Monthly Archives: April 2019
Writing on Not Writing
Writing on Not Writing I can feel my ship about to come in. A white ship in a snowstorm moving in. The ship is made of gulls huddled together in the shape of a ship. When it arrives, they will … Continue reading
Apologetic limerick!
And please enjoy this poem from one of our dedicated readers upon learning about this morning’s delay: No limericks on tax day, how absurd! But, technical issues occurred. She tried all she could As we know she would. Our poetrypimp … Continue reading
Tax Day Limericks!
There once was a barber named Ware Who was sadly allergic to hair. When customers called, Unless they were bald, He would sneeze them right out of the chair. Ogden Nash There once was a silly young … Continue reading
telling our stories the fox came every evening to my door asking for nothing. my fear trapped me inside, hoping to dismiss her but she sat till morning, waiting. at dawn we would, each of us, rise from our haunches, … Continue reading
Bad Day
Bad Day Not every day is a good day for the elfin tailor. Some days the stolen cloth reveals what it was made for: a handsome weskit or the jerkin of an elfin sailor. Other days the tailor sees a … Continue reading
The Poetry Show Tonight in North Syracuse
The Poetry Show Wednesday, April 10 from 6:30-8pm | NOPL North Syracuse Retired West Genesee High School teacher Jim Weidman will lead a lively and fun discussion of favorite poems from Robert Frost, E.E. Cummings, Emily Dickinson, and more. You … Continue reading
Requiem
Requiem Today is the perfect day The sky just so clouds moving fast Drops of water on leaves of Russian sage Dog sitting her chin on crossed paws Light streams through branches of locust tree I sit just so at … Continue reading
Chapter One I love how books begin; those passages that lead us by the hand across the luxurious lawns, that portage us gently up the gravel drive, toward the manor house. The author is still a kind host here, anxious … Continue reading
Two Friends
Two Friends The last word this one spoke was my name. The last word that one spoke was my name. My two friends had never met. But when they said that last word they spoke to each other. I am … Continue reading
Poem to Raymond Carver
Poem to Raymond Carver comforter thrown over my legs late morning cats asleep at my feet I am reading a tattered copy of A NEW PATH TO THE WATERFALL you said you wanted this all of your life waking each … Continue reading