It was after this recital
On the New York music scene
My friend asked me to come along
to this nightclub Argentine.
We didn’t take the subway
My friend, she had her car.
To somewhere down in SOHO
Not really very far.
I started getting nervous
As the entrance way grew near.
“Come on” she said, don’t worry.
“Just one quick imported beer.”
Now, my day job was in SOHO.
So, I knew my way around.
I’d never seen this…
Added by Fran Luke on August 9, 2015 at 8:30am — No Comments
My prayer is always whispered
At nighttime, or at play.
This prayer is always whispered.
It’s with me through the day.
My prayer had its beginnings
When young, playing on the floor,
Looking quietly sideways
For movement in the door.
I don’t think they want to hear me
Pray a prayer like this.
I pray for all their happiness
But, for me, something is amiss.
Dear God, when I awaken
Please, please let me be
Added by Fran Luke on August 8, 2015 at 5:36am — No Comments
Toward the end of the Sustainable Development Goals discussions at the UN, Some of the people at the Overseas Development Institute started a Haiku competition in fun. And it was fun. As it turns out however, It made me realize I needed a different form to communicate my frustration with the Non Profit Industrial Complex.
The voiceless they are dancing
Tonight down at the park.
Added by Fran Luke on August 7, 2015 at 8:26am — No Comments
I wonder how I got here
In this time and space.
And wonder how I came here
The condition of this place.
To know how I arrived here
I must look back to see
Where I gave up my power
There was a time we were equal
Partners you and I.
Now you never touch me
Or look me in the eye.
Here now looking backwards
With perfect backward sight.
I was just a plaything.
It seems your friends were right.
Added by Fran Luke on August 6, 2015 at 1:58pm — No Comments
He’s telling me summer is boring
While I straighten out his belt
He’s listed all his issues
Now telling me how he felt
“Summer is really boring
I have to work all day
It’s taking too much time, you know
I don’t have time to play.”
“I don’t have time to do what I want.
And when can we go to the pool?
We have to do something fun
Soon I’ll be back in school.”
I admit my mind was wandering
As I listened to his tome…
Added by Fran Luke on August 6, 2015 at 7:26am — No Comments
To the guy who used to follow me
from the subway to my door.
Why do you need to do this?
Why? Whatever for?
To the guy who used to follow me
from the subway to my door.
Even from the different stops
or as I walked home from the store.
I’ve seen you in the laundry room
And even in the hall.
You’re not helping me feel beautiful
Rather, vulnerable and small.
I’ve seen you on the rooftop
Leaning over, looking in.
Added by Fran Luke on August 6, 2015 at 6:00am — No Comments
I have new photo prompts for writers up at One Minnesota Writer today. If you are more inclined to work from a visual prompt rather than a word prompt, then this is for you. Please stop by and see what you think.
Added by Kathleen Cassen Mickelson on December 6, 2011 at 7:09am — No Comments
Our eldest daughter is turning 13. Unfathomable. Time has flashed by so quickly.
That also means that my husband is about to observe his 13-year anniversary of successful cancer treatment. Thank God. Thirteen years and nary a blip on his health charts suggests he ever had anything seriously wrong with him.
At the time of his diagnosis I was four months pregnant; and dealing with both - expecting our first child and watching Thom endure his many long…
The outspoken, unconventionally feminist and probably bisexual Millay was the most popular poet in America, the epitome of the…Continue
Daisy is smart, and funny, self-mocking in the nicest way, and in love with the messiness of life.
Added by Alicia Suskin Ostriker on April 29, 2011 at 5:30am — No Comments
Yet she was also exuberantly life-loving. This poem is inspirational for me because of the way it celebrates the female body and the way its joy spills over into a sense that all women share, in some mysterious way, in any woman’s luck—that we…Continue
The woman’s hips are free, and so is she. Forget about what a woman’s body is supposed to look like. Forget about diets and Vogue.
She wrote, “What would happen if one woman told the truth about he life?/ The world would split open.” Well, we are telling the truth, and the world is splitting open. The title of the all-time most popular anthology of women’s poetry, No More Masks, also comes form Muriel. For me, she is…Continue
Dickinson is famous for her reclusive life, but she carried on intense and often flirtatious correspondences with many friends. Early editions “corrected” her idiosyncratic style to make it conform to then-acceptable poetic conventions, but she is now recognized as a supremely bold, original poet—as great as…Continue
This week's winner of our new "15K" contest -- which will feature the writer who referred the most new members each week from now until we hit the 15,000 member mark -- is ANNA LEAHY! (WE LOVE YOU ANNA!) SW Founder Kamy Wicoff asked her Five Questions...…Continue
Added by Kamy Wicoff on April 25, 2011 at 9:28am — No Comments
Jan Beatty – title poem from Red Sugar (University of Pittsburgh Press 2008)
When I came across Red Sugar, via recommendation on Amazon no less, I got angry that I hadn't heard of her sooner. I felt cheated that I had not known about her in grad school; I could have learned so much! So, although she's pretty well established with three books published already, I think it's appropriate to include her work as the final post for the week because I love the…Continue
Naomi Benaron - "The Language of Water" from her unpublished chapbook The Bones by Which We Stand
Aside from being a celebrated and virtuosic prose writer, Naomi Benaron is an accomplished poet who delivers a deep sense of awareness and social conscience in her work. She manages to make sweeping and beautiful the most painful of subjects, rendering cinematically the best and worst of the human…Continue
Sarah Gambito – "Immigration," from Delivered (Persea Books 2009)
The speaker in "Immigration" is fierce and complex in questioning the nature and consequences of assimilation. The poem challenges simplistic definitions of immigration's legacy, whether for an individual or a country as a whole. In rejecting any assumptions that history is sacred, the poem is a dare and a scare and a middle finger. Its barbs are aimed at a constructed veneer, digging underneath the…Continue
Ashaki Jackson – "Passing Pamhona" from her unpublished manuscript Thus Are Our Bodies
Ashaki M. Jackson's background as a social psychologist informs her work, as does her interest in the ritual cannibalism practices of "diminishing tribes" in the Amazon and elsewhere. Her poems consider takes a violently unimaginable act and re-frames it, showing how consumption of the body becomes a consumption of grief -- not such a far stretch in this poem, and delivered to…Continue
Added by Khadijah Queen on April 21, 2011 at 3:00am — No Comments