There was snow upon the ground,
snow held frozen in the clouds.
Ice was in the air
that prowled beside the prison walls.
The line was long that day.
It was often long
and many of the faces there
had come every day hoping for news or sight
of a beloved one who had disappeared
behind the terrible prison gates.
The winter without
the winter within
stole the words of day,
held silent the vigil
kept beside the prison walls.
Anna was there that day
not as invited guest, honored poet,
only as petitioner
another mother come seeking her son.
As Anna came to stand at the end of the line,
the woman before her turned to look at her
with eyes deep set with pain.
Recognizing the poet, the woman asked,
“Do you have the words for this?”
Anna replied, “I have.”
The woman bowed her head.
Thus consoled, she faced forward once again
to wait the silence out
until Anna, with a poet’s voice
could give her the words
to free the darkness from her soul.
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 APRIL 2024
April has several special days that might inspire a writer. Here’s a few:
THOUGH WE MUST PART
(Written for a friend)
Though not one rain cloud is near,
A raindrop slides slowly down my cheek
For I must say good-bye for now,
Even though I just learned how to say
Hello with a bit a love enclosed.
It is, now, too soon we must part.
So little of time and much too short
For silly quarrels and silent looks,
Repressed feelings or angry outbursts.
Too few, those moments of tenderness.
The quiet joys of a love embraced.
That soaring ecstasy of passion
When we chose to shut out the world.
Oh! So soon to have to say good-bye.
If you could only hear my voice,
Or feel the warmth of my light touch.
Dearest love, I shall look forward
To that day when you and I rejoin,
Nevermore to be apart again.
THE SHOW OF MONTHS
April themes elude me
My thoughts are all away
I know that April’s greening
And blue light tints the sky
Waiting now impatient
May is already preening
Across the stage she flaunts
Her flowers for all to see
Then June, upstaging, will appear
Thus it goes, on and on each year
Yet I find it quite enchanting
This April in greening time
Summer’s song is silent
Its music waits
Although this show
Goes on each year
It’s great to see
Each month appear
WITH THE POET’S VOICE (A Tribute to Anna Akmahtova)
There was snow upon the ground,
snow held frozen in the clouds.
Ice was in the air
that prowled beside the prison walls.
The line was long that day.
It was often long
and many of the faces there
had come every day hoping for news or sight
of a beloved one who had disappeared
behind the terrible prison gates.
The winter without
the winter within
stole the words of day,
held silent the vigil
kept beside the prison walls.
Anna was there that day
not as invited guest, honored poet,
only as petitioner
another mother come seeking her son.
As Anna came to stand at the end of the line,
the woman before her turned to look at her
with eyes deep set with pain.
Recognizing the poet, the woman asked,
“Do you have the words for this?”
Anna replied, “I have.”
The woman bowed her head.
Thus consoled, she faced forward once again
to wait the silence out
until Anna, with a poet’s voice
could give her the words
to free the darkness from her soul.
AUTHOR NOTES
GLASS RAIN—poetry by Margaret Roxby
“THE SHOW OF MONTHS” was found among the poet’s papers. It was perhaps sparked when the poet searched for a topic relevant to April, the National Poetry Month.
REFRACTIONS—an essay by Kathleen Roxby
“THOUGH WE MUST PART,” is included this week for April 2, National Reconciliation Day. The poem was found in the author’s notebook.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—the poetry of Kathleen Roxby
“WITH THE POET’S VOICE” is subtitled “A Tribute to Anna Akhmatova” which identifies the poet the author has chosen to highlight. The story is true and the author learned of it when watching a documentary of the poet’s life. Kathleen was familiar with Akhmatova’s poetry which Margaret Roxby introduced to her. Anna was considered an enemy of the USSR under Stalin for her poetry which she was forbidden to write. Because of her fame (she had been nominated for the Nobel), she was not arrested, but her son was imprisoned.-Anna did not stop writing, but exported her poems by excerpts as short as a line or two with international travelers who came to visit her. This story obviously inspired Kathleen.
#AnnaAkmatova
#nationalpoetrymonth
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 2025
UNTRAMMELED
If I cannot be free,
Then I wish not to be.
I must smell the wind,
Touch the sun’s warmth,
Walk where few men go,
Feel the grass between my toes,
To be alone when I think,
With friends when I talk.
If I cannot live this way,
Life is as a broken bough.
DEATH OF A VOLCANO
Miles and miles
Of rock and dried ashes
Roll across the desert floor
Far away the rounded cone
Testifies to a hot, boiling past