Sunnyland Scent
If I could brew a personal fragrance of this morning's air, my perfume would speak to the part of my memory which recollects towhee at the birdfeeder and sweet pine sisken song. Scent memory of grass full of bluebells, tete a tetes, and clover. The smell of garden spade, tomato leaf and butter lettuce. A whiff of family loading dog, canoe and picnic into their panel wagon. Cologne of clucking hens announcing the arrival of warm, brown eggs. Sweet smell of pink and ivory fruit trees dressed in their bridal best. Neighbor scent pushing strollers, drinking coffee, greeting one another with smiling nods. If I could blend a perfume of this morning's air, I would never be alone. By Kathleen McKeever Kathleen is our winner of the first poem booth poetry contest...stop by the poem booth between March 1st and April 25th to see her poem! Congratulations, Kathleen!
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Poem Booth
Hello. Welcome. Congratulations on your willingness to still yourself and listen, to tune your attention outward to another and allow these syllables, fricatives and sonorants, to wild through you, flutter like butterflies on a migration path to Mexico. Or to music. Or mathematics. Or the moon’s silver surface. You’ve no idea, exactly, where these words will lead, down which library aisle, or asylum hall. Congratulations on your bravery, for stepping into this poem booth, this street-side sanctuary, this sky-blue room, this quiet corner of pause. By Dayna Patterson Dayna is our runner up for the first poem booth poetry contest. Congratulations, Dayna! You can read more about her work at: www.psalteryandlyre.org. Crescendo
Dusky mute Reluctant warrior Disturbing peace Listen to yourself Wrap me in your joke I have read the map I have heard the footprints I have tasted the snowfall It is not as far as you may think It is much farther than we will know 22 stones have dropped on the trail I only counted 17 In the noise springs forth the solitude that I await Don`t applaud Don`t repeat Open slowly there It`s yours. By Diana Swan Diana's poem received an honorable mention in our first poem booth poetry contest - congratulations, Diana! Overseas Call to the Riverbank
Turtle, I am calling you through the sky because I miss your dirt-dull back and brackish gaze, the slimy weeds you eat and the oak tea you drink-- your slow river and mine, sage Painted. Tell me how you gauge the sky you see: how is my vault and refuge, have you laid new generations in my native mud, are you warm enough to move, do you think the future holds ripe cherries and bright wings? By Sarah Brownsberger Sarah's poem received an honorable mention in our first poem booth poetry contest - congratulations, Sarah! |