24
May

Micropoetry – 5/24/2016 – Rick Stephen

girlwindowshe waited for him with
an abiding patience
yet he had worlds
to conquer
of which hers
was but one

4 comments

4
May

They Dance Through Granelli’s – Pat Emile

American Life in Poetry: Column 580
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE

Pat Emile is Assistant Editor and Jill-Of-All-Trades for this column. Were it not for her help I couldn’t keep these weekly selections coming. Here she is in another role, as a poet, stopping in a little food market and noticing things the way a poet should notice them.

They Dance Through Granelli’s

He finds her near the stack
of green plastic baskets waiting to be filled
and circles her waist with his left arm,
entwines her fingers in his, pulls her toward him,
Muzak from the ceiling shedding a flashy Salsa,
and as they begin to move, she lets
her head fall back, fine hair swinging
a beat behind as they follow
their own music—a waltz—past the peaches
bursting with ripeness in their wicker baskets,
the prawns curled into each other
behind cold glass, a woman in a turquoise sari,
her dark eyes averted. They twirl twice
before the imported cheeses, fresh mozzarella
in its milky liquid, goat cheese sent down
from some green mountain, then glide past
ranks of breads, seeds spread across brown crusts,
bottles of red wine nested together on their sides.
He reaches behind her, slides a bouquet
of cut flowers from a galvanized bucket, tosses
a twenty to the teenaged boy leaning
on the wooden counter, and they whirl
out the door, the blue sky a sudden surprise.

3 comments

26
April

With Spring In Our Flesh – Don Welch

American Life in Poetry: Column 579
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE

Don Welch

Don Welch

Early each spring, Nebraska hosts, along a section of the Platte River, several hundred thousand sandhill cranes. It’s something I wish everyone could see. Don Welch, one of the state’s finest poets, lives under the flyway, and here’s his take on the migration. His most recent book is Gnomes, (Stephen F. Austin State Univ. Press, 2013).

With Spring In Our Flesh

With spring in our flesh
the cranes come back,
funneling into a north
cold and black.

And we go out to them,
go out into the town,
welcoming them with shouts,
asking them down.

The winter flies away
when the cranes cross.
It falls into the north,
homeward and lost.

Let no one call it back
when the cranes fly,
silver birds, red-capped,
down the long sky.

4 comments

19
April

Glowing Gazania by Rick Stephen

gg

A beautiful Gazania blossom glows when backlit by the sun. A sure sign of spring around these parts, Gazania blossoms are everywhere thanks to a relatively wet winter courtesy of El Niño.

Photograph by Rick Stephen. Available on Fine Art America.

2 comments

18
April

The Way We Said Goodbye by Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate

kooser_hp
American Life in Poetry: Column 578

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE

I can’t help wishing that dogs lived as long as we do. I have buried a number of them, and it doesn’t get any easier. In fact, it gets harder. Here’s Mark Vinz, a Minnesota poet, from his book Permanent Record and Other Poems, from Red Dragonfly Press.

The Way We Said Goodbye

So many years later, the old dog
still circles, head lowered, crippled by
arthritis, nearly blind, incontinent.
We repeat the litany, as if we need
convincing that the end is right.

I’ll get her an ice cream cone if you’ll
drive her to the vet, my wife says.
So there we sit on the front steps
with our friend, and in the car, as always,
when she senses the doctor’s office
drawing near, she moans and tries to
burrow underneath the seats.

 What remains, the memory of how
she taught us all the way we need
to learn to live with wasting.
There we sit, together, one last time
as all that sweetness slowly disappears.

2 comments

8
April

Thoughts Upon My Bed by Rick Stephen

bedatnight
Thoughts Upon My Bed

 

I wonder

Has the night always been so deep
and dark?

In my youth, it seemed
much less so

When twilight thoughts upon my pillow drifted on calm breezes
into serene dreams

And always returned with morning’s wind
and the rising sun.

Now, tempest tossed, they are driven far, far away, lost
in night’s inky blackness

Ships receding, then slipping over unknown horizons,
never to return

So tell me

Has the night always been so deep
and dark or

just that my mind has become
much more so?

8 comments

2
April

April is Here and So Is National Poetry Month 2016!

npm
April is here and that means that so is National Poetry Month 2016! National Poetry Month is the largest literary celebration in the world, with tens of millions of readers, students, K-12 teachers, librarians, booksellers, literary events curators, publishers, bloggers, and, of course, poets marking poetry’s important place in our culture and our lives.

While we should celebrate poets and poetry year-round, the Academy of American Poets was inspired by the successful celebrations of Black History Month (February) and Women’s History Month (March), and founded National Poetry Month in April 1996 with an aim to:

  • highlight the extraordinary legacy and ongoing achievement of American poets, encourage the reading of poems,
  • assist teachers in bringing poetry into their classrooms,
  • increase the attention paid to poetry by national and local media,
  • encourage increased publication and distribution of poetry books, and
  • encourage support for poets and poetry.
  • You can learn more about National Poetry Month and how you can be involved by visiting the National Poetry Month 2016 web page at Poets.orge. Celebrate poetry and have fun!

    2 comments

    23
    March

    Serene Sunrise – Photography by Rick Stephen

    serenesunrise

    The sun breaks the horizon over a serene Lake Elsinore in southern California. I miss having the time to stop by the lake in the early mornings as when this photo was taken. It was a good way to start the day and a habit I need to resume. I hope you enjoyed the photo! Click on the photo to see this photo and others in my portfolio.

    2 comments

    18
    November

    Micropoetry – Alone on the Porch

    porchsunset

    sitting
    alone on the porch,
    the sun burning a hole
    in the horizon,
    a breeze, gentle,
    ever so slight,
    caresses my face and,
    closing my eyes,
    becomes
    your breath

    4 comments

    23
    October

    Sublime Swallowtail by Rick Stephen

    sublimeswallowtail

    Sometimes I just get lucky as in this case. I took my camera to a local park while on my lunch break yesterday. One end of the park attracts butterflies, primarily Swallowtails, Monarch, Mourning Cloak and lots of Skippers. This beautiful Swallowtail was flying to within arms length of me, turning and then coming back. Finally, it settled down on a bush mere feet away. With my zoom macro lens, I was able to capture a few frames of this sublime beauty. It was as if she wanted my attention and then posed for me. Would that all these beautiful creatures be so cooperative. I hope you enjoy the photo!

    4 comments

    Back to top

    Follow

    Get every new post on this blog delivered to your Inbox.

    Join other followers: