{poetry friday & p7: villanelle}

February already. What a long, strange trip its been in 2017. Each day I wake and… function. And feel such empathy for those who have to function in public, especially teachers, who have to shine and smile…but how? Those were the thoughts with which I greeted the second month of the Poetry Sisters’ annual Year […]

{and now for that “perfectly serviceable villanelle”}

I’ve always loved the Navy Hymn, possibly because all the uncles on my mother’s side, plus my Papa, were all insufferably proud Navy men. This poem takes elements of that old prayerful song – allegedly sung onboard the Titanic by the last gents who went down with the ship, and by sea-going soldiers since the […]

{pf: the p7 & the sestina scourge}

Okay, so maybe “scourge” was dramatic, but this, y’all, has been… just about impossible. Don’t get me wrong – every month, I adore the challenge of pitting myself against a poetic form, but the sestina and me… we’ve just never managed to do more than approach a strained détente and limp back to our respective […]

{p7: chaos, edna, and an ekphrastic on a ceiling mural}

There’s a sunflower growing between the slats in my upstairs deck. There’s… I guess dirt there. Decayed pine needles, surely. Mulch made up of all sorts of things. And, with the rain, there’s been enough water for germination. It’s a particularly stupid place to grow, actually. I told this to the plant when it started […]

{a p7 poetry friday: ekphrastic on picasso’s “woman”}

In between episodes of flirting shamelessly with the universe and examining cubism and misplaced ears or whatnot in paintings, Pablo Picasso apparently could not simply hold still. Even while the Nazis were nosing around his studio, he was always busy. Creating. Making. In plaster, metal, wood, bronze — whatever junk came to hand, whatever met […]

{a year in iambs: twelve months, seven sisters}

Emily: …But first: Wait! One more look. Good-bye, Good-bye world. Good-bye, Grover’s Corners….Mama and Papa. Good-bye to clocks ticking….and Mama’s sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new ironed dresses and hot baths….and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you are too wonderful for anybody to realize you. (She looks toward the stage manager and asks […]