A Recipe with Missing Ingredients
I don’t have cream of tartarand I never zest the lemon,crossing my fingers that clovewill stand in for cardamom.Still, I point to the recipeand tell you I made it—though I didn’t havehalf of what it called for.
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Bed in Summer
If you’re looking to start reading poetry regularly in your family, Robert Louis Stevenson’s A Child’s Garden of Verses is an excellent place to begin. You may be surprised at how some of the poems are already familiar to you! The following poem is one of our favorites from the collection, and it comes first…
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Kingdom of Tales
What a gift is yours, my friend, What treasure in your care!Beyond the “Once”, before “the end”,Such Kingdoms vast and fair!The mighty Kingdom of High TaleWhere many swords have shined Will open to you without fail;Its keys are in your mind!The narrow Road, the tower gateOf gold and diamonds wrought Will open wide with winds…
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My Constant Companion
Editor’s note: As you may know, we occasionally like to feature young authors and poets here at Story Warren. Today’s poem is a debut submission from Madison Horn. Enjoy! My Constant Companion By Madison Horn I don’t remember when I met him.Nor the date or the hour.I only know from the stories that I have…
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My Kite
Oh, what a joy to fly my kitebeneath the silver cloak of night!The moon a thousand times shall lightits canvas and its strings.The wind blows it all around—sometimes straight into the ground!My mind wanders both to thoughts profoundand to little, silly things.I pull my kite down on its ropeand peer into my telescope;doing this, I…
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Beads and Buttons: A Poem
Do you want to see all the beads and buttons I’ve found? Yes, I do want to see them.Crystal, glass, pony, seed,fake pearl, plastic gold—maybe they were part of broken bracelets,or a necklace never strung, the threadfallen away like a cut lock of hair.Maybe they were loosely sewnto a lady’s shirt—an old, old lady,as old…
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Left in the Rain
Left in the Rain One sodden sockand anotherdotting the yardlike strange flowers.Treasure Islandswollen up,laid butterfly to dry.In a plastic bowl,bloated Goldfishcrackers swim.A polka-dot rain jacket,discarded, shieldsa patch of grass.Chalk portraits, cities,my children’s names,tattooing our driveway:all erasedNew baptized, thesetender leaves push upfrom the dirt. Image by Kireyonok_Yuliya
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A Poem for National Foster Care Day
When we were training for foster care, we were asked to list our five most sustaining relationships, comforts, or interests. Then the trainer called out numbers, and we had to cross off things. I had to cross off my husband, my home, my books. The trainer called out another number. I crossed off my church…
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Bare Branches in Spring
Cragged boughs reach skyward, arms stretched,Straining for the light,for that blistering blue,For the mirror-bright facet of a jewel. Fingers splay wide but the wind buffets joints,Bending them to the breaking point.Trunks break like brittle bones.Arms crack and splinter under the strain. Twigs shed like so many feathers,Littering avenue and forest floor with pine-thick fronds,The discarded…
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A Liturgy for Parents in the Springtime Busyness
O God of new beginnings, whose hand brings both the dripping rain and the warming afternoon sun, by which You call forth new life: bluebirds nesting, peonies sprouting, daffodils blooming; we thank you for the hopeful promise of spring. With the awakening of our blood after winter lethargy, it seems that suddenly every moment is…
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Ice Cream Sky
Sometimes when the clouds go on vacation and the sun glows for squinting, the sky becomes a big, bulging dome of ice cream. Not like the sunrise kind, which promises spicy chunks of peachy charcoal and mangonada; nor yet the sticky sunset of sweet turmeric and studded strawberry. No, this sky is an energetic, milky,…
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Poetry for the Lazy Hazy Days of Summer (pt. 2)
(Click here to read if you missed pt. 1) As I shared last time, summer is a wonderful time to enjoy poetry. My favorite way to enjoy poetry is just to enjoy it… enjoy the words, the images, and what it brings to mind. Don’t worry about what a poem is about. Allow yourself and…
