poetry friday

Poetry Friday: Home for Christmas


vintage postcard via AllPosters.com
Christmas Eve has found me, where the light shines bright… 

I'm no poet, but this morning feels almost lyrical. 
The sky is a velvety black jewelry box, brimming with diamonds and silver.
A candle glows warm in the kitchen.
White lights twinkle among the branches of our tree, tiny spotlights for handmade treasures.
Your emails and blog entries sparkle on my screen. We play, sing, and rejoice with one another, and my heart is exceedingly glad.

I am home for Christmas, in that magical place where the lovelight gleams, and I can't believe I'm not dreaming. 

Poetry Friday: Still I Rise

I’m not a huge fan of poetry, maybe because it feels less accessible to me than other forms of writing. But I love Poetry Fridays, because the aficionados among us are teaching me how to crack them open.  (For instance, Jeannine Atkins showed me How To Paint The Portrait of A Bird this morning. That poem sings to me, it surely does.)

Over time, I’ve accumulated a small collection of poems that resonate with me, for whatever reason. Here, Maya Angelou — one of my favorite authors — reads one of my all-time favorite poems, Still I Rise. Penned in 1978, it resonates in these difficult times like it was written just yesterday. The imagery is exquisite. The message? Universal, transcendant, triumphant.
 

Site Meter

Another nail in their coffins?

Mathematicians as Vampire Slayers? Who knew? Apparently, calculus is the garlic necklace around the scientific community’s collective neck.

“Proof” that vampires don’t exist? Meh, it might be bad news for some of you, but it doesn’t exactly drive a stake through this wussy-girl’s heart. However, I’ve got a lot of writer friends who make their bones writing fantasy lit, and I confess that over time, I’ve grown more curious about the worlds and characters they write about. Still, I’m skeptical. And a scaredy-cat. Yep, that just about sums it up.

One day, I might be brave enough to read a vampire story all the way through. Under a cozy blanket and with all the lights on, of course. Meantime, and for Poetry Friday, I thought it’d be fun to sink our teeth into this little Shel Silverstein piece.

MONSTERS I’VE MET

I met a ghost, but he didn’t want my head,
He only wanted to know the way to Denver.
I met a devil, but he didn’t want my soul,
He only wanted to borrow my bike awhile.
I met a vampire, but he didn’t want my blood,
He only wanted two nickels for a dime.
I keep meeting all the right people—
At all the wrong times.

Have a great weekend, everyone! May all your monsters be imaginary — and only as scary as you want them to be.
http://dg.specificclick.net/?u=http%3A//www.livejournal.com/stc/fck/editor/fckeditor.html%3FInstanceName%3Ddraft%26Toolbar%3DUpdate&r=http://dg.specificclick.net/?u=http%3A//www.livejournal.com/stc/fck/editor/fckeditor.html%3FInstanceName%3Ddraft%26Toolbar%3DUpdate&r=