sharing a poetic LIFELINE with the world

Archive for the ‘Introductions’ Category

Michele’s Musings

Turning Over Rocks

“Why be difficult
when you can always
be impossible?”

My family’s motto,
when I was growing up.

We lived in clouds,
ephemeral universe
All or nothing mind-set
badgered us into paralyzing inaction,
circular conundrums,
promises meant to stop questions,
not solve problem

“Don’t answer the phone!” admonitions
when I was home alone, sick,
escaping whatever had me
in its grip that day or week

Blame and shame
games and names
hiding in books read
by shadowed night-light
to tame the monsters
lurking under my bed,
in the closet,
beyond the toys
strewn across the floor
beyond the closed door
to my personal space and mind

Child of parents
whose fractured worlds
never resolved enough to give them
strength to shelter their offspring
the way this one needed

But I was loved
and encouraged to dream big,
reach beyond what was,
by my father
live his words
not the life we had

I gained my own,
tiny shard by shard
years later, loved,
protected, cherished,
with someone who believes in me,
loves me
without needing to understand
more than he does

learn to trust,
push past fears, worries
I’ll never be enough, do enough,
justify my own existence

Learn I have to prove
nothing to the world.
I have the right just to be,
eclectic, whimsical,
inconsistent entity
in love
with my life
as I inch
toward myself

Ⓒ Michele M. Graf
11-7-11

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Kristen

My name is Kristen Howe

I’m 35, a former Jersey girl, and now a resident of Ohio for 11 years. I’ve published poems online and in print; published some nonfiction articles, too.

I’m currently shopping two manuscripts, hoping to land an agent by the end of the year, and a pub deal in 2012. I’m editing a few manuscripts now and doing Nano for my 4th year.

Kristen Howe

posted by poeticmuseling1 for Kristen Howe

Lines by Lin

I Wouldn’t Trade It

Tall geeky-girl brunette whose lungs don’t work well,
Refuses to see the end of the road
Southern accent trills Edna St. Vincent Millay,
Shoots coffee out her nose with Billy Collins,
Haunted by Greek mythology, Lonesome Dove,
Prince of Tides.

Not just literature and poetry saturate my heart and soul —
Anything to do with art, music, and my Nature mother
Real life too, my yen for chocolates and Riesling wine
Timeless hours with kin and friends and sanctified solitude
Sweet incense of lavender wands
Perky daffodils boldly yellow,
While on a table sits Quan Yin
Contented with  crucifixes and candles,
My floured hands punching down sourdough bread
In another room.

Later, dog and  cat invade my bed, which will leave me
Clinging awkwardly to the edge
But it’s all good.

©2011 Lin Neiswender

 

Introducing Anne

Anne Westlund

Poetic Medicine

 
The songs of Frank Sinatra and U2
The dust off well-loved books
Flowers, fresh or nearly faded
Intimacies, profane and mundane
Words, sharp or soft or awkward
Charts, needles, leather, and locked doors
The spirit of poets past
Teenage loneliness and lost loves
Dreams, a stable full, and a day at the races
Chinese meals and Italian delicacies
Butt-numbing classes of classics
Indie films and MGM spectacles

That’s what my poems
are made of

©  Anne Westlund

Introducing Margaret

Margaret Fieland

Green on Thursdays

Where I was born, the world ended
at the Hudson River
and Sixth Avenue
was still one block west of Fifth.

In my neighborhood
you never wore orange on Saint Patrick’s day,
never mind if you weren’t Irish.

Better to wear green,
unless it fell on a Thursday,
because then they might think you were,
you know,
one of Them.

Maybe I’ll just wear blue.

Meeting Mary

More Than What You See

“The man is only half himself, the other half is his expression”
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

I am only half what you see –
you can’t learn all from a picture;
yes, you see my hair is blonde,
my eyes are blue,
perhaps estimate my height…
but my fair skin and features are not all
that make me who I am.

I am thoughts, ideas,
creations, emotions,
memories.

I am tears –
let loose so easily
but making me strong not soft.

I am survivor –
wrought in the fire
to strengthen my faith.

I am chiaroscuro –
not all light or dark alone
but the contrast and shadows they create.

I am love –
wrapped gently
around my husband and my son.

I am seeds –
blown from a dandelion
swept up by the air in flight.

I am words –
brewing inside of me
are ideas that will form poems and stories.

I am me –
take me or reject me,
but you cannot change me.

 

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