Poetry Per Diem
- June 21
- I am a freelance writer embedded in Small Town, Ohio. I have decided to write a poem every day as a discipline, and like a good potter, I intend to set aside a few as keepers. While I do the sorting and pruning, I'll post them all here.
MY RECENT POSTS
- A Fire on A Cool Night
April 20, 2014 08:04AM
- My Garden of Eden
April 19, 2014 08:47AM
- A Day at the Gallery
April 18, 2014 07:39AM
- My Dear Harry Houdini
April 17, 2014 08:08AM
- No Fair Tennis Without A Net
April 16, 2014 07:37AM
MY RECENT COMMENTS
- “Finally, and isn't it
remarkable that we've all
clamoring for spring, and
- “Ah, Pomplamoose!”
- “I haven't seen my kids
in rehab, but let's talk about
wards and treatment
- “Where are we when we are
in a computer monitor—in
own heads, I
April 19, 2014 08:55AM
Robyn Martins's Links
- MY LINKS
- No links in this category.
Sitting by the fire on a cool night
with warmth on my face
and a chill at my back
I am the dividing line
between hot and cold,
and I feel them both at once.
The popping wood glows
as it crumbles,
and my cheeks flush
with ember heat.
Invisible wind… Read full post »
I get lost inside my computer monitor,
a window taking up most of the desk.
I sit facing this frame for my work as if
wearing blinders hiding the rest of the room,
and everything else around me disappears.
the burgundy rug that needs a good vacuuming… Read full post »
I sat in the gallery,
behind me an exhibit worthy
of strolling admirers
being complimentary of the
visuals on pedestals
and the explanations on the walls.
Before me a window
onto the city street
and the parade of pedestrians
ignoring the treats just this side
of the door.
One by one,… Read full post »
For months, I have obsessed
over an abscess,
an alien making its home
in my abdomen,
giving it names like The Damned Thing
and Rosemary’s Baby.
I would flinch if the dog jumped
in my direction,
and wince as I rolled
onto my right side at night
for fear of… Read full post »
Kurt Vonnegut once wrote a letter to students at Xavier High School in NY, and in it he referenced a quote from Robert Frost—“Write a six line poem, about anything, but rhymed. No fair tennis without a net.” In response…
No fair tennis without a net.
It’s like lo… Read full post »
As I continue to experiment with poetry forms, I have written three poems based on the print hanging in my living room (thank you, Ethan Allen). 1—a word sonnet, 2—a traditional sonnet, 3—free verse
gold… Read full post »
Granddaddy’s acreage was just across the bridge,
a wide-planked one spanning the creek
meant to keep the cows out, or in.
I would stand on the edge of this frontier,
my toes touching the hewn wood
and my heels safely in the cut grass.
I would look out toward… Read full post »
(My first sonnet, following a relatively traditional structure. A friend felt this form seemed like a straight-jacket, but I'm not so sure. I would appreciate comments.)
I lay awake in my bed at night
as the house settles still in the dark.
Dilated eyes trace edges daylight makes stark
but in… Read full post »
I went to bed worried and woke up worried
all because you said “bad things” in a sentence,
and I feared for what the simple words were masking.
Did you harm yourself while I slept,
or hate yourself even a little,
or did you find some way to stop your full… Read full post »
A day of what to do.
No laundry to speak of.
Windows washed of dog dribble.
Kitchen cleared of breakfast debris.
Last bit of work completed.
Emails replied to.
TV off on purpose.
Friends away at the office.
Book so dull it snoozes under its own cover.… Read full post »
on the line ‘tween sun and shade
season’s conundrum. Read full post »
My friend asks the question
to spark conversation at the table—
What is your fantasy concert?
And while the others answer
with great ones like the Beatles live or
Beethoven conducting his own symphony,
I say a concert in which I am performing.
This is not because I am a great… Read full post »
I look at this picture of me
at the ripe age of four,
with the pixie haircut,
the dress my mother made
and those big brown eyes—
Black Eyed Pea, they called me—
and I’m glad the kid doesn’t know
what’s in store for her.
If I could talk to her… Read full post »
The passage of time
is one of the saddest things.
I have always thought so.
Daughters moved away,
but we once shopped for little dresses,
played with toys on the floor
and watched cartoons
The blind cat was made to rest,
but he came into my house… Read full post »
Exploring the villanelle form again, this time in iambic pentameter.Sometimes the sun shines through the transom window
but the light is eclipsed again by a cast shadow.
You wonder if something has blighted your sight but know
it must be vapors th
… Read full post »
I recall an evening aboard ship
after dinner but before a floor show
I would just as soon have skipped.
The astronomer was on deck
with a telescope mighty enough
to pick out Jupiter’s moons.
Night skies above and flowing seas below,
I marveled at the stars visible
when ground clutter… Read full post »
I marvel at what my sisters have become,
friends of mine, though we were early foes.
We’re tied together—our shared history is our sum.
Handmade dresses and cornbread is where we’re from,
and bickering and pranking nearly to blows.
I marvel at what my sisters have become.
&nb… Read full post »
My god is not my belly,
but planning a meal around a filet
drizzled with a buttery wine sauce
helps me enjoy the day a little more
than if cheese and crackers
were all I looked forward to.
Inviting friends to sit at my table for food
prepared with their… Read full post »
Van Gogh came to Cleveland,
so I drove in to meet him,
anticipating his swirls and colors
I knew from other museums
and books I had read.
Audio gadget to my ear,
I took small steps through galleries,
stopping to look and to listen,
to learn and to see what
Van Gogh came to Cleveland,
so we parked the car and bought our tickets,
because how often does that happen?
His tour was pretty specific,
but our visit was about the Master in general
and the fact it was his birthday,
and that Daughter used to be an art major
and… Read full post »
When the dog is sick and vomiting
and the husband is down with a bad back
and the kids away aren’t telling you everything
and the delinquent appendix gives a tug
like a toddler vying for attention,
you settle on the sofa
with a cup of coffee
and a fresh cookie,… Read full post »
That wind out there,
it parted our hair
as the dog and I
walked in the neighborhood.
It gave us a shove from the rear,
along with the dry leaves
scratching the asphalt
and the rolling trashcans
left too long on the curb.
I’ve never been able to… Read full post »
No rock-and-roll records
No playing with face cards
No dancing, cussing, smoking, chewing,
going to movies, gambling, believing in dinosaurs…
The list went on and on
and Mama subscribed,
and so goes the household.
But Daddy taught us poker
and craps at the kitchen table,
and D… Read full post »
Isaac Newton explained it
with his law of motion
and how an object will remain
where it should be
until something interferes with its path.
The littlest satellites stay in orbit
until something pulls them
to a brighter star, for example.
It seems that is exactly
what has happened to my… Read full post »