Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Do you have a book for sale?
If you have a poetry book for sale email me or leave a comment here with a link to the site where your book can be bought for inclusion in a new section on our blogroll called: Purchase the Chapbook of a PWB Poet.
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Watch Cendrine Marrouat
PWB's very own Cendrine Marrouat from And They All Rejoiced reads her poetry in videos on You Tube. Click here to watch the first video she made: Agnus Dei.
Saturday, May 02, 2009
Jigsaw Poem 2 for May
2009: a Gleam of Hope
New Year's Day: seven a.m.
The warden trudged
through fresh snow
to tend a lone creature
of the night. Warm water
and glucose drip-
dripped from the syringe:
the owl allowed herself
to rehydrate, forgetting
her injured wing
and broken pride.
At nine, over a belated
breakfast of a bite
of toast, the warden
smiled. His bird
had made it: the word
'Fantastic!' swooped
from his lips, scattering
crumbs to the ends
of the earth.
© Caroline Gill 2009
from Caroline at the Coastcard.
New Year's Day: seven a.m.
The warden trudged
through fresh snow
to tend a lone creature
of the night. Warm water
and glucose drip-
dripped from the syringe:
the owl allowed herself
to rehydrate, forgetting
her injured wing
and broken pride.
At nine, over a belated
breakfast of a bite
of toast, the warden
smiled. His bird
had made it: the word
'Fantastic!' swooped
from his lips, scattering
crumbs to the ends
of the earth.
© Caroline Gill 2009
from Caroline at the Coastcard.
Friday, May 01, 2009
Jigsaw Poem
Final Dream
by William H. Graffius from Watching the Wind Blow By
The gleam of sunlight on fresh fallen snow
conceals a lone broken syringe
at my frozen feet.
Ironic imagery, I think, for
seven years lost in alternating
pleasure and pain,
eventually numbness.
Even the bite of winter wind
fails to break through
and the blurring world becomes
A fantastic kaleidoscope of color
And light.
Across the park the old woman
feeds bits of burnt toast to the pigeons.
Death, albeit belated, has finally come
I think, for me, and I hope
I do not startle her in her daily
life giving ritual
as I sink into my final dream.
by William H. Graffius from Watching the Wind Blow By
The gleam of sunlight on fresh fallen snow
conceals a lone broken syringe
at my frozen feet.
Ironic imagery, I think, for
seven years lost in alternating
pleasure and pain,
eventually numbness.
Even the bite of winter wind
fails to break through
and the blurring world becomes
A fantastic kaleidoscope of color
And light.
Across the park the old woman
feeds bits of burnt toast to the pigeons.
Death, albeit belated, has finally come
I think, for me, and I hope
I do not startle her in her daily
life giving ritual
as I sink into my final dream.
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