Sunday, December 20, 2009

Poetry Train: Comma


Life’s paragraphs
build up
one after another

with the constant
patter of computer
keys typing

word after word
until pages
fill up and turn

and we never
stop to catch
our breath.

Then you called
with the news
of a second grandchild

on the way,
just a comma,
now, but enough

to make us pause
and think about
the future

and smile.

Sunday Scribblings: Dare

It's crazy hectic this week with holidays, travel plans, and school (We have to go through Wed.!) so I'm reposting a poem from two years ago that I wrote for 3WW.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was Kathy’s idea.
I was two years younger
so she was the thinker
and I was the doer.

On our way home
from grammar school
one day
she challenged me
to run
right in front
of a moving train.

It was a warm
September afternoon
and the sun
was a shawl
on our shoulders
as we waited
for the St. Lawrence
and Atlantic Railroad
to make it’s
slice through
our neighborhood.

We competed
like tightrope walkers
to see who could walk
the farthest
on the rails
through our feet
alerting us to the arrival
of the train.

I waited
until that engine
grew bigger
and bigger
then I dashed
the ties
and tracks.


An extra moment’s
and I would have met
icy death.

Afterwards, we continued
home, our shadows
walking ahead of us
and I wondered
when had mine grown
longer than hers?

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Lithe, Grave, Offend for 3WW

The lithe snowflakes twirl
in the sad, offending wind~
I fall on his grave.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Weird for Sunday Scribblings

I walked out
onto the snow-covered
porch this morning
in my slippers
and PJs
to take a picture
of the moon

just before it slipped
behind the elephant
shape of Mt. Forist.

During the summer
I bike to the beach
and sit among
all the sunbathers
with my clothes
on and a book
or pencil
in my hands.

When I read
the poem-of-the-day
to my students,
I wait until
everyone is still
and they all have
a copy of the poem
on their desks
to follow along with.

If even one kid
reaches into her purse
or closes his notebook,
I stop reading
and wait…
while the other kids
shift their eyes
but not their heads
to see the offending

I walk
in the black silkiness
of night
when the stars
form a map
for my thoughts
and the moon
is a nugget of poetry
that feels like a heart
Linda's Poems