I awoke this morning with a prayer on my lips.
Perhaps that may not seem strange to you,
But it is for me who almost never prays.
Yesterday I left my daughter standing by herself
On a station platform in a far away city,
On a brand new job with a brand new boss,
Where all of her co-workers would be strangers.
As the train slowly pulled away to disappear,
Her cheery smile and airy good-bye wave
Somehow could not erase my feeling
That those lips were trembling,
The eyes were struggling to hold back her tears.
Alone, no friends, no family members near.
Even the telephone in that bare bones apartment
Had not been connected to act as a lifeline.
No longer will she be able to confide
In her mother nightly, or see her on the weekends
To go shopping or just for conversation.
They had always been so inseparable.
Now, perhaps, you may have some idea
Of why I awoke this morning with that prayer.
THE PROMISE
Sometimes at night
The moonlight glows
And I hear you
Whisper, “Good-bye.”
My soul answers,
“Wait in the light.
I will come soon.”
(Roseate Moment)
There
Before me in beautiful design
Flowers
Rising in the air
I’ll remember
In future hours
The color, shape, and greening line
Of stem and leaf
And this is strange:
I knew
That roseate hue
Was one time born
For just that moment
That spot to adorn
ORANGE DAYS
Summer glows
in the produce aisle
where oranges,
ripe with sun,
pile warm days
on happy laughter
They roll,
solid and plump,
into your hands.
You breathe
in the piquancy
of memory.
Ah, summer:
Ripe, sweet
And juicy.
AUTHOR NOTES
GLASS RAIN—the poetry by Margaret Roxby
“(Roseate Moment)” had no title when found among the author’s incomplete work. This was a item in progress and it is possible the author was considering changing the last line to just the single word “adorn.”
REFRACTIONS— the poetry of Robert Roxby
“THE PROMISE” first appeared in the author’s anthology, Reflections on a Lifetime, 2000, and was undoubtedly written about his wife who had died. However, it seemed appropriate to the site manager to include it for World Refugee Day as its sentiments reflect the thoughts of many refugees.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—the poetry of Kathleen Roxby
“ORANGE DAYS” is another poem in the author’s chapbook, “Singular Prism,” (soon to be published) which explores color.
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 JUNE 2025
UNEXPECTED PRAYER
I awoke this morning with a prayer on my lips.
Perhaps that may not seem strange to you,
But it is for me who almost never prays.
Yesterday I left my daughter standing by herself
On a station platform in a far away city,
On a brand new job with a brand new boss,
Where all of her co-workers would be strangers.
As the train slowly pulled away to disappear,
Her cheery smile and airy good-bye wave
Somehow could not erase my feeling
That those lips were trembling,
The eyes were struggling to hold back her tears.
Alone, no friends, no family members near.
Even the telephone in that bare bones apartment
Had not been connected to act as a lifeline.
No longer will she be able to confide
In her mother nightly, or see her on the weekends
To go shopping or just for conversation.
They had always been so inseparable.
Now, perhaps, you may have some idea
Of why I awoke this morning with that prayer.
(perhaps)
Perhaps he sang a song,
We never heard
And if he did
In silent voice
–so far, so near—
The waves of soundless sound
Turned from the wall
Of our resistant inner ear,
And like the Little Prince
In a lonely desert
Vanishing without a trace,
Left us bereft
Strangely inconsolable
Yearning for some unknown
Some perfect word
Perhaps he sang a song
We should have heard
RETURN OF THE IBO
Tall above a dust brown earth burnt by the sun,
Shadows move against the western blaze
Each step reclaiming the land—
Panther-black against a hot blue sky that hurts the eye,
Striding onto the plain with the serene power of the leopard,
The Ibo have come home.
AUTHOR NOTES
GLASS RAIN—the poetry by Margaret Roxby
“(perhaps)” was found among the author’s papers. The inspiration for this poem is unknown.
REFRACTIONS— the poetry of Robert Roxby
“UNEXPECTED PRAYER.” Robert and his wife had accompanied their daughter the 120 miles to the city (115 by train) of her new job. Their unmarried daughter had lived all her life (almost 50 years) till then in her home town. The sadness he attributes to his daughter is more likely his own. The poem first appeared in the author’s anthology, Reflections on a Lifetime, 2000.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—the poetry of Kathleen Roxby
“RETURN OF THE IBO” is a result first of a misheard word in a song on the radio while driving home along the coast which triggered her imagination. The author composed this poem as she completed her drive. The other inspiration was a television story of a shipload of Ibo natives, one of the last slave ships to arrive from Africa which off-loaded its cargo temporarily on an off shore island not equipped to receive such a ship, causing them to lower the slaves into the water, expecting them to wade ashore. However, knowing they were to be sold as slaves when the ship returned for them, the people–still chained together–turned outward toward the open ocean and waded into its depths to their deaths.