Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Photo: Daylily

Friday, July 5, 2019

Daylily
Photo by Wayne Pridemore


Pictures

of summer-

on screen arouse

a daylily dream as

I browse


by Brian Strand



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Poem: Carl the Crow

Monday, June 24, 2019

Carl the Crow
Photo by Peggy Bartleson

Carl the Crow
by Jean Monce Bryant


Oh Carl the Crow- what a cute funny guy
He exited the nest when not able to fly
His parents are nearby-they're armed and they're ready
So predators BEWARE--their surveillance is steady

They feed Carl often--his demands will not quit
He'll squawk and he'll CAW till he gets every bit
As Providers and Security there's no time to sleep
They'll answer each call--even one tiny peep

With hawks, owls and raccoons and eagles as well
The dangers are many--I think you can tell
And neighborhood cats also can pose a threat
The parents relax???No, no time for that yet

If baby, though noisy, can hide from their view
His chance for survival's much better it's true
If one of his siblings has left the nest too
The parents' duties are doubled--for them I'll say "WHEW"

But any good parent--though tired and worn-out
Will come Wide-Awake at a peep or a shout
So thank you for babies--and parents as well
Their love and devotion it truly is swell

Carl will be growing his tail feathers soon
And then he can fly and head straight for the moon
He's patiently waiting for them to arrive
With rudders on board--he can fly and survive


See previous article about Carl the Crow



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Shoreline resident's third book of poetry available June 15

Wednesday, June 12, 2019

With honest and soul-searching vulnerability, James B. Moore’s Open Heart Chronicles explores the arc of the author’s lived experiences and offers the story of one man’s gradual shift through the many stages of maturity. 

In his third poetry collection, Moore presents narrative poems that take readers on a journey throughout his childhood into the present day.

The work in Moore’s latest collection centers on matters of the heart. Some poems meditate on the loving, supportive partnership Moore has built with his wife.

Others explore Moore’s gradual realization that life contains moments and experiences which transcend the physical.

And, in a literal interpretation of the title, Moore writes candidly and humorously about his experiences with a life-threatening cardiac illness. 

Medical professionals have found his descriptions of the power of the healing arts particularly meaningful.

Throughout Open Heart Chronicles, Moore offers readers powerful meditations on his journey of living while dying. Unafraid to confront the reality of death, Moore’s poems speak to a man’s decision to embrace the life he has been given before the inevitable end.

Shoreline resident James B. Moore
Open Heart Chronicles follows Moore’s poetry collection Spirit Unchained (Chatwin Books, 2015).

James B. Moore has been a musician, merchant marine seaman, high school English teacher, and counselor. Currently, he divides his time between psychotherapy and writing. He lives in Shoreline with his wife, Esther Andrews-Moore. This is his third book of poetry.

Book Details

Forthcoming: June 15, 2019
Paperback
ISBN: 9781633980945
94 Pages • $16.00 • Trade
Available: Baker and Taylor, Ingram, Direct from Publisher

In poetry that centers on matters of the heart, Moore delves into the arc of his lived experiences and tells the story of a man’s gradual shift through the many stages of maturity.

"nine lives"

I’m like an alley cat
who has lived most of his
nine lives

there’s freedom
in knowing the
end is near

life feels more real
when any moment
might be my last

I don’t fear
what awaits
or what comes next

curiosity does not kill this cat
I can smell
the scent of something more




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Poem: Lake Forest Park Water

Saturday, March 30, 2019


Lake Forest Park Water

Lake Forest Park Water
It passed the Big Test
We ALL could have told you
That it is THE BEST

We've known from the start
That it was the Right Brew
A true gift from Nature
And ARTESIAN too

We knew it was "PREMIUM"
From the very first Swill
Once you've tasted it's MAGIC
You can't get your fill

So let's raise a glass
In a fitting Tribute
To this Great Water District
Here's our Lofty Salute


Jean Monce Bryant ( a dedicated imbiber)




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Poetry: My Tiny Hero's Original Story

Thursday, March 28, 2019

2nd grader Calvin Nguyen and his Tiny Hero
-- his baby sister
Photo courtesy Shoreline PTA Council


My Tiny Hero’s Original Story by Calvin Nguyen

My tiny hero does not fly.
My tiny hero does not wear a cape.
My tiny hero does not have a disguised name.
My tiny hero does not fight crimes.
My tiny hero does not have enemies.
My tiny hero does not have super powers.

Almost six months ago, 
I met this tiny hero of mine through her kicks and punches.
She was in my mom’s belly.
Every night I read to her and kissed her goodnight.

A month ago, I finally met this tiny hero of mine.
She came into this world and became my sunshine.
Her smiles make me smile.
Her coos make me happy.

