For Saint Patrick’s Day, I thought I would share a reprint of a favorite post, relating a bit of Irish history (sometimes called mythology). This poem tells the story of Patrick’s encounter with a poet named Oisin. Oisin (pronounced O-sheen) was the son of Finn MacUail (pronounced M’Cool) who was a great warrior. Oisin was … Continue reading Oisin and Patrick
(with thanks to Paul Simon on Brigid’s midwinter feast day) The prompt was to write a poem inspired by a song, and so I did. Midway between the winter solstice and the shush of an espresso machine I stand hypnotized by the sound of water dripping, my feet shifting on sticky linoleum. The tule fog … Continue reading The Roots of Rhythm
Written with my Thursday night group with the prompts: strange person in your bed again; driving a taxi; cat suit; interesting way to make a living; letter to human friend; faces of dead men filter through his brain like sunrise; first day of 3rd grade; write about what you don’t know about what you know; … Continue reading Meredith and the Cheetah
Jason came up out of the subway on Tuesday when there was a break in the storm to busk in the space between the Dunkin’ Donuts and the bus stop. He came equipped with a borrowed guitar, his own harmonica, and a smashed brown fedora he’d owned for decades. He called it his magic hat: … Continue reading Morning Song
Written with my Thursday night writing group with the prompts: beautiful Melvina, giggles again, untethered soul, gardenias in hair, watching cartoons, unremarkable bone, human life will flicker out, when I think of returning to my mother, when I look in my mother’s eyes, quirky details, go ahead and pat me down, she sort of smiled, … Continue reading Beautiful Melvina
Mama’s family never could afford to send her to college. From as far back as I can remember, she promised it would be different for me. “You are smart and you are beautiful,” she’d tell me. “You are going to go far.” Of course I believed her. Why wouldn’t I? I didn’t know it cost … Continue reading Manna
Beginning Written with my Thursday night group with the prompts: tumbleweeds, fruit, this morning I could smell _______, no one seemed upset, just move one foot, stories I don’t want or need to hear again, things my mother told me, I was never meant to, raisins, eaten for protein, he began to chant, knowledge is power, … Continue reading Beginning
A year ago Jean had a love affair with a man who moiled the river. He was a lanky man, with a day’s growth of stubbly dark brown beard on his ruddy cheeks, a man with an easy laugh. He’d come from a different era, a ghost from the gold rush, whom Jean had met in the … Continue reading Allow the Magic
Written with my Thursday night group with the prompts: she’s lost control; unplugged; we had a falling out; a far more pleasant pursuit; loved searching for shiny treasures; a pack of coyotes, that’s it for this edition; Manhattan mojo; unparalleled; trying to resolve the dilemma by wishing I could take both roads Melinda came in from … Continue reading Life in the City
Written with my Thursday night group with the prompts: first days at school, Fred said, not in the forest anymore, jitterbugging encouraged, sometimes it feels good to take the long way, she described our story, I love our deck, winter, shared experiences, aura of purple, for the gate, hair love or hare love, her creative brain … Continue reading The Deck
