Emily was born
inside of a poem
Without the belabor
of words in her knowing
Ending each lyric
before it began
No start and no finish
— in place where she ran
(Amherst Massachusetts: September, 2026)
In the children’s ward of a hospital,
Through the W.P.A.*
A 16-panel mural
Was, for patients, on display.
The artist, Abram Champanier,
In 1938,
Took the Lewis Carroll characters
From “Alice” to create
A tale of Wonderland’s whole cast
As they visited each site
Of the city of New York
To fill the children with delight.
So there on Lady Liberty,
The subway and the zoo,
The Empire State and Steeplechase,
Are Alice and her crew.
The building was abandoned
After years and it was marked
For a renovation, so a group
Of volunteers embarked
On a plan to save the murals,
Which they managed to preserve.
Our gratitude is not enough
To give what they deserve.
The restoration took some years
And now they are on view.
A museum** in New York is where
I saw them; so can you.
How wonderful to have a chance
To see each vibrant scene
And to reinforce the joy of art
And how much it can mean.
*Works Progress Administration
**Museum of the City of New York
old dog follows me
to mossy covered gravestone
where his owner lies
As a young child my mind goes back to Tom,
a pure dark gray old tom cat.
We went visiting in the town next door,
when Tom took up with me.
The neighbors said,
they had never seen him before.
We took him home,
giving him a bath then food and milk.
I dressed him up in my doll clothes,
then gave him a baby bottle of cold milk.
Tom was my real baby doll disguised as a cat,
and he loved it.
We both had many wonderful hours of fun,
as Tom got extra rubs with cold milk.
toilet seat cover of ruffly fluffy pink
she wore it on her head, my grandma Link
danced around the hallway, bragged about zinc
said, “this cover is as soft as a corn-fed mink!”
No one else in the old folk’s home gave a blink
even though she looked a tad rinky-dink
nurses said they were writing this in her chart in ink
I don’t care, she said, giving me a sassy saucy wink.
Rainclouds threaten in the distance
The meadow ushers a subtle silent warning
Butterflies promptly take their leave
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
the lush thick Amazon jungle is teeming with life
jaguars are quickly becoming endangered
as is the pink river dolphin and the giant otter
sadly, hunters have taken most of them out
the rivers and streams of the Amazon host millions of species
many of them have not yet been identified by scientists
these animals may not exist any where else in the world.
The Amazon is a unique home for aquatic animals.
the forest canopy resonates with the cries of howler monkeys
answering bird calls come into play in the form of whistles and chirps
was that a zebra finch? It might be, or the whine of insects
The Amazon is an experience you will find nowhere else, ever.
When visiting a mansion
That’s become a restoration,
It’s cool to see a property
That’s way above your station.
The verdant lawns with giant trees,
The gardens all in bloom,
The stained glass in the windows
Of each river-facing room…
The made-to-order furniture,
The statues and the art,
The butler’s pantry where the fancy
Dinners get their start…
The books in leather bindings
Lined up neatly on the shelves,
The lamps and fixtures next to chairs
Where folks relaxed themselves.
It’s fun to fantasize about
The life styles of the rich.
I wonder, though, how they would fare
In my house, for a switch.
"Etched in stone- names of honored souls-
remembering their roles and goals."
_by Poet
Oh, cemetery- at your rusted gate,
I stand before it for a while and wait
to gather thoughts of those I know are here-
both family and friends, to me, so dear
beneath the velvet blanket of spring grass,
embraced forever from their earthly pass;
with monuments above etched with a name
and span of life on Earth, we can acclaim.
The cemetery grants me space to think
of my connections- how they interlink
with kin and classmates resting here right now-
and hope they feel I'm missing them somehow.
I walk in slowly, shut the gate behind-
to visit those where I feel love enshrined.
Sheila had never felt this cold
Her feet were pink and freezing
She needed a new pair of socks
Her grandmother gave her two pairs
Put them on top of each other, she said
Sheila’s teeth were chattering
She could not get warm
I will add kindling to the wood stove said Gram
She also brought the quilt off her bed
Sheila stood next to the stove until she felt warm
With her grandmother’s quilt around her shoulders
Why did you come out in this cold? Asked her grandmother
I wanted to see if you were okay, the girl said.
I have food, water, and warmth, said grandma.
Let’s call your mother to see if you can stay the night.
No one should be out in a storm like this.
Naturally, Sheila’s mother said yes.
Grateful that her daughter and mother were safely inside for the evening.
I came to dance to my song;
to move well and rhythmically, but not for too long
To dance like nobody's watching, just feeling the groove;
moving like nobody's business with nothing to prove...
I came to do my part.
To give, receive, and come straight from the heart
To make a difference wherever and whenever I can
Wondering while wandering with purpose across the land...
I came to learn some vital lessons:
to study to show myself approved and embrace the blessons
To be ashamed to leave until I have won some victory for humanity
So dance, I will, with no superficiality
Standing on dry leaves
My boots is cracking every step
Looking at boots print push behind
The only imprint you see big in the middle
Aside from this crackling sound
Strong wind playing the leaves to and from
Fanning my warm body to chilling effect
This is what forest gives lungs a freebies
Rejuvinate a heart that wearysome yesterday
Remembering once more reviving youthful advocacy
Though life is now brimming with old age
Panthom is calling for disgrace fate
Finding hope in the midst of the forest
One may wish breathing the fresh air
May change the perspective of life revitalizing
When facing back the harbor of city life.
I missed the river
The way the full moon hangs low over the horizon
The streams of its light bouncing off the ripples in the dark water
The scent of sand and shell
Driftwood
The feel of perfectly polished stones in my hands
The wind that gently tugs at my soul drawing me closer
Pulling me in
While I sit on the banks with your ghost
Hanging on the parlor wall,
over paper the color of leaves in fall,
is a magnificent painting.
Full of hopes and dreams,
and all those things,
full of life and love and color.
It is masterfully done
(and "masterfully" hung).
From my plush chair, I admire it.
Tilting my head from side to side,
and closing one eye,
examining the brush strokes.
It is unique in every way.
The best I’ve seen this day,
but there is one thing I can’t ignore.
One thing that should never be said,
a haunting group of words that bring dread.
“It is... off center.”
Visiting my father
I met my brother in the town where he was
on his way to see our father and wanted
me to tag along
He, our dad, lived in an old house and
surprised to see his youngest son also
He brought beer from the kitchen and
my brother and he spoke about labor
politics
I was at the time a communist and had
contempt for those not sharing my faith
After all, I had spent several days at
a hospital in Odessa, where doctors wore
tall white hats, a chef would envy
My father avoided looking my way
I sat reading a newspaper, looking him over
He was of middle height and still had dark
hair, slim, I wondered if he was a kven
The first time I saw him in 1948, he was
drunk gave me a bar of chocolate with
photo of a female film star inside the wrapper
He was much older now, rolled hand-made
cigarettes and had a cough
That was the last time I met my father
when he died at seventy-five, I was as
usual absent
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