There must be a small town somewhere
Just waiting for me to put down roots—
With one main street, one small park,
Trees growing along side of every house,
Old-fashioned trellises with trailing roses,
White picket fences, a dandelion or two,
Nearby farms to hug the town,
And sunlight that is just right.
Neighbors chat across back fences
As their children romp, playing games.
There may even be a hummingbird.
I could host a backyard neighbors’ feast
And perhaps, join them in a short hike
Through the nearby forested hills.
Sure hope to find that small town soon.
Stranger, can you help me find my town?
INVISIBLE
Is my being so unlike,
Unknown, unseen
That like some dark star
only a subtle change
in the pattern of other lives
Suggests that I may be?
Is there no astrologer
No physicist
No mathematician
Who might at least
Suspect the hint of me?
Or shall I cease to be
Before even one
Briefly dreams
That I once was?
AUTHOR NOTES
GLASS RAIN—the poetry by Margaret Roxby
“LITTLE DOVE,” may be a reference to the biblical story of the bird which brought evidence of land to the long water-trapped ship piloted by Noah. Having lived through both WW1, WW2, the Korean conflict, and seen the struggles of the Depression, and the Viet Nam era and Civil Rights Movement, the author set a great value on peace making it equal or nearly so to love.
REFRACTIONS—the poetry by Robert Roxby
“87” was written when the author had been a widower for eight years. As an introvert growing up with ten brothers, he learned to treasure the gentler natures of his mother and sisters. This attitude he carried with him all his life as reflected in this poem which was found in his poet’s journal.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—works by Kathleen Roxby
“INVISIBLE” is included this week for December 12, National Ding a Ling Day (contact someone not reached out to in some time).
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 DECEMBER 2024
SMALL TOWN
There must be a small town somewhere
Just waiting for me to put down roots—
With one main street, one small park,
Trees growing along side of every house,
Old-fashioned trellises with trailing roses,
White picket fences, a dandelion or two,
Nearby farms to hug the town,
And sunlight that is just right.
Neighbors chat across back fences
As their children romp, playing games.
There may even be a hummingbird.
I could host a backyard neighbors’ feast
And perhaps, join them in a short hike
Through the nearby forested hills.
Sure hope to find that small town soon.
Stranger, can you help me find my town?
THE INSTRUMENT
The tree flamed
a lone amber flower
on a silent plain
The mind stirred
there fell the sound
of golden rain
And I am filled
with wonder now:
how that amber power
the silent tree
on the lonely plain
sang golden fire
rang golden rain
Palest to cold orange
Stares through
Autumn cloak
A relentless eye
Unwinking.
ARE YOU SCARED?
Are you scared?
Are you still there,
Or just fading away?
Are you scared on the road
Out there?
AUTHOR NOTES
GLASS RAIN—the poetry by Margaret Roxby
“THE INSTRUMENT” was originally intended to be part a prose work the author was working on. Her daughter, upon hearing these words, suggested it was more poetry than prose and maybe could stand alone. The author agreed eventually that these words felt misplaced in the prose work.
REFRACTIONS—the poetry by Robert Roxby
“SMALL TOWN” first appeared in the author’s collection, Reflections on a Lifetime. Son of a coal miner, he spent most of his youth in small towns. Apparently, he developed an affection for what he found there.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—works by Kathleen Roxby
“ARE YOU SCARED?” is included this week for December 3, Roof Over Your Head 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 DECEMBER 2024