If He Loves You

Come and read a beautiful love poem that will let you know – “If He Loves You”!

Moonlighting Scrivener

If you think he doesn’t notice

The corner of your mouth

Where your smile upturns just a tad

When you’re nurturing a naughty thought,

If you think he cannot see

Your eyes glazing over

With a flicker and a frown

As you’re caught in the grip of a bad memory,

If you feel he is oblivious

To the troubles you’re trying to hide

When you speak a little too fast

And gesture a little too often,

If you feel he cannot perceive

The hurt you have been nursing

As you’re trying to imagine a life

Straight out of a fairytale,

If you feel he wouldn’t find out,

The difference between your dreams

And a nightmare most horrifying

Even when he’s deep in his sleep,

Then, oh! My sweet darling,

You’re the one who’s running blind

For when he really loves you

You’re never out of his mind.

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3 Years of Brown Bags: How to Keep a Poetry Group Going – guest blog post by Erica Goss

Please come and read this great post! Be sure to also read Trish’s “About Me” page!!!

Trish Hopkinson

When I became the second Poet Laureate of Los Gatos, California, I wanted to continue the poetry workshop that the first Los Gatos Poet Laureate, Parthenia Hicks, had started. That group met on a weekday evening, once per month. Some of the attendees told me that they would prefer a daytime option, so I started a monthly, noon-to-2:00 p.m. poetry workshop at the Los Gatos Public Library. The workshop, free and open to the public, ran for three years.

A core group of between eight and ten dedicated, talented poets came every month ready to share their work, comment on the other writers’ work, and offer encouragement and ideas. Since we met at lunchtime, I named it the “Brown Bag Poetry Workshop,” and at first, people did bring sandwiches and fruit along with their poems. Later, no one brought food, just poetry.

Part of the group’s success was due to…

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A Writer’s Curse

This is really a great post on writing and what it means to you and others. Come read “A Writers Curse”.

Almost But Not Quite Enough

Being a writer is not a profession

Anyone who told you that, lied.

It’s a curse, a condition, a horrible disease.

If you haven’t caught it yet, you better hide.

The things I have done for poetic symmetry

The regrettable paths I knowingly chose

The self-loathing, the hurt, the pain, the shame

All for a song, a story, a prose.

You’ll have to forgive me and my kind

All we do is indulge ourselves from night to day

We cram all of reality in sentences and syntax,

And pretend like we are the only ones with things to say.

People ask me who do I really write for

Truth is I write for the sake of writing.

This is how I choose to live my life

The only time my bitterness comes out of hiding.

Of course there are days when I wonder what does it all mean?

Are these…

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RED CABBAGE

Please come and read about all the health benefits of Red Cabbage! You will be pleasantly surprised. You will have something to share with your friends – besides poetry!!!

HEALTHY LIFESTYLE

What Is Red Cabbage?
Red cabbage is a nutritious and delicious vegetable that has become very popular throughout the world for a number of reasons. Not only is it very good for the body, but it also adds flavor and flair to a wide variety of dishes.

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Red cabbage, also known as purple cabbage or red kraut, is a member of the Brassicaceae family and can be found throughout Northern Europe, America, and parts of China. It isn’t clear what the exact progression of its native location is, but it is an offshoot of the traditional cabbage species.Interestingly enough, red cabbage is often used as a pH indicator, since it changes color specifically dependent on the pH balance of the material it is in.Did you know that cabbage was one of two vegetable types (the other type was root vegetables) found to be a mainstay for prevention of type 2…

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Subtext

Come and read Sarah Melone’s moving poem “Subtext”!

Talking to the Clouds

sheisrisen

You wrote me in (a certain way)

I didn’t speak my dialogue (correctly)

Asked too many questions

Laughed in all the wrong places

Didn’t gaze up at you (as it was written)

I went off your manuscript

into a poem,

a painting,

a cloud

(and you couldn’t write me back)

The hero will always be hero (you hold the pen)

I’m standing on the balcony

I’m falling in the ocean

I’m setting with the sun

(not every story has a happy ending)

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6

Come and read this beautiful poem of remembrance.

*

You are an anthology
of all the kindness
and all the sadness
you’ve ever felt.

Event invitations not addressed to your name;
Saturday cartoons, summer morning;
big laughs, behind your back;
dim lights, birthday candles (and counting)
amounting to the distinction between loved and lost
every year you’ve lived.

Be reminded that your life
is woven in plush light–
adoration of parents
who loved each other so much
they needed to diversify their affections
into you.

Your story began long before you were born
and I’m sorry we ran out of time.
Frantically grasping memories:
no matter how nimble my fingers are,
they can’t turn the clock’s hands
fast enough to bring you back.

Like your broken knuckle,
maybe our bones will reset in place one day.
Imperfectly,
with an ache always laced in-between, pulsing.

RIP:  10/30/2017

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