tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77524474883854241302011-07-07T23:40:26.472-03:00A collection of words and emotionsEvery Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comBlogger741100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-89024036456339142932010-04-18T01:32:00.003-03:002010-04-18T01:38:36.316-03:00

Written by Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1979)The writer was born in Worcester, Massachusettsin 1911, and died October 6, 1979.The FishI caught a tremendous fishand held him beside the boathalf out of water, with my hookfast in a corner of its mouth.He didn’t fight.He hadn’t fought at all.He hung a grunting weight,battered and venerableand homely. Here and therehis brown skin hung in stripslike ancient

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-2461285771718552882010-02-03T20:54:00.002-04:002010-02-03T21:06:48.011-04:00

Written by Brenda BryantBorn in England in 1931, she now lives inNew South Wales, AustraliaHer blog HERE.Hannah's BannerMy name's Hannah, and I'm handy with a spanner.I can saw and plane and rivet with the best of them.I can dig some dandy ditches,And I get dirt on my breeches,And I work, from dawn to dusk, just like the rest of them.But when the world is freeThey'll say 'Hannah! Make the tea!'My

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-33938437689717528292010-01-21T20:37:00.002-04:002010-01-21T21:14:33.249-04:00

Written by Pablo NerudaThe great Chilean writer was born July 12, 1904and died September 23, 1973.Read about him HERE and HERELove Sonnet LXXIXTranslated versionBy night, Love, tie your heart to mine, and the twotogether in their sleep will defeat the darknesslike a double drum in the forest, poundingagainst the thick wall of wet leaves.Night travel: black flame of sleepthat snips the threads of

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-38704254912464609892010-01-14T19:55:00.007-04:002010-01-14T22:31:13.142-04:00

Written by Robert HaydenThe writer was born in 1913 in Detroit, Michiganand died in 1980. He was America's first black poet laureate.Read more about him HERE and HEREThose Winter SundaysSundays too my father got up earlyand put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,then with cracked hands that achedfrom labor in the weekday weather madebanked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.I'd wake and hear

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-35222241016786936952009-06-20T17:08:00.001-03:002009-06-20T17:11:33.610-03:00

Written by Anne Bryant-HamonShe lives in Florida, USAHer blog HEREOriginally published in 2River View (Fall 1999)To VincentI wish he could have seen the fields of Spain,the massive blocks of sunflowers,their pug-nosed faces upturned toward the sunset;more than enough to paint past thirty-seven's gate.Have you seen yellow ochre past a tender age,its vintage kept by shaded, airtight glassbeyond the

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-73158763197213892482009-06-13T00:00:00.000-03:002009-06-13T11:51:24.685-03:00

Written by A.E. StallingsShe lives in Athens, GreeceHer website HEREPublished in her first collection, Archaic Smile,University of Evansville Press, 1999.Fishing The two of them stood in the middle water,The current slipping away, quick and cold,The sun slow at his zenith, sweating gold,Once, in some sullen summer of father and daughter.Maybe he regretted he had brought her—She'd rather have been

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-73662627070107262642009-06-06T10:59:00.007-03:002009-06-06T11:23:45.536-03:00

Written by Tom SheehanHe lives in Saugus, Massachusetts, USAHis website HEREInterviews HERE and HEREOriginally published in The 2River View, 5.4(Summer 2001)The Lilac RunFor twelve years the lilacsat still. Each spring Iwaited for lavender odorsto uproot the air, carvea name across an evening,break subtle barriers.The last bloom was yours.When you shook it loosein the kitchen, wet it,the square

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-72771138400208215822009-05-22T00:00:00.000-03:002009-05-22T00:07:29.631-03:00

Written by Therese BroderickShe lives in Albany, New York, USAHer site: Small Returns Originally posted on Every Photo Tells A Storyfor the image prompt shown hereOperation SmileChild, because I sent my pledgeto some torn patch of the globe--Cambodia, Morocco, Honduras--you can now smile for the first timeat your mother's deep brown eyes,or chew the banana she peels for you,or learn how to say

