One Poem Only

For My Daughter by Maggie Devers Chop off my head and put it on your shield. I will protect you until the day I die And all the days after that. You think I would let anything harm the perfection that sprang from my body? That force that is me and infinitely you at the same time? There is nothing in the world that could destroy us, Not when a mere glance can turn men to stone. More from Maggie Dev...

Renewal of Strength Frances Ellen Watkins Harper 1825 – 1911 The prison-house in which I live Is falling to decay, But God renews my spirit’s strength Within these walls of clay. For me a dimness slowly creeps Around earth’s fairest light, But heaven grows clearer to my view, And fairer to my sight. It may be earth’s sweet harmonies Are duller to my ear, But music from my Father’s house Begins to...

How often we greet each other with worries by Maggie Devers I went to the wilderness to escape And there are worries there too. Caterpillars falling from their tree Before their chrysalis is complete My weekend project was to save them, But not everybody makes it— There's a worry tied to us like an anchor, How quickly we would sink once we stropped struggling— We lost one to the river A few were s...

A Lady by Amy Lowell 1874 – 1925 You are beautiful and faded, Like an old opera tune Played upon a harpsichord; Or like the sun-flooded silks Of an eighteenth-century boudoir. In your eyes Smoulder the fallen roses of outlived minutes, And the perfume of your soul Is vague and suffusing, With the pungence of sealed spice-jars. Your half-tones delight me, And I grow mad with gazing At your blent co...

Radical by Marianne Moore 1887 – 1972 Tapering to a point, conserving everything, this carrot is predestined to be thick. The world is but a circumstance, a mis- erable corn-patch for its feet. With ambition, imagination, outgrowth, nutriment, with everything crammed belligerent- ly inside itself, its fibres breed mon- opoly — a tail-like, wedge-shaped engine with the secret of expansion, fused wi...

Who Has Seen the Wind Christina Rossetti 1830 – 1894 Who has seen the wind? Neither I nor you. But when the leaves hang trembling, The wind is passing through. Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I. But when the trees bow down their heads, The wind is passing by.

Asking the age old question, where do we start? The Spark by Maggie Devers I try to think where her story starts. When I went to my parents' for the weekend And the Labrador could smell her And for the first time in her dog life, didn’t jump on me Or when I met her father And we kissed on our first date At the cowboy bar that's burned down twice now, Or when we named her And whispered her into my...

Starting May 1, 2025.