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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...
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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...
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Another excellent meeting of the Poetry Club at LBCC happened on Tuesday October 26. We read our poems related to the assignment: Friends...
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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...
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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 ...
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Chocolate tastes sweet, creamy, and rich, Slightly bitter, nutty, waxy, earthy, melty. At least, that's how it tastes in words. But t...
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From the Corvallis-Gazette Times: "Writer Nick Flynn will read from his work on Friday, Oct. 11, at Oregon State Universi...
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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...
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
By W
Blackberry brambles
Such uncomfortable places.
Prickly, stickled, webbing in wings
Not letting them out.
To be picked is just another
Way of saying chosen.
There remains in all hearts
A honey drunk awe of it.
You who hibernate coolness,
Your day shall come.
So still for it, wait for it
To rest is, after all, one of many ways to praise.
Someday—yes—
It
Will
Find
You.
That growing warmth of ripened grace
When you know in each wondering burst
Of your body that your time has come
At last.
--------------------
This poem is our submission to the Commuter this week.
Blackberry brambles
Such uncomfortable places.
Prickly, stickled, webbing in wings
Not letting them out.
To be picked is just another
Way of saying chosen.
There remains in all hearts
A honey drunk awe of it.
You who hibernate coolness,
Your day shall come.
So still for it, wait for it
To rest is, after all, one of many ways to praise.
Someday—yes—
It
Will
Find
You.
That growing warmth of ripened grace
When you know in each wondering burst
Of your body that your time has come
At last.
--------------------
This poem is our submission to the Commuter this week.
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