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Keyword: Poetry

Lake Galena

With all the garish honking, I expected to see “just married” signs and a tawdry string of tin cans dragging noisily from the tail feathers — Canada Geese dropping out of the blue into a small …

Forty Years

I lay with this man and no one else for forty years or more. I lay with this man and no one else I love him to his core. I lay with this man and no one else since I became his wife. I lay with this man and …

Passion in Tyler State Park

Swallows race to open-mouthed young in the cob-webbed rafters of the cedar boat house. The feeding frenzy takes a voyeuristic back seat as the birds watch lovers entwined on a park bench. Even birds …

“Golden Slumbers”

I am dreaming of golden slumbers And seeing my friend, “hey Jude!” I am dreaming that Eleanor Rigby will notice me On that day, oh! Here comes the sun It is something about her …

While Reading Neruda, I Think of Some Things

Those who watched him living didn’t know how deeply one he was with all of this. -Rainer Maria Rilke

The Sarah Mook Poetry Contest for students in kindergarten through 12th grades, is accepting entries for the 2024 competition. Cash awards are $100 first prize, $50 second prize and $25 third prize in …

Behind Our Eyes

We see the pain, we sense the fear We take it in, we hold it near. We want to help, we want to cry We turn away, we only sigh. We see the wisdom, we see the lies We see the truth, we compromise We never …

She will you know. It begins early morning, as the sun shines down her belly, blinding you with her glaring beauty. She is much more than divine. And that’s the first trick. She beckons with the sweet …

These days many people have been to a yoga class or a poetry reading, but the Yogic Poetry Experience combines both into a familiar yet completely new experience. Launching Friday, Jan. 26, at Seva …

Letting Go

When you napped in my arms, the plump of your lips bearing a slick of milk, your infant breath sweet as nostalgia, I didn’t consider the pulling away. I knew, of course, it would happen based on all the …

Among My Father’s Stories

Much is blamed on women. How we wear our beauty, for example: boldly, irresponsibly, flash and flaunt, or not at all: mouse dropping drab. It’s 1948, girls are singing, wearing white, a chorus from the …

I Hear Them Calling

Strange voices, but not off key thousands, but all in harmony. I can hear them calling me. All past versions of what lives with me. Each having their own bit of complexity ,to the song that is …

Local Color: Lynn Levin is Writing for Her Life

“As a child, I was encouraged to write poems and rhymes. I found it fun. It gave me the greatest pleasure,” Lynn Levin recounted. This early spur has been life-shaping. At last count, the …

Ode to Joy — after Schiller

o friends let us let go of the rocks let us each take a leaf from the ground let us each take a leaf and let it rest for a breath let us each take a leaf and let it float on the breeze let us each hold a …

Squirrels

They were always only bushy-tailed rats. . Pests. Vermin. Nuisances. Stealing the birdseed. Nesting in the crawlspaces, gnawing insulation, causing shorts. Until the day I hit one with my car. Not …

Angel in Bronze

The soft beat of drums, the shuffle of feet, There were thousands who waited and watched in the street. Their beloved president was passing by, Not a smile on their faces, only a muffled cry. There were …

“The wind is like a bully”pushing leaves; breaking branches; roughing skin; biting faces. Nothing like the warm smoothe breeze of Saint Lucia caressing…assuaging tension the sound of the ocean travels …

The Armory

Icy, wet afternoonOut of place in MayBroken heartShatteredAmongst standard steel desksScattered photographsOf a happier timeHeart, you have no place here.Faded fatiguesHow proudly you …

The Armory

Icy, wet afternoon Out of place in May Broken heart Shattered Amongst standard steel desks Scattered photographs Of a happier time Heart, you have no place here. Faded fatigues How proudly you …

Ravens

I push everything I know off to the side.For a moment I watch these two predators,fiddling and flapping, bracing on thick branches; letting goin the stiffening foliage of my ash tree.It’s November. …

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