
A poem, to honor America’s heroes, the men in the military
Poem printed in the Southside Messanger on May 29, 2018
A 22 page poem about America’s wars and the men who left home to fight them.
A poem, to honor America’s heroes, the men in the military
Poem printed in the Southside Messanger on May 29, 2018
A 22 page poem about America’s wars and the men who left home to fight them.
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the blue pitcher
arlene s bice
beads, bangles & bubbles are pretty
the words just right can be witty
a pitcher of blue glass caught my eye
to sit on my table alongside the pie
not enough to look good, but be useful
empty it is worthless, so it will be juiceful.
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Leaving at 17 to Get Married
arlene s bice
I leave behind my girlish bedroom,
all pink and burgundy,
but no frilliness, never was a frilly girl.
I take with me the memory of a little girl \
sleeping/hiding behind a big Panda Bear.
I leave behind the bed of my youth,
where I dreamed my dreams,
crying out in the night, because it was scary.
I take with me memories of measles, medicine,
junket and a small green plastic radio.
I leave behind my boudoir chair,
maple bones sticking out,
here and there, a great reading chair.
I take with me the memory of re-dressing it
with wine-colored cotton stripes.
I leave behind my closet full,
out-grown styles worn,
in high school, wool plaids/tight sweaters.
I take with me the memory of pretty, silver,
feathered mules, impossible to walk in.
I leave behind my bureau,
the mirror adorned with cards,
and dried corsages, from high school dances.
I take with me the memory of the gym,
transformed by magic of fairy dust.
I leave behind the windows,
curtains of merlot matching,
the painted floor, round rug kept my feet warm.
I take with me the sound of the tree rustling
against screen, my personal weatherman.
I leave behind walls of pink,
once covered with pictures,
of movie stars, some were even signed to me.
I take with me memories of Friday nights
with the girls, looking for the boys.
Good-bye little room, you held me in comfort
as I grew, in the first book of the trilogy,
now it is time for the second book.
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The piles of books to read that I keep adding on.
Comic strip characters that guide us with laughter.
Artists who bring beauty into our lives just for the looking.
Memoirs to read of everyday people who don’t realize they are so much more.
For the fresh foods of summer.
For a new/old lamp on my desk that now balances the light I work by, thanks to the RESTORE in Durham/Chapel Hill. I love that store!
For my physical strength.
For my healthy body.
For my challenges at Lexulous (scrabble) online from my tough opponent LauraBelle. Love this game and the women I play against with joy and connection.
For my writing friendships formed over the years and continue to form even though some of us physically meet only occasionally or have not met physically at all and probably never will.
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The Drunken Petunia-Ellie
It rained last night
And the petunias got drunk
With their purple faces
Shining like midnight stars
They lapped up heaven’s wine
Without an ounce of guilt
They are trying to pretend
It didn’t happen
By looking bright and beautiful
But I can tell
Their breath smells
Like God’s winery.
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Special Edition by Carolina Wren Press (2003) for Governor’s Award
for Literature
singing a tree into dance-Jaki Shelton Green, Poet Laureate
Ms. Green has attended Warren Artists Market First Friday Poetry Night
in Warrenton, NC
We thoroughly enjoyed sharing our readings with her.
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Over Tea – terri st cloud -2008
A joy to re-read this chapbook that I carried with me many
tmes while sitting in waiting rooms for for appts. Because her
poems are short, I doodled and created my own sketches
around her words.
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Listen Up! Warren Artists Market
This is our first publication, 2013, a chapbook for the Senior Center Poets group.
We have published 7 anthologies since and have our 8th in the making.
One poem featured in this chapbook:
My African Prince, 1972 –by Carlo
Remember,,
when we first met,
on that hot day at the beach?
Boy
were you all wet!
Me,
lying there
in the sun,
playing it cool.
You,
tall,
bronze
beautiful,
emerging
from the sea.
Our eyes met.
I held my breath,
I must be dreaming.
This cannot be happening.
My heart is being captured
by this creature from the sea.
(LaVerne Gardner)
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Heartspeak-Ellie’s Group
Art Cover by Lillie Leonardi
The Empty Cathedral-
Joyce Lindenmuth
I look at the cathedral
It’s empty
Once built on the backs of dreamers
Who thought they could capture
The beauty of God within a building.
Instead, they built
A monument to themselves
Their cleverness and facility,
Expecting God to notice.
The empty cathedral
Reminds me of my hopes
Of finding God
Inside a building
Instead, I found not peace but dissent,
Disappointment and despair.
I found God outside the cathedral
Within the souls of people I love
Among the trees and birds
And animals and clouds
That surround me.
I look at the cathedral
It’s empty. Alone.
Unlike me.
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Ten Things of Thankfulness
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