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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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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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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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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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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, May 1, 2012
These poems do not live: it's a sad diagnosis.
They grew their toes and fingers well enough,
Their little foreheads bulged with concentration.
If they missed out on walking about like people
It wasn't for any lack of mother-love.
O I cannot explain what happened to them!
They are proper in shape and number and every part.
They sit so nicely in the pickling fluid!
They smile and smile and smile at me.
And still the lungs won't fill and the heart won't start.
They are not pigs, they are not even fish,
Though they have a piggy and a fishy air --
It would be better if they were alive, and that's what they were.
But they are dead, and their mother near dead with distraction,
And they stupidly stare and do not speak of her.
They grew their toes and fingers well enough,
Their little foreheads bulged with concentration.
If they missed out on walking about like people
It wasn't for any lack of mother-love.
O I cannot explain what happened to them!
They are proper in shape and number and every part.
They sit so nicely in the pickling fluid!
They smile and smile and smile at me.
And still the lungs won't fill and the heart won't start.
They are not pigs, they are not even fish,
Though they have a piggy and a fishy air --
It would be better if they were alive, and that's what they were.
But they are dead, and their mother near dead with distraction,
And they stupidly stare and do not speak of her.
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