Tag: Deirdre Kessler

my mother

Judy Gaudet

she survives and smiles no the hail has not struck there that danced and crashed our party and the sun has reappeared chased cumulus to blue sky ...

A Gift of Blueberries

Lobie Daughton

This secret place. This juice that blooms upon my lips, that coats my fingertips. This purple harvest that I search for on the briny bank beneat...

A gift of Island poetry

Bren Simmers

Strollers stake out shady maples    while kids ride noodles       in the wading pool, bob in water wings. Moms up to their    knees cool o...

Pond Lullaby

Jane Ledwell

Sleep, my damselfly, wings pressed in mute prayer. Cease, my whirligig, spinning pond-skin to air. Let all water striders take rest from their strid...

How Could You Forget This?

Chris Bailey

Don’t forget where you came from. Simple. Easy like dropping a slut rock tied to a herring net off the boat’s stern, sidestepping rusted chains...

Seeing Red

Thomas O'Grady

Blizzard-bound, snowed under, walled-in … swallowed by a whirling world of white, a mapless maze of shifting waist-deep drifts, he wades and wa...

professor schwarz

(eminent judge of poetry contests)

imagine a poem in which there is no funny or sad this is not that poem imagine a poem in which bear goes over the river to see what he can see ...

Storm Day

Hugh MacDonald

Our wooden house squats south face to the river. Pine and spruce fir and poplar maple and oak at our sides and backs. Somewhere over Labrador w...

The Photographer of Snowflakes

Steve McOrmond

As a boy, he tried to sketch them, but his pencil couldn’t scurry fast enough before the designs melted or sublimed in air. He wanted to hold the...

The Feet of Blue Herons

John MacKenzie

If you happen to live in another town, Or country, or even galaxy As dim and distant in time as in space From these words, this language, the narro...

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