THE POET BY DAY

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Grow high. The devil can’t find you. Grow deep. Buddha can’t find you. Build a house and live there. Gourd creepers will climb over it, their flowers dazzling at midnight. Ko Un, What?: 108 Zen Poems, forward by Thich Nhat Hanh I’ve been trying to lighten things up a bit with the last few prompts and this collection is in response to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt, The Contours of Joy, March… Read More

The sweetness of dogs (fifteen) What do you say, Percy? I am thinking of sitting out on the sand to watch the moon rise. Full tonight. So we go and the moon rises, so beautiful it makes me shudder, makes me think about time and space, makes me take measure of myself: one iota pondering heaven. Thus we sit, I thinking how grateful I am for the moon’s perfect beauty and also,… Read More

“Alas! a woman that attempts the pen, Such an intruder on the rights of men, Sucha presuptuouos Creature, is esteem’d, The fault can by no virtue be redeem’d … How are we fallen, fallen by mistaken rules? Ad Education’s , more than Nature’s foods, Debarr’d from all improve-meats of the mind, And to be dull, expected and designed … -Anne Finch, The Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilesea, ed. by Myra Reynolds… Read More

“A Word is Dead A word is dead When it is said, Some say. I say it just Begins to live That day.” Emily Dickinson, The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson Thanks today to Gary W. Bowers, Paul Brooks, Irma Do, Deb Felio (Deb y Felio), Jen Goldie, Anjum Wasim Dar, and new to our community, Maribeth Parot Juraska for responding with such well-considered and diverse perspectives to the last Wednesday Writing… Read More