Tag Archives: poetry

pspoetry Day 15 the tree

The Tree-arlene s bice

In my walk in the wood

It calls to me

The tree

Tilted, inelegant

Its wounds showing

Survived, yet again

A beauty of its own,

Waking from winter’s rest

Buds bursting

Leaves filling out

In dark greens and light

Dressing its bones

With a spring outfit

Birds nesting

Offering a symphony

A hug is appropriate.

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Sealey Chapbk Challenge-13

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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Sealey Chapbk Challenge-10

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


when we first met,

on that hot day at the beach?


were you all wet!


lying there

 in the sun,

playing it cool.






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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Sealey Chapbk Challenge-8

Indigo Tapestry-
Erika E. B. DeRuth

I met Erika DeRuth at IWWG annual writing conference

and bought this chapbook from her in 2000.

A few poem titles with in:

cha cha pinsprites

questions fly

spraypaint on art’


ballet in cowboy boots

apples and underwear

who am i

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Chapbook Challenge-day 5

Crossings –Jude Dippold

Jude writes of losses, letting go, death, dying, mourning, mostly remembering; bringing remembering to me, though my memories are always there in my shadow even when I have no shadow.  I feel the depth in his writing as it encourages me to take time to write a poem for each of my own many losses.

Clearly I see the portrait of his sister he writes about, my dear friend Anne, younger then, with the simple beauty of daisies and the sun lighting her hair. She adored her brother.

Fortunately, each of my lost loves i.e. ancestors, parents, siblings, sons, and friends, has come to me at least once, a few have come often but each time has been comforting. Life after life and all after love.  This is a special chapbook that has important insights to give you, written in many different ways.

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Chapbook Challenge-day 4

From the late Judy Beach’s Ritual Writing IWWG

One poem:

Spell For A Desired Position

arlene s bice

Cast a circle

lay a blue cloth in the center

with a blue candle in a blue dish on top

of the blue cloth. Enhance this with a blue

ribbon, let scented citrus oil permeate the air. Be

sure to have blue underwear on. Lay a section of

the newspaper that is desired to be publish in, be-

tween  you and the candle. Lay your article on top of

the desired newspaper. Light the blue candle. Begin

speaking gently to Mother Goddess:  “Please merge

these two that I may become the writer, published

routinely,  desired by many readers, appreciated 

by editors.  Send the power, wisdom,

make way for my path. My grace

 to you with thankfulness.

Blessed be.

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New Challenge- read a chapbook a day for August

Writing What You Love Loving What You Write

From the late Judy Beach

Ice Cream and Love

arlene s bice

It’s more than a childhood memory;

the texture, the flavors, the taste

rolling around my tongue, melting, creamy

soothing my throat, adding to my pleasure.

The biting cold stinging my mouth.

Strawberries freshly picked in spring,

chunks, dripping with sweet juices

lay over the mound of French Vanilla

in a fancy glass rimmed in gold

like kisses laying on my lips.

A summer-ripened cantaloupe,

hollowed out and filled with scoops

of Chocolate; blending, melting

with the juices of warm fruit

coming together as one body.

In the autumn when spicy flavors

of Pumpkin and Buttered Rum tease

the palate, tingling the tongue

licking the drips on the cone,

my fingers wrapped around it.

Cold winds come in winter,

volcanic hot fudge covers the

heaping icebergs of Black Walnut

like your hands caressing my

breasts with your touch.

Seasons define the years,

flavors define the seasons.

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Day 12 Today’s prompt I’d like to challenge you to write a triolet.

Fields of Flowers arlene s bice

Fields of flowers, we poets write

Do we really walk among them

Or do they just express a sight

Fields of flowers, we poets write

We’re in love then again just might

Not have those feelings all the same

Fields of flowers, we poets write

Do we really walk among them?

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LOOKING FOR ‘CUDA BROWN by Thomas Park- book review

This collection of extraordinary poems tells the story of vivid, African-American characters who have passed through the life of the author in a small, rural town in the South. Sometimes they entertain and sometimes salty tears burst, overflowing the eyelid wells, for the terrible tragedy of a life. Park has reached deep into his soul to let you know that these people lived and died and mattered, without any judgment from him. If these characters were not noticed in life, they will remain with the reader for a long, lingering time.
In all his honesty, Park reports on events that happened . . . and didn’t happen. When dreams blossomed with hope for a community and were taken away leaving disappointment for many who worked hard, giving their all, to bring about ideal living. The author exudes love of his community. He shows this caring by continuing to encourage the arts, the love of words and writing to anyone who wants to participate. I love this book.

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Filed under American History, book review, New book release, poetic narrative, Poetry, reflection, The South, warren county nc



Arlene Sandra Bice

Finishing my memoir-interviewing for the next ghostly book-reaching for submissions for this year’s anthology-seeking recipes for the cookbook, accepting stories for the grandmother’s book-writing lesson plans for the writers’ groups-formatting a teaching program-planning a new poetry book-publishing books for others!


It’s about to drive me over the edge

there are not enough hours in the day, yet

I love what I do


cannot give up


time with friends




will not give up



Tai Chai Chih

volunteer work

I love what I do

I’m full

of gratitude for it

thankful for it

so there is no answer

I just love what I do.

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Filed under Poetry, wormen writing