Sitting here on the old bald-top hill,
The quietness of the summit is so intense
I can hear a lone cricket sounding near,
Chirping birds and rustling leaves.
The steel mill below is a muffled roar.
Far off is the clickety-clack of a railroad train,
The whistle from the steamboat
Seems to blend with a child’s vibrant squeal.
The sounds from trucks, cars and people below
Create a strangely beautiful symphonic melange.
Our river flowing gently and endlessly
Runs between two long continuous ridges
Dressed with trees interspersed with homes
And the sculpted frieze on our inner city:
Office buildings, church steeples and tenements.
Lace-like bridges connect our city to the other one
Across that long breadth of river.
A string of factories and steel mill mills
Confronts an army of dirty faced homes
Running east, then south beside the river.
The older, yet still stately, homes are to the north.
A brisk wind shuts out the view
With low flying clouds and raindrops,
Leaving me with the wind’s whistling
And memories of an unforgettable tapestry—
The most beautiful home I ever will know.
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 2025
AUTHOR NOTES
GLASS RAIN—the poetry by Margaret Roxby
“WHAT’S IN A NAME?” This is another scrap from the poet’s desk and was not titled by this author. The piece appears for National Compliment and National Belly Laugh Day, January 24. The author often expressed such an opininion. She had her problem with name as a child. Friends and family called her “Peg.” Teachers had to learn. Later at work it became both “Marg” or “Margaret.”
REFRACTIONS—the poetry of Robert Roxby
In “MY LADY WITH THE JOYFUL LAUGH,” the author once-again tells of his love for his wife.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—the poetry of Kathleen Roxby
“HOW LIKE A GREEDY CHILD” is included this week as a nod to National Compliments Day, January 24. However, some may find this selection inappropriate, except in a backhanded sort of way. Even with the zinger at the close. The subject considered the author a very close friend.
MY LADY WITH THE JOYFUL LAUGH
She had such joyful laughter.
It had the lilt of love.
You could hear a love song in it.
Beauty seemed to peal out its bells.
How could love seem so alive?
My heart thumped in tune
As my body kept marking time.
Was I in love with her laugh?
Maybe I was in love with laughter,
Especially such a lilting laugh.
Did I hear a soul having fun?
Only a soul in love is so merry.
Give a laugh like that to love
That I might not know depressed love!
What beauty she had, and so easily
Expressed and so merry—
My lady with the joyous laugh.
WHAT’S IN A NAME?
Fragrance and color
Enchanting through the day
Each hour
Of roses, roses
With the unlikely names
Of sterling silver
And Eiffel tower.
HOW LIKE A GREEDY CHILD
How like a greedy child you are—
Eagerly grasping every good thing
That comes along
As if it were designed just for you
Always coaxing for some new treat
Never satisfied with the all
That you have received
How childlike your joy
And the trusting in the goodness
Of your friends
Yet, somehow, innocent of true greed
You generously share
All your Little-Jack-Horner wonder
Blessing our lives
With laughter
And calling from us
The better selves we can be
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 2025
AUTHOR NOTES
GLASS RAIN—the poetry by Margaret Roxby
“THE LAND OF BEYOND.” This poet was fascinated by fantasy and science from her youth. Such ideas teased her mind to dream and she had a brilliant and active one. One of her particularly favorite stories from youth was that of Arnheim. She returned to it more than once in her writing. This piece itself is a scrap found among her papers.
KALEIDOSCOPE—the poetry of Robert Roxby
“THE VALLEY” is included this week for National Nothingness Day, January 16. This describes the world of the poet’s youth. Is it any wonder that he returns to it again and again?
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—the poetry of Kathleen Roxby
“PRACTICING CHI” is also included this week as a nod to National Nothingness Day. The author thought it was particularly appropriate. The poet was introduced to Chi in a park in Hong Kong on a visit before China reclaimed this throng of people. She found the daily practice of this art truly impressed her. She now lives near an old woman who can be seen going through her moves in the public park area of their condo complex.
THE VALLEY
Sitting here on the old bald-top hill,
The quietness of the summit is so intense
I can hear a lone cricket sounding near,
Chirping birds and rustling leaves.
The steel mill below is a muffled roar.
Far off is the clickety-clack of a railroad train,
The whistle from the steamboat
Seems to blend with a child’s vibrant squeal.
The sounds from trucks, cars and people below
Create a strangely beautiful symphonic melange.
Our river flowing gently and endlessly
Runs between two long continuous ridges
Dressed with trees interspersed with homes
And the sculpted frieze on our inner city:
Office buildings, church steeples and tenements.
Lace-like bridges connect our city to the other one
Across that long breadth of river.
A string of factories and steel mill mills
Confronts an army of dirty faced homes
Running east, then south beside the river.
The older, yet still stately, homes are to the north.
A brisk wind shuts out the view
With low flying clouds and raindrops,
Leaving me with the wind’s whistling
And memories of an unforgettable tapestry—
The most beautiful home I ever will know.