Right around Thanksgiving, I make a big pot of tea and reread all the poems in my journal. Inevitably, it ends up being a commentary on the year itself. I’ve been following this practice since 2002, and believe me, the poems say more than I could in a thousand pages of journaling.
Psalms as poetry - some of it is sound from the first note to the last, some have verses with a bouncy hook, and some sections should probably not be spoken aloud in polite company.
What would you say, in a poem, to a friend facing a serious diagnosis? How might your experience provide wisdom? Is there a poem that ... you could share?
Which blue sky do you see today? How can you describe it in a way that describes how you are feeling? Or perhaps your sky isn’t blue at all—write that sky.
LIKE VIEWING A LIVE POEM, UNFOLDING IN SEASON-TIME Each morning I open the blinds covering all my windows. The light looks in and I look out. Whichever window I happen to be nearest shows an ever-changing view of various trees....