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-59477780969274447842009-05-15T00:10:00.000-03:002009-05-15T23:44:43.760-03:00

Written by Arlene AngShe lives in Spinea, ItalyHer website: Arlene Ang (Originally published in Creations Magazine,Vol. 18, Issue 3, June/July 2004)Blood Oranges in SpringLike Botero's women,plump with dimples --an orotund sunset gathering.My eyes grow accustomedto windows, observingfruit fall on grass.Since the slip downstairs,my wrinkled ankle has bloatedto sanguinello beauty.The hired gardener

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-78937796318534344582009-05-09T00:00:00.001-03:002009-05-09T00:05:38.187-03:00

Written by Kathryn KirkpatrickShe lives in Boone, North Carolina, USA(Originally published by The Cortland Review, May 2007, Issue 35)When she leftyou went into the barnto open windows,release house wrenstrapped in the eaves,and they rose to the topbranches of the buckeyewhile you stood below,rooted, facing what was leftof the day, until finallythey flew beyond memoryinto dusk and you went into

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-28499908550571490632009-05-03T00:00:00.001-03:002009-05-03T01:33:05.008-03:00

Written by Gordon MasonHe was born in Fife, Scotland, and now divideshis writing time between Scotland and Spain.His blog: Catapult To Mars(Originally published in Snakeskin)Blue Blue passion flower, anvilfor butterflies deliveredby a soft yellow-dressed afternoon.I think of the amethyst crossbetween her breasts,coffee in small rococo cupsand wood smoke that braidsher hair a fragrance of

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-30581658738090744252009-04-27T00:00:00.001-03:002009-05-03T01:33:30.677-03:00

Written by Ben HowardHe lives in Alfred, New York, USAHis website: One Time, One Meeting(Originally published by Cortland Review, No. 6, February 1999)Old NewsThose little incrementsof grief: how silentlythey travel in the bloodof mourners, bearing newsthat makes no headlines, wearsno byline, yet remainsfor years, for generations,persisting as it mustin vein and artery,lung and bone. And whenits

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-59207419588163722222009-04-20T15:52:00.004-03:002009-05-03T01:33:44.109-03:00

Written by Susan Stewart(From Red Rover, University of Chicago Press, 2008.)the foxDid we live lightly then?Twice we’ve seen the fox,the flashof red that leapsthe weeds and brush, an after-image gray,then blank, then gonedelight cannot be soughtor pleasure thoughtor joy re-caughtbut twice we saw the fox, not once,and knew his fear of usStep in time, love, step in time,live inside the morningtwice

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-53599523962972985872009-03-23T00:00:00.001-03:002009-05-03T01:33:56.429-03:00

Written by Karen NowviskieShe lives in West Virginia, USAHer blog: Keeping SecretsO, Danny BoyWe climbed the rocks above the gorgeto have your party as you wanted.The evening sun shone from the ancientriver like a fire encased in steel.The air, sweet and cold, rang littlebreath clouds as we sang your Irish song.Anna, swaying as she sang, held to you as youhad held to her when she was still your

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-2383491927471893342009-03-20T00:00:00.002-03:002009-05-03T01:34:07.710-03:00

Written by Sarah CopelandShe lives in Gabriola Island, CanadaHer blog: Questions in Black and WhiteAnd, 2009 in PicturesBurial Song *Hum soft my night angel*Take my hand and lead me onas you sing this burial song'oh hum soft my night angellifting your eyes to a horizonbathed in carameloh hum soft my night angellowering your blood stained bonesinto an earthen swaddleoh hum soft my night angelas

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-8427754094655311022009-03-17T00:00:00.002-03:002009-05-03T01:34:28.505-03:00

