She led me to the library, fed stories to my ears taught me how to keep the family blood circulating to pull my shoulders back, stand proud
she showed me laughter around the table camping in cold rain, beauty beyond lipstick the effective use of stubborn determination
she made a million meals without consideration flowered apron ready dinners with a smile Did she even enjoy cooking? I don't remember anyone asking her.
She washed clothes, replacing them in drawers a revolving door of dirty to clean just another behind the scenes devotion.
How much did we notice the way she kept the boat afloat watching for leaks while we slept.
I first learned about a dazzle of zebras on a trip to Kenya in 2023. What a great word. This poem led me down a rabbit hole to learn more about the history of collective nouns. Here is a fun article if you are curious, A Shrewdness of Apes? Collective Nouns Are a 500-Year-Old Language Fad
Join a welcoming community of poets at dVerse Poets' Pub, HERE. Tonight's challenge - write a quadrille using the word blaze.
Photo taken in Portland, Oregon on my hike of "appreciating the flowering trees" this past weekend. They remind me to love big. I hope they inspire you to reach out to someone you have been missing.
A big thank you to editor Barbara Leonhard for publishing my poem, Words For Sale. This poem considers the value of poetry and the possibilities that a poem can offer. I invite you to visit MasticadoresUsa to read the poem, enjoy the poetry of others, and share your thoughts.
Thank you to all the readers that help keep poetry alive.
Within my rooted being lies a box of green when the world becomes too loud for living I retreat to this sanctuary of survival lined with dewy moss to quench and revive.
Within my rooted being lies a box of yellow when heart is crushed by grief, weary from war I find my way to this room of sunshine warm with light to feel my pain, begin again.
Within my rooted being lies a box of clarity when my feet have forgotten the feel of freedom when my head spins in dismay I hold my heart in both hands, ask for help believing love is on the way.
Within the writing circle, I use poems as prompts. Each person is invited to let their words fall onto the page. During a recent gathering, we wrote from Kim Russell’s poem, Just Saying. It was the perfect poem to jump from. Thank you, Kim.
In celebration of two people who recently tried the writing circle for the first time I am sharing their poems. It takes courage to share your voice and hear it reflected back to you. Thank you to Tandy and Frannie.
It’s not just a thought. It’s the feelings and hope of a new tomorrow. It’s not just a dream. It’s the past remembered, re-created, and processed to form the future. It’s not just a memory it’s all the memories that come together from the depth of the soul and leave a mark on the world. It’s not just me. It’s everyone who has come before me and everyone who will come after to continue the circle.
By Tandy Wolf
It is not just a memory it is the past awaking in the mind time long and short ago sorted and squished into shapes and colors and whispers to ignite present feelings.
It is not just bird songs but wafts of melodious sounds carried on a spring breeze swirling and drifting into a grateful consciousness.
In winter's grasp, we linger, longing for spring's embrace. Does the waiting make arrival all the more precious? A glowing light across the street reminds me of companionship. Within these cold days gathering, we are the light for each other. Together is our way forward toward blooming.
Often wintertide darkness can seem a season too long. I cradle reminders of past flowers, new growth of green wrapped in warm memories of meandering meadows wide. While frost edges my windows in delicate design. In winter's grasp, we linger, longing for spring's embrace.
flashlight batteries - Ali Grimshaw 