Author Archive | Melanie Bettinelli

On Trying to Write Formal Poetry

I will put Chaos into fourteen lines And keep him there; and let him thence escape If he be lucky; let him twist, and ape Flood, fire, and demon — his adroit designs Will strain to nothing in the strict confines Of this sweet order, where, in pious rape, I hold his essence and amorphous […]

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As a mother comforts her son

“Oh that you may suck fully of the milk of her comfort That you may nurse with delight at her abundant breasts! . . . As nurslings you shall be carried in her arms, and fondled in her lap; as a mother comforts her son, so I will comfort you; in Jerusalem you shall find […]

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From the fullness of the heart the mouth speaks

A few disconnected observations from today’s (Sunday’s) first reading. 
Sirach 27:4-7 Today’s first reading from Sirach presents a series of images which illustrate something about the nature of speech and something about trials and tests. Each image has a slightly different emphasis so that the overall point of them all together is somehow greater than […]

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Book Notes: Craeft by Alexander Langlands

But even in today’s versatile use of the word craft there is only the faintest overlap with the definition craeft had when it first appeared in written English over a thousand years ago. The Oxford English Dictionary can find no one word to exchange like for like, for Old English craeft, and instead offers an […]

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Dull February

Dull February seeps away in cold homebound days, each one much like the other, dreary sameness of earth and sky besieged by dread and dim and snow that turns to rain. One sickness after another, dripping noses and coughs, prednisone and albuterol snipping hearts and snapping tempers until finally the waxing moon raises her full […]

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Anthony Turns Eight

I used to write a reflective blog post for every kid’s birthday. But after a while it started to feel more like an obligation than a chance to reflect and ponder and celebrate. And I felt kind of guilty if I wrote one for one child and not for another. Silly, I suppose. I’m super-sensitive […]

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Trees, Sky

The way a small blue eye Winks at me from between The tree’s thick trunks, A sliver of wintry sky Among the branches, whose keen Edges slice the blue like monks’ Chants tearing silence’s veil; Like a line of lace Across the world’s wail, Keeping sky and land firmly, Each in its place.

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