Tag: poem

Five-Point-Two Miles

And so, I went walking car dodging, road hopping, side walking past a greyscale alley. You went with me, held me back when foot slipped into traffic and life flashed memories. She went with me, yelling about walking exactly two-point-six miles to the sea….

Folded Field Notes: MIGRATION

Folded Field Notes : Join our community based writing project exploring the ecological theme of “migration.”

Excerpt from WATERSHED

painting of mountains and river by Randle Panfilio

A poem from Jean L. French’s collection — now available in Global Edition. Incanto I call the name of rain a secret name without words. A wisp of cloud grows all day it grows cloud gathers to fullness releases, whispering back to me rain’s…

The day you got tattooed…

puffy clouds in a bright blue sky

the air was thick, and the sky was locked between white and grey. When you lifted your sleeve, they stared back at me like magic marker on the kitchen wall… those markings that will forever brand my child. The ink on your arm was…

My Own Nairobi

colorized ripples on a stream surface

“How is it possible to bring order out of memory.”           ~Beryl Markham, West with the Night. In the mud on the bottom of my boots, I spot a flake of gold mixed in. I take a sharp knife and loosen it out staring at…

the sunset…

sunset over Grassington UK

the sunset unravels its cloak across sky . . . I wait for deepest night to drink my fill of stars ©2018 by Debbie Strange Debbie Strange is an internationally published short form poet, haiga artist and photographer whose creative passions bring her closer…

43 Years

close up of swan wing

I was 43 before I saw swans in flight I was born      raised I loved was loved      am loved I carried life in my swollen belly           in my grateful arms I saw my parents face time with grace      and without grace I have painted…

Elegy

Halfway down a plunging hill, out on a point at Sunshine, Dora Shepard’s sparkling house, foursquare, white, the finest kind, looks across the Thorofare. From this house, on clear days, you’d see sails, shoals, lobster boats, then blue-green water, all the way over to…

On Mill City Park

A group poem from Winni River Days, Franklin NH “It may be cloudy, but that’s okay. What a perfect, fun, wet day!” ~Con Partridge “It’s all about the company, the scenery, and the snacks!” ~Anonymous River days are the best days, flowing by without…

Coyotes

Solstice Series Selection Summer 2018

The coyotes are crying tonight. From across the creek Their wild howls Rise in the trees, Drift over rooftops Through open windows. Not far from our lawns and driveways Lies an ancient world, Of drought, hunger, fire and flood. Of open range and primal…