Written by Emily AndersonShe lives in Columbus, Ohio, USAHer blog: Rice in the CupboardDebris (Debris, Ohio State University, January 2009 )A half-eaten bagel and a pairof black furry earmuffs curltogether on a bench outsideDenney Hall, like animalstrying to keep warm by sharingthe small heat of their bodies.The sidewalk glows thinly,slick and dangerous. A receiptfrom the bookstore is

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-13951820686393955162009-03-14T00:00:00.004-03:002009-05-03T01:34:45.298-03:00

Written by Howie GoodHe lives in Highland, New York, USAHis blog: Apocalypse MamboPreviously published in everydayweirdnessRight-Hand ManI’d pick up a spoonin my left hand,and they’d take itand put it in my right.I was small, very small,probably no biggerthan a hobo’s bindle.They’d look down at mewhile I sleptand shake their heads.Where they came from,liars and arsonistswere left-handed.I’d pick

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-27319189632153594612009-03-11T00:00:00.003-03:002009-05-03T01:35:34.251-03:00

Written by Elizabeth J. RussoShe lives in New Jersey, USA Her site: Elizabeth J Russo Sparrow’s SongThe hedgerow is aliveA sweet choir from little throatsawakens the spiritof springWinter preaches loyaltyfrom the pulpitbut a rebellious chorussings and the congregationrejoicesPosted with consent from the writer.

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-52746819857088406452009-03-08T00:00:00.002-04:002009-05-03T01:35:44.478-03:00

Written by Jude GoodwinShe lives in Squamish, British Columbia, CanadaHer website: Jude GoodwinOriginally published in the Comstock Review, Spring/Summer 2005.One gruntThis is my floor,I'm down on itcheek flattened, handson the wood. Its yellow grainspreads away from me like wheat,like all these things:tumbleweed, dog hair,the sodbuster’s son upon me(one grunt for every nail);the undersideof a

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-53925035561612846282009-03-05T00:00:00.002-04:002009-05-03T01:35:56.691-03:00

Written by Collin KelleyHe lives in Atlanta, Georgia, USAHis blog: Collin KelleyOriginally appeared in Dead Mule School of Southern LiteratureSecret Origins of the Super-VillainsThe comic book arrives in the mail,found on eBay, sold by a stranger,my childhood memory only $10plus postage.I’ve wanted this since I was six,the oversized DC for $1.00,cried over its disappearancefrom the rack at Grant’

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-22211101280487267012009-03-02T00:00:00.002-04:002009-05-03T01:36:08.228-03:00

Written by Arlene AngShe lives in Spinea, ItalyHer website: Arlene Ang Previously published in The Desecration of Doves (iUniverse, 2005)Women in LoveIt is the pillbox hat I remember most, a Parisgreen with matching veil. In our house, au pairscame and went. She lasted two years, smiledrarely. Under her instructions, my mother slimedfish, towel-dried glass jars. We ate rawtuna, babbled in

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-69641856374835011072009-02-27T00:00:00.003-04:002009-05-03T01:36:19.469-03:00

Written by Pris CampbellShe lives in the Greater West Palm Beach, Florida, USA.Her website: Poetic InspirationsOriginally published in Walt's Corner(New York newspaper column by George Wallace).Inspired by a photo titled: Crash by Elena Retfalvi.Storm in AfricaYou wrote dailyfrom Africa.The wind in your wordsswept me to spacessown by wild orchids,stalked by lean lions.But a new love captured,

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-48138098235880469082009-02-25T00:00:00.001-04:002009-05-03T01:36:33.230-03:00

Written by Jeff DavisHe lives in Asheville, North Carolina, USA.His blog: NaturesThe poem first appeared in the Nantahala Review 2.2The Bird Returning to Its Nest(after a painting by George Braque)Back. Back to the nest,a cave, a boaton the sea of earth,to live in it.Some haste to the formof her flight,she comesfrom fields of wheat& rose hedgeswhich have filled her wings' shadows.She might have

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-7457393307137445782009-02-23T00:00:00.002-04:002009-05-03T01:36:46.706-03:00

