Poetry

The Only Symphony

The Only Symphony Who isn’t drifting inside and out at the same time? Whose heart doesn’t float like a paper-thin note on the wind? I have been watching the leaves do their leaving, watching the wind scoop over and under...

Poetry Festival in New Jersey | A Celebration of Literary Journals

Poetry Festival: A Celebration of Literary Journals Sunday, May 20, 2012 | 1:00 to 5:00 PM West Caldwell Public Library 30 Clinton Road, West Caldwell, NJ 07006 973-226-5441 Schedule 1:20-1:30—Welcome 1:30-1:40—Lips: Linda Cronin, Jim Gwyn 1:40-1:50—Tiferet: Mark Hillringhouse, Linda Radice 1:50-2:00—US 1 Worksheets:...

a mystical poem 2 share…

DIVINE REBIRTH I AM ever engulfed in your embrace… no movement of thought not the farthest distance can pull me apart from this state of grace You are I AM… I AM ever the Self and all that seems apart extends...

Poetry Prompt for Week of August 22

This week's poetry prompt – color in poetry – has been posted. Your poems and comments (you can post poems and comments on the blog site) are always welcome! http://adelekenny.blogspot.com/

Your Opening: An Easter Poem

The garden is not grateful to the gardener. The bud does not cry, 'Open me!' Darkness untangles threads of light without God's fingers, filaments of pollen spilling from the reckless void. The gardener is grateful to the garden. Only...

Holiday Grace

One of the Family Frederick Cotman  1880   This week, instead of memorizing a poem for the Mnemosyne Weekly, I'll be spending time with family. But I'd still like to share a poem with you. No matter what...

The Mnemosyne Weekly: Poem Twenty-Three (Berry)

Original Post: http://melissastuddard.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-mnemosyne-weekly-poem-twenty-three.html    Wendell Berry "The Peace of Wild Things" Photo Credit: Dan Carraco   I believe in serendipity, destiny, and what is meant to be. Not too long ago my friend Paula Todd King suggested this poem for The Mnemosyne Weekly, and then,...

MY BELOVED………….. WHAT IS LOVE ?

MY BELOVED, WHAT IS LOVE ? My Beloved When you asked narinder, “ What is Love ?” Who was it, who asked ? And who was it, who was asked ? And when narinder said , “ I am...

“A Prayer for Platelets”

I. Bruised Did you bump into something—a table’s edge or a low bench? That’s a nasty one: bluish-purple with greenish-yellow. More than a week’s time, still fading. I am delicate, easily bruised, like a peach left on the counter to ripen.   II. Scarred After the last time, I waited eight...

Lunar Eclipse

I drove the streets, looking for the moon, the red moon. I couldn’t find it at first. The trees were in the way, the stoplights too bright. I drove west and west, found an open space, where the boulevard...