My tiny hero brings joy.
My tiny hero wears mittens.
My tiny hero has a real name.
My tiny hero battles germs.
My tiny hero has lots of doctors.
My tiny hero has a different heartbeat, 
                                                            Swoosh-oosh-oosh, not like your and mine.

My tiny hero will be strong in her surgery.
My tiny hero’s heart will heal.

I love my tiny hero.
It’s my baby sister!


Calvin Nguyen, a second grader at Lake Forest Park Elementary, is a first place winner in his age group for the State PTA Reflections contest. The theme was Heros.

His poem is one of 27 arts submissions that will be sent to the PTA national competition and expo in Columbus, Ohio in June. (See previous article)



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Photo: Poem: Crocuses

Monday, March 25, 2019



The Crocuses

"Soon a host of lovely flowers
From vales and woodland burst;
But in all that fair procession
The crocuses were first."


From: The Crocuses by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, 1825-1911



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Poem: Welcome Spring

Sunday, March 24, 2019

Photo by Cynthia Sheridan


Welcome Spring 

Welcome Spring from winter sleep 

Beneath the soil buried deep 

Greetings bud and new green leaf 

From grey and gloom you bring relief 

Hello to color bursting ‘bout 

As blossoms make their coming out 

Just like you sweet newborn lamb 

And chirping nest, how glad I am 

To welcome spring 


Cynthia Sheridan 



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Poem: Goldie the Cat

Saturday, March 2, 2019



Goldie the Cat

This is the story of a cat named Goldie

An adoptable pet but in no way an oldie

Living in a room full of cats by the ton

When in came a lady just looking for one

She brought along a carrier with the door open wide

She admired all the cats but she couldn’t decide

Meanwhile Goldie made a choice of his own

He hopped in the carrier and the lady took him home

From the moment Goldie dared to leap thru that door

He had found a home that would last forever more


--By Cynthia Sheridan



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Shorecrest student's poem goes to state PTA Reflections contest in Special Artist category

Monday, January 14, 2019

JJ and Veronica dressed as super heroes
at school shortly after JJ wrote the poem
Jerimiah "JJ" Johnson is a student of Veronica Cook from the Shorecrest A-team - a program for students with significant Autism.

The poem he entered in the PTA Reflections contest is headed to the state competition in the Washington State PTA Reflections Finals for the 106th WSPTA Convention, which will be held April 26-28 at the SeaTac Hilton Convention Center.

JJ is Shoreline’s first entry into the WAPTA Special Artist category.

The theme for this year's Reflections contact is "Heroes Around Me."
Example of Super Keys,
the app JJ uses to type with.

JJ, a non-verbal student, typed a poem about his teacher Veronica Cook using his district iPad and the assistive technology that is provided for him to be successful in communicating.

JJ and his ribbon from the Shoreline
Reflections competition
He uses a program called Super Keys to allow him to target the letters better.

When JJ started out at Shorecrest, Veronica was told he had no communication. 

She quickly learned that this was not the case and worked with his family to advance the communication he had and to encourage him to use it as much as possible.

Now JJ is an award winning poet. 

JJ was given the theme for the title of his poem and wrote this:


Hero Around Me
by JJ Johnson

You are the hero around me

You take care of all of your students

You kind and tough

You are a super teacher

I work hard because of you

You are my hero

You are my friend


Veronica said, "JJ is an inspiration to all the staff in the A-team classroom and I hope he is an inspiration to all of you too."


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Haiku :Photo Raindrops

Saturday, January 12, 2019

Photo by LT Titus Photography



                                            Strung like crystal beads
         
                                                        Rain drops drip from bare branches, 

                                                Brightening grey days.


--Haiku by Jeanette H. Paulsen


 

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Poem: The Little Red Car

Tuesday, January 1, 2019


The Little Red Car

Driving down the freeway, traffic in a jam.
I‘m calm, yet on the look-out, doing what I can

Lanes keep disappearing, cars begin to slow. 
I’m trying to move over; will someone let me go?

A red car, right behind me, gives a little toot. 
Quickly I scoot over, with more cars in pursuit

But my new lane disappears and I can’t get in. 
Look who’s there to help: the red car once again.

Traffic’s getting thicker. Oh, my exit’s here. 
Can’t believe my eyes, but in the rear-view mirror,

Once more on this freeway, the red car makes a space. 
Quickly, I zip over. Down the ramp we race

The red car right behind me, its driver wears a grin. 
A friendly wave, a little honk and off we go again.

In the middle of a freeway somehow we connected. 
It really made my day, such kindness unexpected.

Now there’s a toy car on my dresser, painted shiny red, 
just like the picture of the car that’s in my head.

Always it reminds me, when I see it every day: 
Make some room for others. Help them find their way.

