Today I’m writing about tanka for my Examiner.com column. So I thought I’d write a sample tanka because I can’t seem to find the one I wrote when I was doing a report on poetry in the 5th grade. Here is what I came up with: I pick up her bowl and recall her furry…
My next speech for Toastmasters is “Speaking to Entertain” … I have to be humorous for 15-20 minutes. Ug. Anyway, I thought I might do it on food, so was looking for some interesting quotes about food and found this: “The poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.” G.K. Chesterton Well, never…
This poem was written in 1983, inspired by my senior ring, which had a blue spinal stone because my favorite color is blue. It was published in the Spring 1984 issue of Metanoia, the Montgomery High School creative writing magazine. Blue Spinal, Spiral me down, down to the depths of your ocean. I see everything…
This poem was written in 1983 and published in the Spring 1984 issue of Metanoia, the Montgomery High School creative writing magazine. What colour is God? A child with milk mustache asks. Does God have a colour? Is the reply. Mother looks at her young offspring. A loving look met by confused eyes. Is God…
I was cleaning out my fiction and poetry files this weekend in preparation of renewing my efforts and found this weird little poem I wrote on Oct. 16, 1995. In fact, I don’t remember writing it. It’s in my handwriting and I do remember the line about the streamers, but everything else was like reading…
This poem was written after a very stressful week in January 1998. Sitting on the toilet with my underwear on I wet my pants, but didn’t notice because of all the things that had distracted me from pulling down my knickers in the first place. It wasn’t until I went to wipe that I realized…
This poem came out of my grieving process when I lost my Dad in January 2011. Death, for the living, is strange Someone you love is there even if they aren’t a part of your every day life and then Suddenly the world goes “poof!” and they aren’t there anymore just echoes of memories And…
This poem was written circa 1975. I’d forgotten all about it until my mother called me and told me she wanted to read to me a poem written by a 9-year old girl. When she was done, she asked me if I remembered it. I said it sounded familiar … maybe I’d read it on…
I just found this while cleaning out some clutter: Falling, falling, gone The leaf breaks free from the tree My grief consumes me I don’t know when I wrote it, but wanted to make sure I documented it somewhere. Originally posted on 52 Haiku
Another in the series of love poems I wrote in 1988. My love, like the wind, flows through all. My love, like the ocean, encompasses a large expance. My love, like the sun, warms me through and through. My love, like sand, is infinite, or seemingly so. My love, my lover, my everything … where…