Home

The Funeral by Norman Dubie

Leave a comment

“The Funeral”
It felt like the zero in brook ice.
She was my youngest aunt, the summer before
We had stood naked
While she stiffened and giggled, letting the minnows
Nibble at her toes. I was almost four—
That evening she took me
To the springhouse where on the scoured planks
There were rows of butter in small bricks, a mold
Like ermine on the cheese,
And cut onions to rinse the air
Of the black, sickly-sweet meats of rotting pecans.

She said butter was colored with marigolds
Plucked down by the marsh
With its tall grass and miner’s-candles.
We once carried the offal’s pail beyond the barn
To where the fox could be caught in meditation.
Her bed linen smelled of camphor. We went

In late March for her burial. I heard the men talk.
I saw the minnows nibble at her toe.
And Uncle Peter, in a low voice, said
The cancer ate her like horse piss eats deep snow.

The Portrait – Stanley Kunitz

Leave a comment

“The Portrait”
My mother never forgave my father
for killing himself,
especially at such an awkward time
and in a public park,
that spring
when I was waiting to be born.
She locked his name
in her deepest cabinet
and would not let him out,
though I could hear him thumping.
When I came down from the attic
with the pastel portrait in my hand
of a long-lipped stranger
with a brave moustache
and deep brown level eyes,
she ripped it into shred
without a single word
and slapped me hard.
In my sixty-fourth year
I can feel my cheek
still burning.

The Simple Truth by Philip Levine

Leave a comment

“The Simple Truth”
I bought a dollar and a half’s worth of small red potatoes,
took them home, boiled them in their jackets
and ate them for dinner with a little butter and salt.
Then I walked through the dried fields
on the edge of town. In middle June the light
hung on in the dark furrows at my feet,
and in the mountain oaks overhead the birds
were gathering for the night, the jays and mockers
squawking back and forth, the finches still darting
into the dusty light. The woman who sold me
the potatoes was from Poland; she was someone
out of my childhood in a pink spangled sweater and sunglasses
praising the perfection of all her fruits and vegetables
at the road-side stand and urging me to taste
even the pale, raw sweet corn trucked all the way,
she swore, from New Jersey. “Eat, eat” she said,
“Even if you don’t I’ll say you did.”
Some things
you know all your life. They are so simple and true
they must be said without elegance, meter and rhyme,
they must be laid on the table beside the salt shaker,
the glass of water, the absence of light gathering
in the shadows of picture frames, they must be
naked and alone, they must stand for themselves.
My friend Henri and I arrived at this together in 1965
before I went away, before he began to kill himself,
and the two of us to betray our love. Can you taste
what I’m saying? It is onions or potatoes, a pinch
of simple salt, the wealth of melting butter, it is obvious,
it stays in the back of your throat like a truth
you never uttered because the time was always wrong,
it stays there for the rest of your life, unspoken,
made of that dirt we call earth, the metal we call salt,
in a form we have no words for, and you live on it.

Quote for Today

Leave a comment

“The keys to patience are acceptance and faith. Accept things as they are, and look realistically at the world around you. Have faith in yourself and in the direction you have chosen.”  Ralph Marston

Stone by Charles Simic 

Leave a comment

stone“Stone”
Go inside a stone
That would be my way.
Let somebody else become a dove
Or gnash with a tiger’s tooth.
I am happy to be a stone.

From the outside the stone is a riddle:
No one knows how to answer it.
Yet within, it must be cool and quiet
Even though a cow steps on it full weight,
Even though a child throws it in a river,
The stone sinks, slow, unperturbed
To the river bottom
Where the fishes come to knock on it
And listen.

I have seen sparks fly out
When two stones are rubbed.
So perhaps it is not dark inside after all;
Perhaps there is a moon shining
From somewhere, as though behind a hill—
Just enough light to make out
The strange writings, the star charts
On the inner walls.

Fragment by Angelina Weld Grimke

Leave a comment

“Fragment”
I am the woman with the black black skin
I am the laughing woman with the black black face
I am living in the cellars and in every crowded place
I am toiling just to eat
In the cold and in the heat
And I laugh
I am the laughing woman who’s forgotten how to weep
I am the laughing woman who’s afraid to go to sleep

Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden

Leave a comment

“Those Winter Sundays
Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?

Older Entries

The Writer's Corner

AuthorAJPalm, Anna J Palm, Anna Palm, Writer's Corner

Gathering Up the Fragments

Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde

Chesya Burke

Unapologetically black.

Parks in Focus

Connecting Youth to Nature through Photography

Kamus Istilah

Yang Pernah Mbuat Aku Bingung

SamilzSays

Allow me to share what I'm learning along the way.

musingsofanoldfart

Independent views from someone who offers some historical context

Nicola Griffith

English-American in Seattle. Novelist.

The Ever and Ever That Fiction Allows

A scholarly blog on (young adult) literature, gender, and queer studies

Reading Matters

Book reviews of mainly modern & contemporary fiction

wishesofmen

a novel series by Chandraprakash

Onion & Artichoke

Purveyors of Fine Literary Reviews, Discussions of Modern Life, and Only Infrequent Eviscerations.

Kushite Kingdom

Dark Matter Consciousness!

BGR

Tech and entertainment news, reviews, opinions and insights

Silver Birch Press

New Voices in Fiction, Nonfiction, Plays & Poetry

Black Women of Brazil

The site dedicated to Brazilian women of African descent

MAD NEWS UK

Entertainment News & Everything In Between!

WOLB Talk 1010

Baltimore, Maryland, News, Talk, Radio

Bundle of Books

Thoughts from a bookworm

NEWS10 ABC

News 10 ABC, FOX 23, WTEN, WXXA, Albany, NY - Slideshows, Photos, News, Weather, and Sports from the Capital Region of New York, Western Massachusetts, and Southern Vermont

GOOD BLACK NEWS

Your Source For The Good Things Black People Do, Give and Receive All Over The World

Praise 104.1

Washington DC, Inspiration, Gospel, Radio, WPRS

The Edge of Autism

The journey back

Harford County Board of Elections

133 Industry Ln, Forest Hill, Md 21050 | 410 638 3565 | Elections@harfordcountymd.gov

Captain Awkward

Advice. Staircase Wit. Faux Pas. Movies.

The Rants of a Ghanaian!

The "Rants" expressed are my own, and generally unpopular with others.

Order of the Good Write

That Magic Feeling When the Words Flow. A Blog by Debi Rotmil

Quartz

Quartz is a digitally native news outlet for the new global economy.

love.life.eat

living a mindful life

Bookshelf Fantasies

A Life Amidst Books

Deidra Alexander's Blog

I have people to kill, lives to ruin, plagues to bring, and worlds to destroy. I am not the Angel of Death. I'm a fiction writer.

The Crunk Feminist Collective

Where Crunk Meets Conscious and Feminism Meets Cool

The Terror of Knowing

book reviews, student life, graduate woes etc. etc.

Dreaming of Espresso

...while reading...

Roadside Reader

book reviews from a reader on the go

CBS Baltimore

News, Sports, Weather, Traffic and the Best of Baltimore

Therapy Bits

The process of going through psychotherapy

PerceptuallyTrue

paradox, contradiction, and imperfection

Negra cubana tenía que ser

Un sitio sobre pensando desde el activismo