Holiday Happy Dance Merry Christmas from the S.P. Laws staff! -Shannon, Brad, Vin, Robert, and Byung-hun Click HERE to view our holiday card in Super-High-Speed Definition™ So, how was your 2014? What a mixed bag of nuts, right. A large group of protesters stage a “die-in” on the street in response Monday in SeattleContinueContinue reading “Christmas Card 2014”
Tag Archives: Shannon P Laws
Poem: Girl Chases Hat
Late night keys dangle in the wind clouds move along the sky river wind swirls low to pick up anything not tied down, not held down There goes her hat! The thing that will keep her warm tonight stomped by feet of shoppers, rejected as trash her hat, made for one head. Rain wetsContinueContinue reading “Poem: Girl Chases Hat”
It’s Time for Ham!
Since 2010 I have posted this story around the holidays. It has become a Madrona Grove tradition. The ham story is a about generations and tradition. My mother’s mid-western family has many traditions. One that is especially unique is making fresh Oyster Stew on New Years. My mother’s Minnesotan family originates from the Rhine RiverContinueContinue reading “It’s Time for Ham!”
Poem: A Skin Suit Sewn Too Tightly
Red rock of Bisbee calls the ghosts out as a doctor sucks poison from a bite Back come the dead to walk again reincarnation of secondhand spirits —as secondhand furniture The dresser is painted now The couch new cloth The set of chairs split apart The headboard used for vines In your years ofContinueContinue reading “Poem: A Skin Suit Sewn Too Tightly”
DNA Part One: It Begins
I have a 23andMe DNA kit and I’m not afraid to use it! If you follow my blog or know me a little more than most—like the way one may “know” Nutella after eating half a container—then you’ll know that I am adopted. Orphaned, then adopted. I literally made it 40 years not knowingContinueContinue reading “DNA Part One: It Begins”
Poem: Dust
Bands sunbeams twinkle with flecks of our skin rubbed off from touch, rubbed off as dry soil spinning from a sedimentary cliff layers of time pressed into the stripes we call days ***
Poem: Dead Tongues Tell No Tales
Cut out laid out on a sheet, in a row Pierced and strung hung ’round the neck The cutter, the puller yanks out grabs full Eyes of the carver cold as a tomb Red drops run down, never away
Poetry: River Ink
Originally posted on shannon p. laws :
River Ink Went to the river looking for a poem I found my familiar trail Winding woods that hug the bank Whatcom Creek in August Bushes high and Full of berries, Birds and spiders webs. Grass sways underwater Moving in sync with the river This what peace…
My 9/11 Ferry Commute: A Personal Reflection
Once in line for the passenger ferry to Seattle, I could hear conversations about the event all around. Meeting up with two ferry friends, we started to collect stories from each other. Susan, a regular passenger ferry commuter who worked in the I.T. Department at a hospital downtown, had a cell phone with a news headlines service; it was a newer service at the time and not many people had it. When she shouted out an update, those immediately around us would hush to listen. While we waited on that cold dock for the boat to load she shouted out,
Event: 2014 West Coast Tagore Festival
You’re invited to theWest Coast Tagore FestivalSeptember 5th and 6th 2014Richmond, British Columbia Carla Shafer, friend and host to Bellingham’s Chuckanut Sandstone Writers Theater, and I have been invited to read poems at this event.Last year I was moved by the presentation of Rabindranath Tagore’s life, (b. 7 May 1861 – d. 7 August 1941). TheContinueContinue reading “Event: 2014 West Coast Tagore Festival”
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