All the days of our lives are like a diary,
Each day a fresh page on which to write
Or scribble, if you please, what happened to you.
If we open my diary, as I often do,
Here you will find only a scribbled page.
At least it looks like that to you and you.
But this day I used a very secret code
To keep for myself some special notes
That are only for me to see.
And here again, with this page,
Listen very quietly and you will hear
Faint music singing of a happy day.
Many such pages appear at the time
As I was so young and blissfully innocent then.
Yet here is a page too painful to read.
How can we be so cruel to one we love?
What hidden meanness in me struck at one
So near and dear and caused such pain?
And this page scribbled across in green ink?
You will never get a hint of that day.
Now this one is filled with joy and laughs.
If I could just have that to live again….
But, then, this day would not have been:
We won the championship in Track that day.
My simple medallion was so truly cherished—
Though it soon tarnished and was put away.
I never seem to remember where it was kept.
How can you be near and yet so far away
To someone dear and not know she’s there?
This one from the other side of town and Irish.
It was many years later we finally met
And now my life is fulfilled as it had never been.
Perhaps this might not have been so
If we had been neighbors and never been friends,
Because of too much closeness—so young and too soon.
Does this diary really exist or is it just a fantasy
Conjured in the mind?
Perhaps, a last page I’ll scribble on until
It scribbles off the page, then you will know
That this diary has never really been.
#Memoir #Aging #Diaries
A Celebration
Last night I heard America singing
A thousand voices all in a unison of sound
Speaking in tongues that ranged the universe
Yet all were singing one theme song.
And as they sang, there came upon the stage
Dancers as diverse as America’s stock.
From across the world, they had come
All reaching for that one great prize
A freedom to speak, to act, or to dance
As each sought a way to express
Their fondest dreams and highest hopes.
As I watched, a kaleidoscope unfolded
Of voices gloriously singing the songs
That spring from the soul of Americans
Shhh! Don’t talk, just listen to that
Unfolding saga as dedicated humans
Attempt to say that this is my America.
#Patriotism #MeltingPot #Americana #NationalPride #Patriotism
AUTHOR NOTES
GLASS RAIN—the poetry by Margaret Roxby
“FOR NYLE,” describes a scene in the author’s family and the singer is her father’s brother. He was soon to receive an invitation to audition for the New York Metropolitan Opera, but he died from a recurring fever he developed while serving in Cuba during WWI. The poem is included this week in honor of Happiness Day. Note: the song “Poor Butterfly” was first published in the summer of 1916.
REFRACTIONS—a poem by Robert Roxby
“A CELEBRATION,” was selected this week in honor of Quilting Day, as the elements in the poem are like that fabric pieces in a quilt. It first appeared in his anthology, Reflections on a Lifetime.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—the poetry of Kathleen Roxby
“YEARNING TO TALK POETRY” was written after the death of the poet’s mother who is the “you” in the poem. It is included this week for World Poetry Day.
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 MARCH 2022
CABLE LIFE
Like snakes lying in wait
In jungle trees, under bushes,
Coaxial cable loops the stairs,
The floors and dangles
From the ceiling
Of my home.
My life is tangled, strangled
In coaxial cable.
Come save me.
Teach me again
About the sky
And how to breathe in the rain.
#CommunicationAndTechnology #HomeTechnology #TechnologyImpact #LifeWithTechnology
COMMENT, A Concrete Poem
WAIT!
pun ment ish
Make prime crime
Make crime prime
time the
to fit
to time
fit the
Make prime time crime
Make crime time the in
PUNISH!
MAKE!
FIT!
Wake
to make
The punishment
fit the crime
in prime time
Pun Ment Ish
Ish. Ish.
Ish?
W
A
K
E
!
#Mikado #NewsCritic #BroadcastSchedules
THE DIARY
All the days of our lives are like a diary,
Each day a fresh page on which to write
Or scribble, if you please, what happened to you.
If we open my diary, as I often do,
Here you will find only a scribbled page.
At least it looks like that to you and you.
But this day I used a very secret code
To keep for myself some special notes
That are only for me to see.
And here again, with this page,
Listen very quietly and you will hear
Faint music singing of a happy day.
Many such pages appear at the time
As I was so young and blissfully innocent then.
Yet here is a page too painful to read.
How can we be so cruel to one we love?
What hidden meanness in me struck at one
So near and dear and caused such pain?
And this page scribbled across in green ink?
You will never get a hint of that day.
Now this one is filled with joy and laughs.
If I could just have that to live again….
But, then, this day would not have been:
We won the championship in Track that day.
My simple medallion was so truly cherished—
Though it soon tarnished and was put away.
I never seem to remember where it was kept.
How can you be near and yet so far away
To someone dear and not know she’s there?
This one from the other side of town and Irish.
It was many years later we finally met
And now my life is fulfilled as it had never been.
Perhaps this might not have been so
If we had been neighbors and never been friends,
Because of too much closeness—so young and too soon.
Does this diary really exist or is it just a fantasy
Conjured in the mind?
Perhaps, a last page I’ll scribble on until
It scribbles off the page, then you will know
That this diary has never really been.
#Memoir #Aging #Diaries
AUTHOR NOTES
GLASS RAIN—the poetry by Margaret Roxby
“COMMENT,” is a playful construction based on the well-known song in The Mikado by Gilbert and Sullivan. It is included this week in honor of All You Do Is Right Day, though this is a stretch.
REFRACTIONS—a poem by Robert Roxby
“THE DIARY,” was according to the author “written just in fun.” It is included this week for Write Your Own Story Day. It first appeared in his anthology, Reflections on a Lifetime.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—the poetry of Kathleen Roxby
“CABLE LIFE” was written while the author was in the midst of a home remodel project. It is included this week for Awkward Moments Day.
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 MARCH 2022