Written by Noah ChampouxHe is 18 years old, and lives in Winterpark, Florida, USAHis blog: Noah the Great Home The soul searches for a home,when its doors lock itself out:it takes what it has and leaves;he whispers in her earsthe last of his breath,but she closes her mind away:his fingers stretch for words,but they’re stuck in a past mind.his screams sound by night,as the lies give him reason to

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-89945859258781305792009-02-22T00:00:00.002-04:002009-05-03T01:37:31.739-03:00

Written by Jimmy Santiago BacaHe lives in New Mexico, USAHis website: Jimmy Santiago BacaOriginally published in his book, Immigrants in Our Own Land© 1977, 1979, 1981, 1982, 1990 by Jimmy Santiago Baca(New Directions Publishing Corporation, 1990).The County JailMen late at night cook coffee in rusty cans,just like in the hills, like in their childhoods,without rules or guidance or authority,

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-14581778950748343222009-02-21T00:00:00.003-04:002009-05-03T01:45:59.836-03:00

Written by Brad FrederiksenHe lives in Sydney, AustraliaHis blog: Maekitso's CafeWater Simulationyou and i adrifttogether on a wooden raftwhile dead, angry menride motor bikes and bicycles at seait’s raining and the paper boy is caughtwithout a plastic coat to keep him drybeneath his origami boat a waveand a dandelion seed that dared to flythe old coot waits there,hunching at the rearhis sweater

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-54131787647093736242009-02-20T00:00:00.001-04:002009-05-03T01:45:46.396-03:00

Written by Annette C. BoehmShe currently lives in GermanyHer blog: Annette C. BoehmPiece of Clayhere, in my palm, size of a plumstill warm - it came off moments agoand if it had breath it would be minebut it has none, and it's still mineas a kid i heard the storyyoung jesus took a clay bird in his palmlet it go and it flew awayi am not jesus, i knowand the clay is going cold and greybecoming a

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-18077552376537774672009-02-19T00:00:00.001-04:002009-05-03T01:45:31.336-03:00

Written by David BottomsHe lives in Atlanta, Georgia, USA.Originally published in his book, Armored Hearts: Selected and New Poems,Copper Canyon Press, 1995.Under the Vulture-TreeWe have all seen them circling pastures,have looked up from the mouth of a barn, a pine clearing,the fences of our own backyards, and have stoodamazed by the one slow wing beat, the endless dihedral drift.But I had never

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-41134342020776866052009-02-18T00:00:00.002-04:002009-05-03T01:46:22.226-03:00

Written by Jonnia W. SmithShe lives in Kennesaw, Georgia, USAHer blog: Bloodroot Ink PoetryFear NotTrust me enoughto let me stand to my full heightwithout reprimand.Sing with me as I testthe strength and reach of my voiceuncovered,for I must.I have long outgrown the tiny spacemarked out for myself so many years ago,and no choice remainsbut to at last becomewho I am.You must have knownthis day

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-14268288404504561112009-02-17T00:00:00.002-04:002009-05-03T01:46:39.026-03:00

Written by Mike D. McCulleyHe lives in Montesano,Washington, USAHis blog: Word AngerIt Sleeps AloneAt night the mind sleeps, but sleeps alone.The feet think hard on the sound of gravel,walking past blossoms on a frosted path,a garden gate closing. The heart recallsbridges breaking apart and falling,small bridges with elaborate structures.Raven at the center perches on a cedar stumpand takes in

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-53089905991560874542009-02-16T00:00:00.003-04:002009-05-03T01:47:00.690-03:00

Written by Rachel GreenShe lives in Chesterfield, Derbyshire, United KingdomHer blog: When The Dogs BiteFading MemoriesI remember my mother –red-haired and five foot twoin her stockings.Holding a bunch of rosesin front of gaily patternedseventies wallpapershe smiles at the camera,pleased with the First, Second, Thirdrosettes from the local flower show.The roses are gone nowbulldozed to make way

