My ears itched the other dayvoices caught up with metraveling the speed of windwords skip across time like stonessidarmed into ripplesa beach full of onlookersfeet crunch atop the pebblescasting a stoneplanting a seedgrowing a flowerpulling a weedkarma may be as gardenstended by the faithfulproducing understandingcatching up to us all gifts in hand***
Author Archives: Shannon Laws
Poetry: Honey Jar
HONEY JARHe still calls me honeythat jar is long emptyfew amber crystals cling to the insideHow long ’till the pet names stop’till a new sweetener is foundPerhaps a Sweet n’ Low will find himMaybe an Equal will catch his eyeHe’ll bless the day High Fructose Corn Syruptap dances into his heart!Honey he may call itbut honey it will never behis appetite forContinueContinue reading “Poetry: Honey Jar”
Ladybugs Day Out
For the past two months or so I have been doing what I can to support a friend whose husband is very ill. I’m not too good in these situations, but I am pretty skilled at just sitting there and providing company. Went to visit them both at the hospital the other week. It wasContinueContinue reading “Ladybugs Day Out”
Poetry: Moon Dial
MOON DIAL The moon speaks to me through my window slit, curtain and blinds open just enough for fresh air to relieve me in the night The moon speaks to me announcing it is 3 o’clock it chatters away for 20 minutes about plans, loves, problems, recipes Please beContinueContinue reading “Poetry: Moon Dial”
Shut Ins
There is a growing concern on my mind about the condition and mentality of our elderly that I must address: Shut-ins. Sparked by a recent incident, the following rant is an attempt by me to process the barbarian social cycle Americans have created. A cycle that involves the elements of the high cost of healthContinueContinue reading “Shut Ins”
Village Books Poetry Group: P.I.P.
VBPG site title photo artist DONA REED:Hand-pulled Relief Print, “Squabbling Ravens” Please visit her site: http://www.rainshadow-arts.comVillage Books Poetry Group is a fine place to bring in a PIP = poem in progress. Last Thursday I shared this new poem “PEW” with my group. One line in the poem started an interesting conversation. The line is “MidContinueContinue reading “Village Books Poetry Group: P.I.P.”
Poetry: Sailing
Letting goto me meansRELAXINGDo not stressprocrastinateprolongignoreLet go of the titheruntie the boatsail for open waterface temptationsfears of drowningfalse beliefsthat await mein the wavesSwells willrock mestars willguide mebreeze willcool meOnce the smellof earth is gonea seagullwill appearmarking the momentmy limits arediscovered*A poem written during a poetry class March 2013
Poetry: Winter Sunset
Winter Sunsetsun setting at three pmgetting ready for bedshade drawn on the west windowconversation bouncingoff hard woodspoons clink inbowls of whitedoes the sun hear my pen scrape across the pagecan the womanwith red hair hear the bubbles sparkle in my cupIt is implied
Whatcom Creek Fire
On June 10, 1999, around 3:25 P.M., a 16-inch fuel line owned by the Olympic Pipe Line Company ruptured spilling over 277,000 gallons of gasoline into Whatcom Creek. The volatile fuel explodes killing three people. The massive fireball sent smoke 30,000 feet into the air, visible from Anacortes to Vancouver! One and a half milesContinueContinue reading “Whatcom Creek Fire”
Kidnapped
This time of year I often think about my Grandma Mimi. In April 1998, my cousin Susan called late in the evening with the news. Before I could say one word she cried out “Grandma was kidnapped!” My cousin went on to give me an account of events: early in the morning grandma had aContinueContinue reading “Kidnapped”
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