I
May comes in dressed with flowers wild.
It is a pole with ribbons streaming down
Around which children romp and play.
May is, also, blond, cute and mine
For whom, my heart grows ever fonder.
She seems almost an angel, at least to me.
How could I have been this lucky?
II
May is a cream and yellow blossom
That grows an apple you dare not eat.
May is also a word with which to ask
Permission to have almost anything
Including asking Susan for a kiss,
Or Grandma for a piece of fudge.
III
Come! Visit me in the month of May.
The sky is so blue, it aches the heart.
Soft breezes will caress your very soul.
No other breath of air smells as sweet.
Whichever wildflower you most desire,
You’ll find the choicest in May.
Yet, beware, for love strikes quickly, in May.
SUBMISSION GUIDELINES
Readers who write in response to one of the prompts listed each month in Splintered Glass, may see their work presented here on the last week of that month. Though poems are preferred, short prose work will also be considered for publication.
Guidelines for submission:
SPLINTERS FOR MAY 2025
THAT BEE
Within the vast sea of grass,
A single blossom dares to bloom.
From somewhere, one lone bee
Settles down among its petals.
Now life’s circle starts anew
With, perhaps, a sea of blossoms soon,
Because one single bee dared to venture
Far from the beaten path of life.
[POEM FOR MOTHERS]
Love, Love
None are so lonely
As a mother
Upon whom the sun has fallen
To cast a shadow in the son.
LIMESTONE
In a city’s grease and smoke
Limestone is gathered
by street cleaners for burial
As the refuse it has become.
For in a city it will blacken
And decompose…
Till, like a leper,
Its rotted parts simply drop off.
Wind buffeted in the desert
Limestone may lose to windburn
Some grains of itself.
Which may ride the sky
For as long as the air is turbulent
Then, in some far distant place,
fall silt-soft from the air.
Limestone will bleed in the rain,
It essence seeping
Deep into the earth
Where it heals in the dark
Forming calcite ripples
In deeply hidden caverns.
Or, melting imperceptibly,
It slips away into rivulets
flowing into gullies and rivers
till it gentles down
onto lake bed or sea floor.
AUTHOR NOTES
GLASS RAIN—the poetry by Margaret Roxby
“POEM FOR MOTHERS” is included for Mother’s Day. The poem was found among the author’s scribbles and had no title. She may have written this about herself, her own mother or others she knew.
REFRACTIONS—a poem by Robert Roxby
“THAT BEE” once again presents the author’s fascination with nature. The poem first appeared in his anthology, Reflections of a Lifetime, 2000.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—the poetry of Kathleen Roxby
“LIMESTONE” was inspired by a visit to London, England where she saw the limestone walls of Westminster peeling and dropping onto the sidewalk. The city had just established scaffolding to allow the walls to be washed clean and coal was no longer the primary source of heat in the city suggesting that the limestone would not soon return to this state.
SUBMISSION GUIDELINES
Readers who write in response to one of the prompts listed each month in Splintered Glass, may see their work presented here on the last week of that month. Though poems are preferred, short prose work will also be considered for publication.
Guidelines for submission:
SPLINTERS FOR MAY 2025
ALL ABOUT MAY
I
May comes in dressed with flowers wild.
It is a pole with ribbons streaming down
Around which children romp and play.
May is, also, blond, cute and mine
For whom, my heart grows ever fonder.
She seems almost an angel, at least to me.
How could I have been this lucky?
II
May is a cream and yellow blossom
That grows an apple you dare not eat.
May is also a word with which to ask
Permission to have almost anything
Including asking Susan for a kiss,
Or Grandma for a piece of fudge.
III
Come! Visit me in the month of May.
The sky is so blue, it aches the heart.
Soft breezes will caress your very soul.
No other breath of air smells as sweet.
Whichever wildflower you most desire,
You’ll find the choicest in May.
Yet, beware, for love strikes quickly, in May.
DANCE OF UNICORN
On starlit night
of silver moon
I dance
But
I dance
only for those
who chance to stray
into the mystery of moon-mist way