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-49238732388028177512009-02-15T00:00:00.002-04:002009-05-03T01:47:15.501-03:00

Written by S.L. CorsuaShe lives in Metro Manila, PhilippinesHer blog: Unguarded UtterancePostcard-Sign (Off) Languagewords out of bones writing cursiveon air. limbs bend, reach, foldto form each letter, then stayrigid after every stroke. this ishow, in choppy stance, she speaksto the deaf man beforehe grows tired, looks away, turnsthe light off, dreamsof underwater sightseeingover oyster culture

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-75965102706793593892009-02-14T00:00:00.004-04:002009-05-03T02:02:11.576-03:00

Written by Gordon MasonHe was born in Fife, Scotland, and now divides hiswriting time between Scotland and Spain.His blog: Catapult To MarsOriginally published in his book, Catapult to Mars,2006 by Poetry Monthly Press.Mijas Costa Dawn (Amanecer de Mijas Costa)Today is young enoughfor the lighthouse to blink.Star lanterns are snuffedby Africa’s haze.Your silhouette crispensas the sun risesfrom a

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-56203679957580287972009-02-13T00:30:00.001-04:002009-05-03T01:47:44.426-03:00

Written by Joaquin CarvelHe lives in southern California, USA His blog: Lyrics & Maladies Ash the fires have beenout formonthsbut the santa anasstill blow,over the black andbrittle hills,over the stumpsand fenceposts,frozen in scorchedand silent surrendertowards the sun.the santa anas blowdry and hungryover the carcassof the mountain,plucked and devouredto its secretsand stones.herein the

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-10595556768635755512009-02-12T01:00:00.003-04:002009-05-03T01:48:01.406-03:00

Written by K. Lawson GilbertShe lives in Tunkhannock, Pennsylvania, USAHer blog: Old Mossy Moon Tombstones rise upin a stubbleof gray wartsacross the greatgreen body ofthe memorial lawnfungus of thedead and gonetelling us aboutwho we used to be. Originally published on writer's personal blog. Posted with consent of the writer.

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-83238953391484275192009-02-11T01:00:00.001-04:002009-05-03T01:48:14.989-03:00

Written by Sue Hardy-DawsonShe lives in Yorkshire, United Kingdom Her blog: PoemcatShip of DreamsUnder ice we sleepFireflies dancing in lanternsPools of winter sunDown, down and fallingCrushed, by the iron waterCold lipped salt geishaWe wave pale silentThrough jet edged anenomiesCaress startled bedsDeath’s faithless loverFloats in ghost seas of angelsWashing bitter starsEchoing last criesHugging

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-91497527650970975242009-02-10T01:00:00.001-04:002009-05-03T01:48:28.475-03:00

Written by George BilgereHe lives in Ohio, USAHis website: George BilgereOriginally published in his book, Big Bang.Copyright © 1999 Copper Beech Press.At the Vietnam MemorialThe last time I saw Paul Castleit was printed in gold on the wallabove the showers in the boys’locker room, next to the schoolrecord for the mile. I don’t recallhis time, but the year was 1968and I can look across the

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-60761814849536643642009-02-09T01:00:00.002-04:002009-05-03T01:48:42.275-03:00

Written by Melissa Crowe She lives in Portland, Maine, USA Her blog: Milk and Paper Fancy Luncheon with ApocalypseMy love of ginger is a fascistlove, the smell of ginger--everything should be so cleanshould smell of sugar and ice,lemon juice and baby hair, shouldhide its sweet under dirty, knuckledskin--maybe the world under itscrust of blood and lava, under itswrinkled scab, is also new, whiteas

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-50164595702846211032009-02-08T01:00:00.007-04:002009-05-03T01:49:01.077-03:00

Written by Elizabeth J. RussoShe lives in New Jersey, USAHer site here: Elizabeth J Russo Ode to a Dying OrchidHer white-tipped wingscurlas she dripsa slow purple death.Aubergine pearlsrisk the edge clingingto the thin waxy stalk.Her clogged arteriesclosing,closing,and soon her dark forkedtongue will be speechless.Originally published on writer's personal blog. Posted with consent of the writer.

