Tag Archives: poetry

the sound of scampering.

It’s not hard to pinpoint reasons
for leaving the back door wide open while showering
Bob Dylan covers
mixing with the backyard bird show
that’s been playing
since a quarter of seven,
when you wanted to call whoever was awake
hold your phone up and hope
they never asked why? and at this hour?
wandering out mostly naked after
to say hello to a fast-acting scaredy cat,
trying again to conjure up a name
for the red flowers exploding on the fence,
each temporary havens to the ants,
hearing squirrels’ feet on branches above,
the sound of scampering,
beauty borrowed for some minutes,
the postcard so few are allowed to see.
 
And they wonder why you daydream
at your desk those hours later
with your wandering heart
as they scurry on with their day,
squirrels on their branches,
words coming out like birdsongs
you wouldn’t open a window to hear.
 
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shake the dust: a thanksgiving poem.

Hope you all are snuggled up with your family and enjoying the day off! I’m snuggled up with the Mouse fam and I’m already stuffed full of cheese eggs and “making stuffing” (read: writing this post while Miss Mouse chops things). My high school was supposedly in the Macy’s Parade, but I didn’t see them, so I’m beginning to suspect I’ve been lied to.

Anywho, I heard this poem recently and I think it’s beautiful, and somehow appropriate for Thanksgiving. Hopefully you agree:

Gobble gobble.

[Posted by Mallory]

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mal’s hippie quote of the day.

Peace love and hippies, man

As I’ve mentioned, I’m on vacation with my family up in the mountains. We’ve had a lot of time for lounging around on the gorgeous back porch, which overlooks the mountains, and while lounging I’ll read almost anything. That includes The Oprah Magazine. Yeah yeah, I know. But I’ve actually read a lot of interesting things that I want to share with you! The first is the following excerpt from a poem called “Sweet Darkness,” by David Whyte:

You must learn one thing.
The world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds
except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
confinement of your aloneness
to learn

anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive

is too small for you.

Great, right? (Read the rest of the poem here, and please ignore the terrible Comic Sans font.)

[Posted by Mallory]

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