the bell jar

She stepped upon the windowpane
and gently spread her wings again
A leap of faith and off she flew
leaving all that she once knew
Should have done this years ago
valleys curve and run below
Mountains etched upon the sky
she always did know how to fly
She let her soul out of the jar
spirits carried her afar
Orange tipped and powdered wing
sensitive to everything


Olive Riley

Saturday, a special soul was called home to her maker. Someone I was proud to call friend. Olive Riley, I will always treasure you...




Why Poetry Matters...

Someone posted a link to the site of Denise Low, Kansas poet. I can't recall at the moment which blog it was. I'd like to give them credit. She posted an article written by Jay Parini, that I thought was exceptional. I think it is a 'must read' for every poet...

Why Poetry Matters


He's Mine

She sits beside herself
knitting a shroud of worry
The news sprang out of nowhere
From his lips to Mothers ears
Enlist? When? Why?
Let's talk about this son
You've already decided?
Please at least wait until November
so we can maybe get an idea of..
..there's a war going on son...
..you are a grown man now son, and..
...we support you...we love you..we need you
Her heart is a lump in her throat
It will remain lodged there keeping
the taste of coppery fear in her mouth
and fresh in her mind
How can this be?
We talk about this war around the dinner table
almost every night
She wants to run in the streets SHOUTING..
NO! You can't have him!! He's Mine!!

He's Mine

*hes mine*