By Cynthia Sheridan



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Poem: The Real True Story of Little Boy Blue

Wednesday, December 26, 2018

Napping goats
Photo by Earthcraft Farms


Christmas Moon
(or The Real True Story of Little Boy Blue)

Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn. The sheep’s in the meadow, the cows in the corn. Where’s the little boy who looks after the sheep? He’s under the haystack fast asleep.


T’was a magically moonlit, late Christmas Eve, yet the sheep in the meadow were feeling quite peeved 
The cattle were lowing, which was alright, but the ewes couldn’t sleep. The moon was too bright
So they noisily moved to the shade in the corn, causing the cattle much anger and scorn
Soon off to the barn, the whole cow herd sped, waking the horse in his stall, in his bed
He bolted and galloped all over the place, then bunked with the goats, leaving no space
The disgruntled goats joined the pigs in their sty, and the pigs busted out to the hen’s yard, oh my!
Next, Old Mother Hen toppled off of her roost, giving Bossy the cow a bit of a boost
At this point everyone in the barn was awake, so down to the meadow they went in great haste
What was the problem with those crazy sheep? Didn’t they realize no one could sleep?
When they got to the meadow, the sheep were not there, sending the animals into despair
Where are our friends? Not asleep in their bed? There’s coyotes about, we hope they’re not … dead?
When suddenly someone heard a small bleat and moved to the cornfield, where laid the sheep
So happy to see them alive, in the end, the animals knew that they loved their dear friends
Whatever their differences, big ones or small, they realized those things didn’t matter at all
Happy and joyful, they danced by the moon, as the Billy Boy Blues Band played a fine tune
And the very last thing that was heard - from the sheep, “Merry Christmas to all and to all a good sleep”
As for dear Billy, around noon the next day, he was found still asleep in the barn in the hay
                                       
   prosies@cynthia sheridan



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Poem: The Very Last Leaf

Sunday, November 18, 2018

Photo by Rob Oxford

The Very Last Leaf - Rob Oxford

I'll be the very last leaf on this tree yet to fall
I'm the very last leaf I've outlasted them all
Hanging on tight to this branch with no hands
I'm determined to stay here as long as I can
All of my brothers lost their grip long ago
Along with my sisters they're now scattered below
Soon I too will grow tired and my stem will get weak
But I'm still the last one that's what makes me unique
Then Dad will come out and he'll roll up his sleeves
And he'll rake and he'll rake and make piles of us leaves
Then we'll be back together like we were way up high
Until we get scattered by some truck that speeds by
But Dad will just laugh and start raking some more
Like he does every year 'til his arms become sore
And then when he's done and us leaves are knee deep
He'll call to his kids and they'll all take a leap



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Three free literary events in October

Wednesday, September 19, 2018

2017 conference attendee chats with speaker Windy Lynn Harris
at annual WOTS Book Signing Reception
Photo by Shannon Black Creative


Write on the Sound (WOTS) writers’ conference is sold out, however, there are three events associated with the conference that are free admission and open to the public.

Evening of Poetry
The first is an evening of poetry with Washington State Poet Laureate Claudia Castro Luna and local poets Gerald Bigelow and John Wright, Friday, October 5th, 5:00 - 5:45pm, at the Edmonds Library, 650 Main St.

Claudia Castro Luna served as Seattle’s Civic Poet from 2015-2017 and is the author of the Pushcart nominated Killing MarĂ­as and This City and is the creator of the acclaimed Seattle Poetic Grid. Born in El Salvador, she came to the United States in 1981. She has an MA in Urban Planning, a teaching certificate and an MFA in poetry.

Claudia is joined by local poets Gerald Bigelow, who leads the local EPIC Group Writers poetry group, and John Wright. Light refreshments provided. For more information call 425-771-1933, see the library webpage.

Book signing reception
The WOTS Book Signing Reception on Saturday October 6th, 5:15 – 6:30pm in the Plaza Room, 650 Main St (above the library), is also a free-admission public event. It’s a great opportunity to mingle and chat books and writing with conference speakers and attendees, as well as explore the on site Edmonds Bookshop. Enjoy light refreshments and the stunning view of the Puget Sound from the Plaza Room patio.

The conference reception is presented by the City of Edmonds Arts Commission with generous support from Windermere Real Estate Edmonds. For a list of speakers and presenters and links to their websites, go to the conference webpage.

Open Mic night
After the Booking Signing Reception, head to downtown Edmonds to Café Louvre for Open Mic Night. Enjoy hearing WOTS conference attendees and presenters read five minutes each from their fiction, nonfiction and poetry. The event is open to the public, 6:30 - 7:30pm. Café Louvre is located at 210 5th Ave S.

For more information on all three programs, call the Edmonds Arts Commission office at 425-771-0228.



