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National Poetry Month Community Project Posts

What Am I?

by Sara Pearl, 2023

I’m a caterpillar at first,

and I like to eat leaves.

When I grow up, I get to be free.

I get to go up in the sky,

where I can fly.

What am I?

My Child

by Irene Cantor, 2023

Oh, to be a child again.

The ebb and flow of the days, of the months… alas of the years.

Soon it will be your turn, my precious one, to take on the burdens and the joys.

But for now, your life is soft and cuddly and protected.

Oh my child, my dear child.

If you could only remember these times,

Not only for the happenings, but also for the feelings,

And deliver them to your own dear little ones.

Then the days and the months and the years will flow anew,

Oh, to be a child again.

Red And Other Colors

by Adam D. Fisher, 2023

A haiku and two tankas:

1.

Red maple next to

shimmering water flames in 

early October. 

2.

Red cardinals, black

and white chickadees, brown and 

tan sparrows, yellow 

gold finches, house finches’ red 

heads, eat seeds at my feeder.

3.

Red kidney, black, white 

cannelli, tan garbanzos:

beans soak in a pot

like multi-colored pebbles 

in the water at the beach. 

Sometimes Silence Is Better

by Jenna Levine, 2023

The loss is like someone

Ripping your heart from your chest

And crushing it in front of you.

 

In a matter of moments, 

Everything is heavy.

Your legs are weak,

And you can’t move your arms.

Some words try to escape,

But nothing comes out.

The only thing escaping

Is the salty liquid that’s pouring from your eyes.

 

The signals from your mind

Tell you to brush away your tears.

But you let them fall.

You let your face turn red with dejection. 

Your head fills with memories, 

You’re remembering…

What you did and didn’t do with them.

What you should’ve done, or shouldn’t have done.

It all blends together.

 

And you realize

Everything is quiet.

The silence consumes you

And you feel calm.

It’s not all so loud anymore.

Your mind has gone empty.

Behind sniffles,

You hear the silence.

Nothing can be said or done to make things better.

There’s no changing what happened.

The only thing that’s playing as relief

Is the silence.

 

The car ride to the hospital we all know,

We know there’s nothing to be said.

The silence consumes us,

And we’re left to think.

 

What will be different now that he’s gone?

How much will his passing truly affect us?

What happens now?

 

The family fills the room,

Gathering around the lifeless shell of a person,

Who used to be your father.

 

The Silence is loud.

No one dares to break it.

 

Later that week, 

“I’m sorry for your loss”

Fills the funeral room,

But it doesn’t make it better.

Silence would be better,

Much better than this.

The generalized apologies,

Lack personality,

It lacks true empathy,

Frankly,

It feels insincere.

 

It would be so much better if everyone

Stopped talking,

Stopped trying 

To make things better.

Stopped everything,

And embraced the silence.

 

Silence is peaceful,

And never awkward.

 

Silence is personable,

It speaks more than you think.

 

Silence is pleasant,

Relaxing and

Far,

Far from the noise of the world.

 

The noise is obnoxious,

Stress inducing,

Loud.

It’s distracting,

And irritating.

It keeps you from staying focused and on task.

 

Silence is better.

The silence swallows you whole,

Allowing you to reminisce on the world

Your life,

Your actions,

Everything that led up to this moment.

 

It’s all because of the silence,

There’s no judgment in silence,

No fake apologies,

No pretending to care,

 

Just peace and quiet

That is why

Sometimes silence is better

The Graceful Elephant

by Jennifer Reedy, 2022

I am old
I am not skinny
My thighs are too thick for my calves
My belly hangs over my pants
I don’t care
I put on my pink canvas shoes anyway
I am learning ballet
I plie’ and bend
Yet struggle to rise and releve’
There’s fondue, to melt, like cheese & chocolate
Tondue, to stretch
Saute’ to jump
Music plays and my sore body creeks and pops
Balance
Hold
Breathe
Move
Lift
It’s exhilarating!
I strive to be as graceful as an elephant.

One Moon, Two Nights

by Anne Kelly-Edmunds, 2022

September’s full moon
dressed in harvest hues
rose about the eastern horizon.
She beckoned brightly as I drove.
I followed until she lit
the foot path to my home.

October’s Hunter’s Moon
shone midnight bright
through out windows.
She woke me with the call:
Come out of doors.
Feel the moist air on your skin,
the damp earth beneath your feet.
I followed, witnessed her shining
arc towards the western horizon.

Give Me the Cooling Night Sky

by Markos Rapitis, 2022

Give me the cooling night sky in all its beauty.

Give me the pretty fireflies that light up the night.

Give me the grass that is covered in dew.

Give me the chance to look up in the night sky and see the stars.

Give me the sun with all of it’s heat to warm me up.

Give me the evening when all goes quiet to watch the sunset fall.

In Spring

by Anne Kelly-Edmunds, 2022

Tight buds open,
        arch toward freedom.
Crimson wishes bloom,
        unfurl with hope.

Beach Walk

by Charlotte Heotis, edited by Peter Heotis, 2022

I strolled along the sandy beach
My tracing the ocean could not reach
But when I look behind
There were only the sands of time.
So, it is with earthly things
We come, we go
Tears only memory we know
Rage and torment are for naught
And only peace and love not forgot.