Perhaps, sitting here just reading
Has filled my mind with such wayward thoughts
As to be considered, at best, as nonsensical.
But then, sometimes nonsensical is correct.
Time and time alone can give us the answer.
Let’s consider whether, or not, it’s nonsensical.
Where shall we start? At the beginning?
Of course! But where does it begin?
Let’s start with one of my crazy dreams.
I am usually the hero striding through a crowd
To rescue someone in distress, deathly frightened.
And that’s nonsense, I’m only five foot seven
Weigh only one hundred, thirty-seven pounds
And that’s when I’m soaking wet, clothes and all.
But, in a dream, anything is possible, I think.
The last time I rescued some poor soul,
I woke up in the tangle of my bed clothes.
I remember leaping from a high cliff
Rescuing a young child from a raging river.
Of course, the bed was a terrible mess
With swimming so hard to escape that flow
AUTHOR NOTES
GLASS RAIN—poetry by Margaret Roxby
“DANGERS OF GLORY” has been edited for this release. The poem was never finalized by the author.
REFRACTIONS—an poem by Robert Roxby
“TITLE-LESS” is so-titled because the author did not name this piece which was found in his notebook. It is included this week for March 8, National Proofreading Day.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—the poetry of Kathleen Roxby
“PING PONG POEM” is included this week for March 8, National Proofreading Day. The author seeks to help the non-writer envision what the act of composing a poem is like providing a more universal experience, the game board. Whether she succeeded or not only the reader can tell.
#nationalproofreadingday
TITLE-LESSS
Perhaps, sitting here just reading
Has filled my mind with such wayward thoughts
As to be considered, at best, as nonsensical.
But then, sometimes nonsensical is correct.
Time and time alone can give us the answer.
Let’s consider whether, or not, it’s nonsensical.
Where shall we start? At the beginning?
Of course! But where does it begin?
Let’s start with one of my crazy dreams.
I am usually the hero striding through a crowd
To rescue someone in distress, deathly frightened.
And that’s nonsense, I’m only five foot seven
Weigh only one hundred, thirty-seven pounds
And that’s when I’m soaking wet, clothes and all.
But, in a dream, anything is possible, I think.
The last time I rescued some poor soul,
I woke up in the tangle of my bed clothes.
I remember leaping from a high cliff
Rescuing a young child from a raging river.
Of course, the bed was a terrible mess
With swimming so hard to escape that flow
PING PONG POEM
Bobbling on currents unseen
Bubbling up toward the waiting hand
Sounds swirl and spill
Into a mind which catches
Then bats them away
Allowing only a select few
To splash across the gridded game board
Up, around, and down, across
Words cascade, collide
Bounce, ricochet, bloody the field
Leaving at last a singular pattern
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:
GRANDPARENTS NEEDED
I do want a grandpa,
And maybe even a grandma.
My friend, Bill, has both.
His grandma is so nice.
She let me sit on her lap.
I felt so warm and neat.
While in his grandpa’s attic,
We saw wonderful machines,
And so many other things—
All of them so strange to me.
My friend Tommy’s grandma
Makes such really great cookies.
Ma, where is my grandpa?
May I borrow your grandpa
For just a week, or so?
I’ll return him unharmed
And just as good as new.
If only there was someplace
We could rent a grandpa,
Or a grandma for a day or two.
Wouldn’t that be really swell
For those of us without either one?
WITHOUT ANSWER
In my memory
There’s a place at river’s bend
Where willows bow low
Over deep, bright cold water’s edge
Why it’s there, I do not know.
WAITING
Sitting in the dark
Waiting for the quiet
Watching the stars
come out
one by one
Waiting…
Waiting for the quiet
Afraid to go in
to the noise
to the little love-demands
Afraid of one more asking
Afraid
Waiting…
Waiting for the quiet
to come
to still the fear
the unreasoned panic
Waiting…
AUTHOR NOTES
GLASS RAIN—the poetry of Margaret Roxby
“WITHOUT ANSWER” has been titled and shortened for this release. The author had not completed her thoughts leaving only these words and a few others on the back of a used envelope. The poet spent her childhood and early adulthood a few blocks of the Ohio River which undoubtedly is the river she refers to here.
REFRACTIONS— the poetry of Robert Roxby
“GRANDPARENTS NEEDED” is included this week for National Letter to an Elder Day, February 26. The author’s own grandfathers had died before he was born. It is unknown if he had acquaintance with his wife’s grandfather who also had died before Robert and Margaret married. Robert did know one of Margaret’s brothers as they were high school seniors together and it is possible that Robert did meet Margaret’s grandfather who was still alive at that time. The poem was found in the poet’s notebook.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS— the poetry of Kathleen Roxby
“WAITING” is included this week for February 28, World Quiet Day. The poem is another in the series the author wrote during a period of depression, this time referring to one year in her teens.
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 FEBRUARY 2025