Charlotte, the imagist, I give you a dream, one that leaves you stunned upon the waking, for this is your poetry. Your stanzas dance with meanings, symbols in cymbals, the red in what’s read. How your lines spin, fly and fall. Sleep, now, and experience the rationalized fantastical that you pen. Come, wonder-wander in the missed-mist, soon.
Elizabeth, the young of heart, I give to you an extra hour a day. Poet and painter, stretching each minute dawn to dusk, you capture romantic renderings in watercolor and rhyme. Darling lady, how you outwit time! Your hands are never still nor is your imaginative, active mind. Lizzy, the sun should yield to you. How bright you live.
Gwendolen, the kind, I give you a fairy ring where anything may happen. What whimsy you bring, that and a quiet harmony. Your poetry shifts from funny to thoughtful, tender always, never rough. When we are shadowed, when the dark rumbles, you are the will o’ wisp that tickles. The ethereal deserves the magical. Go, then secrets reveal!
Joann, the all seeing, I give you a frame that you may use however you wish. You ink words sparingly, precisely, to capture your view(s). Your lines need no thick border, no gold embossing. Simplicity is art, this you know, so all I offer is an appreciative casing, a mosaic of global glass, which like your verse, only clarifies what it magnifies.
Kathryn, the humble, I give you a candle, wide and tall. It’s wax is unlike your poetry, miniatures that breathe sighs. Readers immediately recognize honesty, their natural beauty. The candle is for a window sill or whatever table rebirths those memories. May it glow like you do, illuminating all those daily joys, tears, glimmers, flickers and all.
*Poets, Charlotte Puddifoot, Elizabeth Wesley, Gwendolen Rix, Joann Grisetti and Kathryn Collins are those quiet(er) souls who move amongst those of us who are loud, tankard slamming, wordy misfits. Their poetry is special. Each has a strong voice, a style recognizable. Bless you Modest Poets, and Merry Christmas to each of you!