found poetry in his work as a shanty boy and wrote a poem called “The Harvest of the Pine” in 1910. Let me read it to you… And here’s a poem I wrote a couple years ago after visiting […]
poetry at work: my workspace
No closet pocketed the clothes back then, so his bed tucked in that space under the ceiling slant where he peeled wall paper during nap time. I imagine cowboy boots kicked careless in the corner, hat hung on peg while Roy Rogers ticked time. Some years later, his mom exchanged the twin for double and […]
five minute friday: up in smoke
Some days it’s a fight to find a pen with ink that flows words fluid in just five minutes. I prefer the gel — black, though back in the day it was a fountain pen with cartridge — blue, that scratched battles across three-holed, loose leafs lined and ringed right tight in burgundy leather — fake, […]
2013 in review: remembering to re-member
I’m ringing in the new year by remembering… MAKING MEMORIES POPULAR POSTS In Which Cancer Brings Clarity #PrayForDavid Booked: Grace Quotes How to Fix the Brokenness Haiti: When it’s Time to Say Goodbye The Heart Work of Eviction (for The High Calling) Helping a Child Transition (for The High Calling) CLASSES COMPLETED THROUGH TWEETSPEAK POETRY […]
