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Categories
Category Archives: Poetry
The Invitation of the Bench in the Garden
The luxury of two benches in my garden gives me a seat to contemplate the other, nestled between astilbe and hosta, empty in the shade-dappled sun. It faces the jade-green birdbath tall among geraniums, sun glinting on the rippling water, … Continue reading →
Posted in Poetry, Stories of Home
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Tagged contemplation, garden, garden bench, poem, poetry
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Black and White
Back when Robbo and I were new parents, I used to host poetry parties. I believed life was more than work, food, and sleep, and that our souls needed to be fed on poetry in the company of good friends. … Continue reading →
Posted in Literature, Poetry, Stories of Home, Writing about writing
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Tagged church, depression, faith, fellowship, friends, poetry, Robert Frost, The Onset, winter
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Anyone can write poetry
I want to write. When I write well and that magic thing happens, that long silky ribbon of of words that surprises even me, my soul sighs, profoundly content. It is like the winter yearning of my friend Aula to get … Continue reading →
Posted in Poetry, Writing about writing
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Tagged Billy Collins, How to Read a Poem, poetry, Seamus Heaney, Tania Runyan, Ted Kooser, The Poetry Home Repair Manual, writing
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The Art of Conversation at the Thanksgiving Table
Classical Conversations just republished an article of mine on Throwback Thursday, that widely popular gift to harried editors. They get a reprieve from chasing down temperamental writers one day a week, and good articles get another airing. A few years … Continue reading →
Posted in Art, Classical Conversations, Culture, Literature, Poetry, Stories of Home
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Tagged conversation, family, food, holidays, Thanksgiving, Writer's Circle
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Thoughts on “A Snowy Evening”
Rain falls on the tin roof outside my office window. No snow tonight; it isn’t even in the forecast for the week. Nevertheless, I am thinking of snow, as I have been reading Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a … Continue reading →
Black and White
Back when Robbo and I were new parents, I used to host poetry parties. I believed life was more than work, food, and sleep, and that our souls needed to be fed on poetry in the company of good friends. … Continue reading →
Posted in Literature, Poetry, Stories of Home, Writing about writing
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Tagged church, depression, faith, fellowship, friends, poetry, Robert Frost, The Onset, winter
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4 Comments
The Open Bridge
It is cold outside. In fact, the forecast for this week is for highs and lows all below freezing. While it was around 25 degrees this afternoon, I took my bike out for a short ride because, like nearly every … Continue reading →
Posted in Art, Biking, Culture, Literature, Poetry, Stories of Home
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Tagged Biking, bridge, poesy, poetry
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4 Comments
The Joy Dare
It’s embarrassing. A drive through two years of blog posts uncovers a pattern of depression and anxiety in the late fall and winter. If I have joy in the sunlight and new growth of spring and summer, it all shrivels … Continue reading →
Dinner Conversation
All done. No more. I quit. The vacuous, barbarian, stoopid comments that drool out of my family’s mouths at the dinner table have to go. At the end of the day I lack the creativity to start and guide good … Continue reading →
Coloring Between the Lines
I drive up to church earlier than my family because I help lead the singing that opens Sunday School. As I drove up today through the valleys to Woodstock I peered hungrily through frosty car windows, looking for anything to … Continue reading →
Letters from Heart's Content 