Tag Archives | poetry and art

Garrowby Hill

Garrowby Hill Down from the hills the purple road flows twisting and leaping like a girl who has a new twirl dress down into the patchwork valley between fields fearfully tiger-striped with new-plowed furrows and the rows of sentinel trees standing at attention with their red boles and green canopy that line the roadside and […]

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Motherhood

Motherhood The way the mother’s fingers lift and squish her breast to help the baby latch. The way the baby’s hand clutches his mother’s finger as he nurses. The way the baby’s eye looks up, trustingly, at his mother’s face. The way the mother looks down at him, tender and absorbed, meeting his eye. The […]

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Mother and Child

Mother and Child 
I
 In the red cradle she is finally asleep— innocent, serene— as if she’s always been. The hand clutching the cradle tells a different story, resting, limp, protective, above the upturned head.
 The baby now quiet, 
mother has slipped into dark, grey forgetfulness.

 Her head rested— just for a minute— on the […]

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Translation Blues (Ekphrastic Challenge)

  Ekphrasis: “Description” in Greek. An ekphrastic poem is a vivid description of a scene or, more commonly, a work of art. Through the imaginative act of narrating and reflecting on the “action” of a painting or sculpture, the poet may amplify and expand its meaning. A notable example is “Ode on a Grecian Urn,” […]

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Little Brother

Little Brother In the late afternoon the blue room fills with languid light. Three little girls stand round while in Mother’s arms the new baby stills his little cries, that new strange squalling sound. Mother gazes down at her well-wrapped son He’s in pink, as is she, warm, strong color of rosy cheeks and cats’ […]

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Room in Brooklyn

Room in Brooklyn High above the world, where the street sounds can’t hardly reach, her window with its lopsided shades looks over the rooftops where the clustered chimneys gaze back at the woman who sits so cozy in her wooden chair, now looking at her book now out at the ranks of windows, the red […]

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Winter’s Night in the Mountains

Winter’s Night in the Mountains Just after sunset the sky is the perfect shade of heart-aching blue that you only see when the firmament yearns between daylight and dark. There isn’t a word for that color. And in the sky a silver star blazes heraldic between the two white peaks— (Or perhaps it’s a sliver […]

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Wrestling with the Angel

Wrestling with the Angel When I was ten (or was I six? or eight?) I had an infection in my right hip. Walking was agony, the joint inflamed. It was long ago, but I remember struggling to limp across the yard, stiff-legged in my plaid school jumper. Ever since, that joint has periodically rebelled— either […]

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Mother Thoughts

Mother Thoughts She’s wrapped the quilt, red and white, about her shoulders and around the baby too. Snug in their nest, her mind’s adrift— forgotten her book, the painter, his brush. Forgotten the flowers and the little hands that collected them from the garden this morning and put them in the vase. Forgotten… voices calling, […]

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The Ball

The Ball On summer afternoons the park shimmers where trees cast silent shadow symphonies across the grass and gravel. Her own shadow races ahead to grasp the ball before she can scoop it up, already sun-warm, in her hot hands. Her white pinafore flaps behind like angel wings. Her hair streams from beneath her straw […]

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