1. Poetry in the mail…

    Check this out!  What an amazing idea.  We don’t give “snail mail” enough credit. What a refreshing concept.

    http://postcardpoets.com/

     

  2. "A good poem…"

    A good poem is like a puzzle,
    waiting to confound you
    with its missing piece….

    But then its meaning
    throws itself in your face
    like confetti…
    or seeps into your bloodstream
    all day, like a time-release drug.

    A good poem holds you hostage…
    or sits beside you
    like an old friend who’ll
    never let you down.

    A good poem goes
    with coffee better than toast,
    its buttery words
    the salt of life.

     
  3. Today…a random page from a random draw from my bookshelf. A random book fortune of sorts. What does it say about today…about this life…and how might it guide what I do?

    (“Harvest Bow” Seamus Heaney)

     
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  5. What do you make of it?

    They tell us to kick those
    late night cravings
    as if passion were
    a passing urge…
    a problem to overcome…
    something inside
    to worship away;
    but the sweet, heavy
    here and now
    drives me to breathe.
    I cannot quit these words
    anymore than I can
    quit the moon.

    —Melissa McBride (poetry-at-dawn@tumblr.com)

     
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  8. The things that call us home
    are more than just things.

    They are things infused with meaning.
    Things that hold the image of ourselves.

    They provide access to the intangible.

     
  9. Go Seahawks!

     
  10. A child’s life is like an epic novel…with dips and turns and suspense and tension…foreshadowing, plot twists, conflicts, and resolutions. The interesting thing, though, is that unlike a book - even a lofty series - is that there is usually no one major climax. And while there may be falling action toward the end, and a series of resolutions leading to the end, everyone whose life he touches may take away a different lesson. The meaning of a his life is multifarious, and will rarely be the same as the meaning he himself constructs…deconstructs…and reconstructs throughout his existence.

    -Melissa McBride (original photography)