Yesterday’s unspent rain
And the night’s dew
Weigh down the sky
Above the mountains.
Like wisps of hand-pulled angel-hair,
The fog lies in tufts
Across the eastern ridges.
Higher and farther north,
The whited air brooms
Like the tail of the artic fox,
Into the narrow valleys.
On the farthest and highest slopes,
The sky-fall lies upon the mountain
As thick and heavy as the fur-rich
Winter coat of the polar bear.
The air tastes of frost
And lies upon my cheek
Like the touch of snow.
My breath forms in puffs
Like miniature clouds.
As the words I speak
Roll themselves into visibility,
I ponder the weight of them
As they hang for the moment
Before my eyes.
What if, I think, I could hold these words,
These thoughts, in my hands as solid objects?
What if it were possible to know the spoken word
As if it were tactile? What then? What would we learn
From examining the shape and texture
Of those word-clouds?
What would they teach us about our world?
#WinterandPoetry #CloudsandPoetry
Author’s Notes
GLASS RAIN—the poetry by Margaret Roxby
“THESE UNFORGOTTEN DREAMS” was once titled “New Dreams for Old?” That version was also shorter, but still inspired by the peddler/magician and lamp from the Aladdin story. The author rewrote the poem when she was part of a Round Robin* group of poets. This version first appeared in 1992 in Prize Poems, California Federation of Chaparral Poets.
*Poets who sent their poems to other poets for criticism. The poems continued circulating until each author received back their own poem with all the comments.
KALEIDOSCOPE—a series by Kathleen Roxby
“TO BE OR NOT TO BE” seemed to be an appropriate topic for the month when so many are thinking about resolutions for the New Year.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—the poetry of Kathleen Roxby
“WHEN A WINTER WIND SWEEPS ICE CRYSTALS THROUGH THE PASS YOU WILL HEAR THE HOWL OF THE SCAVENGERS” describes some of the neighbor children whose homes were not always happy. One family especially had a rough edge to their unspoken dissatisfaction with life. The author witnessed how time and again her parents, and grandmother, made the effort to welcome these children and to make them feel included and appreciated.
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 January 2021
WINTER MORNING
Yesterday’s unspent rain
And the night’s dew
Weigh down the sky
Above the mountains.
Like wisps of hand-pulled angel-hair,
The fog lies in tufts
Across the eastern ridges.
Higher and farther north,
The whited air brooms
Like the tail of the artic fox,
Into the narrow valleys.
On the farthest and highest slopes,
The sky-fall lies upon the mountain
As thick and heavy as the fur-rich
Winter coat of the polar bear.
The air tastes of frost
And lies upon my cheek
Like the touch of snow.
My breath forms in puffs
Like miniature clouds.
As the words I speak
Roll themselves into visibility,
I ponder the weight of them
As they hang for the moment
Before my eyes.
What if, I think, I could hold these words,
These thoughts, in my hands as solid objects?
What if it were possible to know the spoken word
As if it were tactile? What then? What would we learn
From examining the shape and texture
Of those word-clouds?
What would they teach us about our world?
#WinterandPoetry #CloudsandPoetry
LOTTERY-THOUGHT-ERY
I’d like the millions, believe me, I would!
And I’d joy to spend them knowing I could
Just take my ease without worry or pause
And extend my largesse to many a cause.
One question though. Can you advise?
Will winning the dough, and what that implies
Prove not half the fun of pie in the sky?
But I won’t think of that; let that thought just die.
If I win the millions, I’ll make a nice try
To be prudent and wise. O, why should I lie?
If the dream really happens, why, I’ll be so high
I know what I’ll do. I’ll buy and I’ll buy.
#LotteryHumor #LotteryAdvice #HumorandPoetry
NEW YEAR’S EVE
Another New Year’s Eve is almost here.
That’s seventy-nine now—for me.
At eighteen, freshly graduated from high school,
New Year’s Eve was fun.
Now, I am just too tired to shout.
Yet, life has been good to me.
I can’t run a mile or climb trees,
But how well I enjoy the sunsets.
Those old-time tunes being played
Remind me of those good times past.
When New Year’s Eve comes in this year,
No horns, no streamers, no drinks,
Just me and my wife by a warm fire
Watching the young on the “telly”
Having the time of their lives
While we will have a heck of a time
Trying to stay awake till midnight comes.
#NewYear’sEvePoetry #Aging
Author’s Notes
GLASS RAIN—the poetry by Margaret Roxby
“LOTTERY-THOUGHT-ERY”. Margaret enjoyed occasionally purchasing a lottery ticket, but she was far from a dedicated gambler. She could laugh at herself as seen in this poem.
REFRACTIONS
“NEW YEARS EVE” by Robert Roxby appeared in his collection, Reflections of a Lifetime.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—the poetry of Kathleen Roxby
“WINTER MORNING”, written during her first Winter in Santa Barbara, was inspired by the view from her bedroom window.
ANOTHER SPECTRUM
“2020 Farewell from USA” was born when the author received a blank book for a birthday present delivered belatedly at Christmas due to travel restrictions in 2020. The book bore a title suggesting it was for journal documenting this most different year. Soon after receiving the blank book, this poem woke the author in the night.
2020 Farewell from USA
2020, it’s time for you to go.
Hip, hip and tally ho!
You were a very bad year
Bringing only dread and fear.
As we heard the virus’ facts,
Reluctantly we wore our masks.
We all send a cheer and a shout:
2020, it’s time to bow out.
Alone, we longed for persons missed,
For warm hugs and to be kissed.
Now, we eagerly wait for 2021
Hoping for a little fun.
For happy visits to many places
Filled to the brim with smiling faces.
We all gather for the old “heave-ho”–
2020, it’s time for you to go.
We’ll try to forget, but never will.
Thoughts of you will always chill.
As we chant tonight, “10-9-8-”
At the opened gate,
2020, don’t you be late.
We’re here to say, “Good-bye, old mate.”
It’s past time for you to go.
As you do, we’ll send a cheer:
Hip, hip, and tally-ho!
And bid welcome to a brand new year.
Splinters for December 2020
For December, consider one of the following to spur your writing.
CHRISTMAS AWAKENING
I felt the footfall of a dream
steal up the stairs of my heart
Ecstatic, silent, heard it impart
the wonder of His story
And all my soul within grew bright
In the dream I too beheld the light
#ChristmasPoetry #ChristmasMeaning