As I Possess Both Paper and Pen

Write. Why do it? Is it getting me famous? Nope. Is it making me wealthy? Nope. I loathe the steps that could lead to fame and wealth: submission after submission after submission. For it, I have little time or patience. Besides, who’s ever encountered a wealthy poet? I write because… well, here’s why I write.

As I Possess Both Paper and Pen

The meadow will always
be draped in spring,
green, thick, speckled

with the hues and fire
of wildflowers. When needed,
the north will share

its breath, cool, sweetened
by all the sugars
a forest protects: a birch’s bark,

the dark earth. Even the goblin
will lift his crooked face to the sun,
fill his lungs with these fruits,

and set free the hare snared
in a clever trap, its small heart
thundering with fear and life.

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Inspired by today’s Daily Prompt from WordPress.

After the Rain

I spent this past weekend in New Jersey’s High Point State Park camping with my son and his Boy Scout troop. It rained!! But that’s ok. I discovered something wonderful.

photo by S. Thomas Summers

After the Rain

Watch and you’ll see her –
the fairy, darting through

the mist, cleansing her
hands in the last

rain drop shimmering
in the palm of the green leaf

before the day’s heat
calls it back to heaven.

Before the Sun is Lost

Here’s a part of my today.

Consolation

There’s always dusk,
when the shadows stretch
across the porch

like a splay of soft blankets
A catbird, gray as ash,
will, for a moment, perch

on the railing as it considers
the steam rising from your tea.
You’ll only notice the pine’s perfume,

as fresh as winter, after the bird
is called away: there’s a nest to repair
before the sun is lost, before it’s lost.

Two Ladies Fishing

The poem shared below is insipred by the posted paiting, Daniel Ridgway Knigt’s Two Ladies Fishing, and Kate Chopin’s The Story of an Hour. “The title of the short story refers to the time elapsed between the moments at which the protagonist, Louise Mallard, hears that her husband is dead and discovers that he is alive after all. The Story of an Hour was considered controversial during the 1890s because it deals with a female protagonist who feels liberated by the news of her husband’s death. In Unveiling Kate Chopin, Emily Toth argues that Chopin “had to have her heroine die” in order to make the story publishable.

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Two Ladies Fishing

The men will call soon,
want us to return to our duties:

the clothes drying on the line,
wrestling with the wind,

a group of misshapen flags,
and the baby, crying, tears shining

on his cheeks like small diamonds,
needs his mother’s voice.

But that can wait a moment.
Last night’s rain has blessed

the river with a new will; it reaches
over its banks, pulling its cold heft

away from the earth it’s chained to,
away from the earth it’s chained to.

Fe Fi Fo Fum

This piece speaks to the power of old stories and the comfort they offer many of us.

In Stone Ovens

This morning it’s the pine
unfurling its shadow across
backyard snow – a dark path
reaching for distant wood
where giants and ogres
bake bread floured
with the bones
of my fathers, bread spread
with the sweet jam
of old stories and songs.

I shall make tea, warm the glade
with its steam, let these monsters
bounce me on their knees –
how much I remind them
of all that’s been lost.

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Inspired by The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “You, the Sandwich.”

This Moment

Community – it comes in all forms: cities, towns, families, friendships. Here’s the “community” of a moment.

Over a Bag of Potting Soil

No doubt – this moment
bears it all: the chipmunk
that skitters along a road’s lip,
finding sanctuary in the darkness

gathering beneath a sewer grate,
the marigold you planted
in the mouth of an old sneaker,
and the purple Frisbee

on the garage shelf – it’s wedged
between a can of roofing nails
and the empty bottle of Merlot
that I’ve begun to fill with pennies.

This moment shoulders me, the bench
I rest on, its gray-weathered slats,
and the fragrance of curry seeping
from the neighbor’s kitchen window.

I’ll rest here, cast my weight
upon this scrap of time hoping
when mass and frame, sound and sense
are passed to the moment to come

you’ll still be leaning over a bag
of potting soil, preparing my old
work boots for a clutch of daisies
and the greens of rosemary and thyme.

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Inspired by The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Idyllic.”

The Importance of Dandelions

Today, my stepped outside and found my yard dotted with dandelions. Hoping to transform a negative into a positive…

The Importance of Dandelions

Their golden faces
reflect the sun
like a thousand discarded
doubloons, but cast
enough shade to cool
the spirits napping
beneath them
before the waltz
at the Dragonfly Ball
where the gallant,
fireflies and tiger moths,
wait to woo and filch
the innocence of the fairy
whose beauty
triumphs all.

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Inspired by The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Flip Flop.”