Poetry Submissions

In the Summer                                                                                                Ayla Larson

In the summer

I’m not such a bummer

In the fall

The trees look quite tall

In the winter

The cold hits like splinter

In the spring

It feels like a dream

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Branches to Heaven                                                                                        Alicia Willman

God sent you from heaven,

Right here to me.

To nurture and grow

My dear sweet baby.

Throughout the years

You’ve grown like a tree.

In awe I’ve stood,

Enjoying your leaves.

The seasons have changed,

The time has quite flown.

Still in amazement

Of how strong you’ve grown.

How can this be?

Now he’s calling me home,

And it’s my turn to fly.

But sweet baby dear

Just look up at the sky.

I’ll be in the sunshine,

The moon and the stars.

Look to me to lead you,

From right where you are.

January snow, February flurries

April rain, please son don’t worry.

May will soon come,

And flowers will dance

As all the birds sing.

Forever here I’ll be

On your branches with wings.

Remember me always,

And don’t forget I’m still here

Smiling and loving you,

My sweet baby dear.

Home I will fly,

But forever I’ll land

On your strong branches, in your shade

Until we are together again.

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Poems by Aria Webb                                                                                               Grade 5

Day at the Beach with Peaches

There once was a bird named Peaches

Who wanted to swim at the beaches

She sat on a towel

She said, “What a fowl”

And then stripped down to her breeches.

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Lucy

My favorite pet is a dog

Who likes to play in a bog

She rolls in the mud

She’s really a dud

She’s like a bump on a log.

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To Be or Not to Be a Bookworm                                                                     Elaine Jones

There is a little worm in my head.

It goes with me everywhere,

Even to bed.

I don’t know exactly when he made

My head his home.

Probably once when I felt alone.

He has gotten bigger over time,

Which makes me feel quite fine.

That little worm has shown me

A great big world I’d never have

Found if he hadn’t been around.

Some people think a worm is a pest

But for a friend, this one is the best.

You’ll find one in your head also

As you discover

When you read books from cover to cover.

If someone should call you a bookworm,

Smile with pride that in your head,

A little worm resides.

Then you may want to shock them as you

Reply, “Thanks, you’re very kind but I’d

Rather be called a bibliophile.”

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Oh Cedar                                                                                                         Paula Patselas

A peaceful bench welcomed me

A respite from the sun and wind of a brisk November day

A panoramic water view in front of me

A lovely cedar nestled behind me

Its  branches hovered just slightly over like a cloak

Tiny brown birds flew in and out of thick webbed cedar branches

Perhaps a nest in the making

The cedar smell and dark green foliage

Summoned a long ago memory of Christmas on the farm

Cold outside, I rode the tractor with him, grandchildren in tow on the trailer

In search of the perfect Christmas tree

Finally, a prickly bushy cedar was selected from the pasture border

The chain saw buzzed, gas fumes filled the air, the cows lowed

The children squealed with frosty breath and glee

Grandma baking at the farmhouse would be so pleased

She would decorate the “Charlie Brown” tree sparingly but lovingly

The years flew by, grandparents have yielded to the cycle of life

Children left the nest, the farm is gone, the memories remain……

Oh cedar, where art thou?

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Every Night                                                                                                      Sophie Patrick

Every night,

I watch the sky,

Waiting for the sun to come.

The dress of night,

Darkens the light,

I watch and wait for the sun.

Till someone special unlocks the dark,

I wait for that special someone.

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A Poem is More Than Words                                                                          Susan Bodnar

A poem is more than words

Sputtered or jotted down

Upon a paper or even a napkin,

It is the heart and soul

Of a person sharing their view of the world.

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Scratched Up Toes                                                                                          Alexandra Harris

Cat, why are you so close?

Why are you wiggling your body and toes?

Are you going to bounce?

Are you going to pounce?

Oh, Doctor! Look at my scratched up nose!

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Poems by Franco Pagnucci

                        Then

That fiddler crab that crossed our path the morning

the tide was out far and the sun heavy on the salt marsh flats,

you couldn’t miss the green and pollen –

the yellow glow of his giant claw paraded above his muddied head.

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Emerald Isle

We walk west along the strand

and come back.

The sea washes in from the east

and backs out.

Sometimes we turn toward each other

and smile.

We know this world is not ours.

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            You Pucker Your Mouth to Blow in a Conch

We always have to imagine

the whole from the pieces

we find as the tide

washes out.

But you’re never sure.

a twist, a curve,

an envisioned

shading

blush of amber

might be all wrong.

You’re left with parts of

a perfection only imagined

while the tide rushes in again.

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Poems by  Deborah Hartnett Ruzicka

Rapunzel

A voice cries, “Rapunzel, let down your hair!”

You promptly release the golden stair.

What I want to know is, why do you care?

Why would you let someone climb up your hair?

At first, I can see, it was a means to an end,

You were just trying to help out a friend.

But now, any stranger who passes and presses

Is being allowed to climb up your tresses.

I can just imagine how tangled it must get,

And tell me, do the climbers slip when it’s wet,

After washing, which must take hours and hours,

With special shampoo made with chamomile flowers.

Combing and brushing, climbed and tangled again,

I must say, Rapunzel, this really should end.

Perhaps a therapist could give you a listen

To help you see what in your life has been missing.

A while ago I went to visit my friend

To see how she’s doing, if she’s on the mend.

I am pleased to say, and it was a bit of a shocker,

To see on the door a shiny brass knocker!  I rapped.

Come up, she said, I’m combing my hair.

The sign near the door said, please…

Use the stairs.

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The Housewife

The stark whiteness

Of the laundry on the line

Reflects the sun through the window,

Illuminating the kitchen.

So many flags of truce

Flapping in the breeze,

Silently screaming, surrender.