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A poem by An Attorney Sticking Up For Maligned Brown Bears

Saturday, July 28, 2018

Photo by Wayne Pridemore in Alaska


There are poems

About Brown Bears

-walking on two feet-

-eating cookies-


There are scenes:

A murderous Brown Bear

Devouring little girls

With pony tails

And flowered dresses.

Photo by Wayne Pridemore in Alaska


These poems are bad

Bad for Brown Bears

Bad for their character

Bad for their reputation

Brown Bears resent

"Brown Bear " poems.

Photo by Wayne Pridemore in Alaska


Brown Bears are easy going

But they feel they are 

Unjustly maligned

And they peacefully ask 

For retribution.



Yours truly,

Brown Bears by Frank Broderick 1979



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Poem: Photo The Dig

Wednesday, July 18, 2018

Photo copyright Marc Weinberg


THE DIG


The day's light glances hot off the earth
and glints from picks and shovels
as we spade and screen, brush, pencil
and string collections of objects
flower-pressed in the pages of time while
even the stars have changed.

A journey of a few feet down and
a few thousand years back, mapped
read and recorded in forensic detail.
Forgotten bits and fragments fingered awake
from their cool sleep to the cauldron
of the midday glare are caressed
by the gaze of today's endeavor.

And now when day is done and
a swarm of aches and pains plagues us,
a molten sun pours itself into night where
I will sift and sort the middens of my mind.

--Vicki Westberg



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Poem - Photo - When It's Raining

Tuesday, June 12, 2018

Rain
Photo copyright Marc Weinberg


When It's Raining by Rob Oxford

The world’s a different place when it’s raining
Can you tell from outer space that it’s raining?
Sometimes a race is "called" because it’s raining
But some games can still be played when it’s raining
(Like Checkers and Chess)

Worms will stick their necks out when it's raining
But then birds have them for lunch when it's raining
Puddles can be jumped in when it's raining
That’s why Moms get a bit cross when it's raining

Squirrels will run across your yard when it's raining
But have trouble dodging cars when it’s raining
You can stay dry but it's hard when it's raining
It just depends on where you are when it’s raining

The rain makes funny sounds when it's raining
It kind of ricochets off the ground when it’s raining
For 40 Days and 40 Nights it kept on raining
But in the rain, Marines still train when it’s raining

My Dad said the fish like to bite when it’s raining
But when they don’t, let me tell you it gets boring
It’s hard to fly a kite when it’s raining
Because you can’t look up into the sky when it’s raining

There are big drops, there are small drops 
And a rainbow when the rain stops
But I like the rain

And I like what it brings 
Because I know that it brings

New life to things



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Photo: Poem Tiny birds

Friday, May 25, 2018

Photo by Wayne Pridemore


Tiny poems for tiny birds by Larry Gates  1998

a thousand facets of metallic light
    turning his head
        he darkens.

   a thousands nows
the busy hummingbird
    in the garden



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Photo: Iris, most beautiful of flower...

Saturday, May 19, 2018

Photo by Wayne Pridemore

Iris, most beautiful of flower 
by Edith Edwards 1961 


Iris, most beautiful of flower,

Symbol of life, love, and light;

Found by the brook, and the meadow,

Or lofty, on arable height.

You come in such glorious colors,

In hues the rainbow surpass.

Photo by Wayne Pridemore

And one more...

Photo by Wayne Pridemore


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Poem in honor of Earth Day - Dirt

Saturday, April 21, 2018

Market basket photo by Valerie Craig
        
ODE TO DIRT
                                   (Inspired by WDR)  

Dirt! Dirt! Marvelous Dirt!

What would we do if dirt were dearth?
On this lovely green home – our glorious earth?

Would there be trees or swarms of bees?

Or birds that sing in the morning breeze?
And where would snowflakes land in a freeze?

And would we have fruits ever so sweet 

Apples, peaches, and cherries to eat? 
From which we make pies that are a real treat?

And what about vegetables of all shapes and sizes

Including pumpkins of such astounding sizes
That at county fairs they win blue ribbon prizes?

Could we even breathe if dirt were dearth?

Or ever laugh with joy and mirth
As we enjoy foods that expand our girth?

What about wiggly worms - so like small sperms

Crawling through the ground, out of sight and sound -
Enriching the soil by the inch and pound?

This dirt of all kinds, from light sand to dark loam

Provides all seeds with a snug and safe home
In spring’s sunlight these bloom, banishing gloom.

When we think about dirt – all the goodness it brings

That allows us to stand as tall as kings
Holding us down so we don’t need wings.

So consider a planet without dirt under our feet.

Hard to imagine anything so sweet
With so many benefits – an amazing feat.

So here’s to dirt that keeps us alive!

Without which we could never survive, 
That allows us all to happily thrive.

Let’s have it for dirt! Let’s raise a toast -

And even to boast -
Because dirt’s truly the most.


Gini Paulsen
Shoreline, WA




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