Santa Clauses: Short Poems from the North Pole
written by Bob Raczka and illustrated by Chuck Groenink
0 Comments
Santa Clauses: Short Poems from the North Pole
written by Bob Raczka and illustrated by Chuck Groenink Santa Clauses: Short Poems from the North Pole
written by Bob Raczka and illustrated by Chuck Groenink Santa Clauses: Short Poems from the North Pole
written by Bob Razcka and illustrated by Chuck Groenink Santa Clauses: Short Poems from the North Pole
written by Bob Raczka and illustrated by Chuck Groenink International Day of Non-Violence
"Live as it you were to die tomorrow, learn as if you were to live forever." Mahatma Ghandi 150th anniversary of his birth As nighttime rustles at my knee,
I stand in silent gravity and quietly continue chores of feeding leaves and sealing pores. While beetles whisper in my bark, while warblers roost in branches dark, I stretch my roots into the hill and slowly, slowly, drink my fill. A thousand crickets scream my name, yet I remain the same, the same. I do not rest, I do not sleep, and all my promises I keep: to stand while all the seasons fly, to anchor earth, to touch the sky. Oak After Dark from Dark Emperor & other poems of the night by Joyce Sidman from the poem "Outwitted", by Edwin Markham
He drew a circle that shut me out, Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout. But Love and I had the wit to win, We drew a circle that took him in! is where the Elk River falls
from a rocky and considerable height, turning pale with trepidation at the lip (it seemed from where I stood below) before it is unbuckled from itself and plummets, shredded, through the air into the shadows of a frigid pool, so calm around the edges, a place for water to recover from the shock of falling apart and coming back together before it picks up its song again, goes sliding around the massive rocks and past some islands overgrown with weeds and continues on its winding course, according to this camper's guide, then joins the Clearwater at its northern fork, which must in time find the sea where this and every other stream mistakes the monster for itself, sings its name one final time then feels the sudden sting of salt. from 'Nine Horses' by Billy Collins |
Marnielifelong traveler, Archives
May 2020
Categories
All
|