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-78396940725118085882009-02-07T01:00:00.005-04:002009-05-03T01:49:26.472-03:00

Written by Martín EspadaHe lives in Amherst, Massachusetts, USAHis website: Martin EspadaThe poem was originally published, and appears in his book,Imagine the Angels of Bread, (W.W. Norton, 1996)Four Sandwiches—Washington, D.C.JC was called the Rackat the work farm,aluminum milk pailsdangling from his hands.Once a sudden fistcrushed the cartilage of noseacross his face,but JC only grinned,and

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-73185386426793632562009-02-06T01:00:00.003-04:002009-05-03T01:49:40.506-03:00

Written by Rachel WestfallShe lives in Whitehorse, Yukon, CanadaHer blog: The Waxing MoonFeline Night ThoughtsThe cat’s jaw clicks steadily as he sleeps,his tongue pressing mechanicallyagainst his palate. I wonderif he’s dreaming of his motherand the life-milk she fed him,or of a bird, his typical waking-jaw-clackmuted by his curled posture.His toes are long, like fingers,strong and elegant; so

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-81452133295990848202009-02-05T01:00:00.004-04:002009-05-03T01:49:55.980-03:00

Written by John McCulloughHe lives in Brighton, United KingdomOriginally published in Magma Poetry, 2003, then reappearedin his collection,Cloudfish, published by Pighog Press.Known LightNow you’re crossing that ocean, I have to confessI’ve rather warmed to this shed where nothing is yours,where your father found God in a Bunsen flame.Chipped oak, a gas tap, scores of powdered specimens –the

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-28429960109583984162009-02-04T01:00:00.003-04:002009-05-03T01:50:13.730-03:00

Written by Helen FrostShe lives in Fort Wayne, Indiana, USAThe poem was published in her book, Skin of a Fish, Bones of a Bird, Ampersand Press, 1993We Gather To Scatter Because a man has finished, we gather to scatterhis ashes and the small chunks fire could not returnto ashes. A breeze lifts a strand of his wife's white hairlets it fall to her cheek as her hand lifts and lets fallgrey streaks

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-36081323745715364732009-02-03T01:00:00.003-04:002009-05-03T01:50:28.071-03:00

Written by Jannie FunsterShe lives in Austin, Texas, USAHer blog: Jannie FunsterA Good PoemA good poem is a cocoon,a secret hideoutwhere no one can slap youas you’re drying dishesor throw shoes at your backas you’re running away.There are never enough.Good poems, that is.Please gather a millionin an Easter basketand bring me nothing but timeand coffeeand sweatpantsand chicken pot pieand sleep to

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-53555567224504351062009-02-02T01:00:00.002-04:002009-05-03T01:50:50.658-03:00

Written by Naomi Shihab NyeShe lives in San Antonio, Texas, USAReprinted by permission of BOA Editionsfrom Fuel: poems by Naomi Shihab Nye, 1998.The RiderA boy told meif he roller-skated fast enoughhis loneliness couldn’t catch up to him,the best reason I ever heardfor trying to be a champion.What I wonder tonightpedaling hard down King William Streetis if it translates to bicycles.A victory! To

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-25313566940138266772009-02-01T01:00:00.003-04:002009-05-03T01:51:09.607-03:00

Written by Linda StittShe lives in Toronto, Ontario, CanadaHer site: Linda's Passionate IntensityOriginally published in her book, Passionate Intensity,published by Seraphim Editions in 2002Abandonment I was not donewith being your child;I was still learning to love.And it's all very well to sayI hold you in my heartand that you teach me still,by memoryand by the code that forms my flesh.But

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-31820855144346105442009-01-31T01:00:00.003-04:002009-05-03T01:51:26.143-03:00

Written by Juliet WilsonShe lives in Edinburgh, United Kingdom Her blog: Crafty Green Poet Chin UpHiding in lofts with sandbags at the dooris a coward's game.We will keep our gazes high,carry on playing cardsWhile the waters riseand forests drown.Clouds on the horizonlook beautiful at sundown.Posted with consent of the writer.

