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Week three of The Guardian Photo Poems is now live! Click on the tab at the top of the page (or simply click on the hyperlinked text) and then scroll down to read this week’s highlights from last year’s photo inspired poems including defiled graves in France, ice…
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Week two of The Guardian Photo Poems is now live! Click on the tab at the top of the page (or simply click on the hyperlinked text) to read this week’s highlights from last year’s The Guardian photo inspired poems including straw men, booze in Pakistan, and international…
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The Photo Poems are now available as separate posts! No more scrolling down a page for the most recent poems. As before, you can always use the link in the menu at the top of the page to see the latest offering from last year’s adventure in writing…
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Grappling with loss… In the past three months, I’ve “lost” two people I deeply admired to cancer. Though I’m grateful that their suffering is over and I know they’ve “shuffled off this mortal coil” to skip the streets of gold, there’s still a natural grief. And though they…
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Taurus represents deception and destruction, especially relating to infidelity. (Is it any wonder when the constellation commemorates Zeus’s escapades disguised as a bull to steal the affections of Europa?) Over the course of the song the speaker changes from the deceived to deceiver and back to the deceived…
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Monday morning. What should be a fresh start to a week frequently feels like a Normandy beach landing. Before my eyes have time to adjust to the pre-dawn twilight, my alarm shocks me to attention. My vessel, the warm confines of my down-quilted bed, arrives suddenly on the…
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Of all the constellations in the evening sky, Orion remains one of my favorite and the most recognizable. In fact, just last night I stopped to gaze heavenward, turning from the radiant glow of Venus to the three-starred belt of the mighty hunter. Orion’s story is one of…
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Few people probably agonize as much as I do (at times) about what words will follow that blinking cursor on the screen. How should I reply to that text? How should I phrase this email? Should I even write anything at all? Usually, we don’t take the time…
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The deepening ground, both as a site and poem, emerged from my recent fascination with Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time Quintet. More specifically, it took root (pun intended) in my mind after listening to A Wind in the Door during a long car trip. I knew I’d…
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the deepening ground 