Springtime returns, burdened with poetry. Tulips nod by the water lily-dotted pool where layer upon joyous layer of color brightens.…
Browsing: poetry
In the crisp clear air of winter nipping at autumn’s backside, the neighbor’s persimmon tree stands two and a half…
Curator’s Statement – Lorraine Currelley It was my honor to curate Mom Egg VOX Gallery, January…
You, little movie theatre in Harlem, two blocks from my home, Do you remember how you took Mama and me…
for Beckett Rose before they took you from your bed inside me, before they made that exploratory sleuce through exoderm,…
The women of my grandmother’s line are cloaked in polished oak. Their nipples bare, silk of budding blooms. I know…
My Nephew’s teeth are straight like swans in a row better than ducks pretty target for foe I worry about…
My mother died last May. She lived to sew her own designs dressed her only daughter like a baby doll…
My daughter has blossomed into a beautiful butterfly, She has learned to stop and smell the roses while avoiding bee…
Sometimes I raise my hand to brush the curl from the left side of my face but it is only…