-
Poetry Club's prompt for October 19 (issued a week before) was to write a "Next Time" poem. As in: what would you do differen...
-
In case you are unaware, there is now a poetry club at the Benton center! They meet every Thursday from 5:30-6:30 in the conference room, w...
-
Another excellent meeting of the Poetry Club at LBCC happened on Tuesday October 26. We read our poems related to the assignment: Friends...
-
The prompt for poems to write by November 16 is the line: "this is what it is like. Or what it is like in words." from the followi...
-
by Mary Oliver Who made the world? Who made the swan, and the black bear? Who made the grasshopper? This grasshopper, I mean— the one ...
-
Chocolate tastes sweet, creamy, and rich, Slightly bitter, nutty, waxy, earthy, melty. At least, that's how it tastes in words. But t...
-
From the Corvallis-Gazette Times: "Writer Nick Flynn will read from his work on Friday, Oct. 11, at Oregon State Universi...
-
.gif)
My apologies for being a bit absent on this blog lately! There's been plenty going on, of course. Last Friday we had our second successf... -
Hello all! Welcome back to a whole new school year! What does a new school year incite within us? Change, Beauty, Happiness, Grievance... -
Another review is written of the Poetry Club meeting: This one is from Kristen -- Quiet chatter amongst two men fill the gap that is nor...
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Childhood Revisited
Somewhere in the quiet places,
Silenced by the years,
She lives. I am thinking of her.
She stares at me with longing, dare I look?
Hair, thin and brown, blowing about,
Eyes begging that I remember.
And I am happy to see her. Or wait, shall
I say that I am sad?
I swallow hard, breath deep and close my eyes.
Trembling, I reach across time to find myself.
Our tears and dreams entangle, and we, alas, are one,
as we should be. For I cannot live without her,
And this is what it is like. Or what it is like in words.
rk
Somewhere in the quiet places,
Silenced by the years,
She lives. I am thinking of her.
She stares at me with longing, dare I look?
Hair, thin and brown, blowing about,
Eyes begging that I remember.
And I am happy to see her. Or wait, shall
I say that I am sad?
I swallow hard, breath deep and close my eyes.
Trembling, I reach across time to find myself.
Our tears and dreams entangle, and we, alas, are one,
as we should be. For I cannot live without her,
And this is what it is like. Or what it is like in words.
rk
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 comments:
Post a Comment