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-47138336259025129892009-01-30T01:00:00.005-04:002009-05-03T01:51:44.093-03:00

Written by Faith P. She lives in Vermont, USA Her blog: Stones From My Heart Originally posted on Every Photo Tells A Storyfor the image prompt shown here. Friendship for JennyIt was Reeses peanut butter cupsand root beer in Central parkuntil we were sick and so high on sugarthe old metal swings seemed like an amusement ride.And walking down the streetin the evening. Me first walking youhome and

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-82063395500607677362009-01-29T01:00:00.004-04:002009-05-03T01:51:58.060-03:00

Written by Vona GroarkeShe was born in Edgeworthstown in the Irish MidlandsOriginally published in her book, Shale, The Gallery Press, Oldcastle, 1994.Shale What leaves us trembling in an empty houseis not the moon, my moon-eyed lover.Say instead there was no moonthough for nine nights we stoodon the brow of the hill at midnightand saw nothing that was notcontained in darkness, in the pier light,

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-69889300357249804862009-01-28T01:00:00.001-04:002009-05-03T01:52:13.338-03:00

Written by Larry Lawrence (Lorenzo)He lives in Old Bridge, New Jersey, USAHis blog: Crowned with LaurelsCooking Hamnot a difficult task,had to read directionstwo or three timesbefore I called my mother.It was the annual call tothat lady who doesn’tknow much, but she didknow how to cook.Usually with too much salt.Keep it covered with foil,whatever you do, or yourham is gonna get dried out.Nothing

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-36050976154802618482009-01-27T01:00:00.007-04:002009-05-03T01:52:31.473-03:00

Written by Sarah HinaShe lives in Athens, Ohio, USAHer blog: MurmursSolo Rub me like I am thestring and you are the bowand then maybe I’ll makea sound, some kind ofholy unbecoming,instead of this longflat drone of mouthsewn wide andatomic words that won’tgrip the teethbut implode by mytongueIf desire is song,numb is stacked silence,so I'll pick them apartwith lead-lined glovesand pluck

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-21607579828810670082009-01-26T01:00:00.002-04:002009-05-03T01:52:56.397-03:00

Written by Therese BroderickShe lives in Albany, New York, USAHer site: Ekphrasis (poetry on art)Originally posted on Every Photo Tells A Storyfor the image prompt shown hereGrandfather with GrandsonThey skip a generation--clanfeatures like green-blue eyesand how they see the day ahead--dark and narrow, or wide and bright--and a long tilted jaw preferringfew words, and their slow saunteringway of

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-3200718123351622622009-01-25T01:00:00.001-04:002009-05-03T01:53:10.629-03:00

Written by Fenny SterenborgShe lives in the NetherlandsHer blog: Fenny's Bla Bla BlogDaybreak In the early hours of the dayI think of you who wandered offto foreign shores and other armsand wonder how you’ve beenDraped in a blanketagainst the morning coldI stare at the wavescollapsing on the beachand watch another day beginA gull cries harsh and loudfor no apparent reasonit seemsbut I don’t know

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-14056577878575829522009-01-24T01:00:00.002-04:002009-05-03T01:53:27.182-03:00

Written by Holly DunlapShe lives in Watkinsville, Georgia, USA.Her blog: Lost Kite (Note from writer: This was written afterlistening to Bukowski's "Bluebird" as a "poetry challenge"from another blogger, Scot Young, from Be NotInhospitable to Strangers) After BukowskiWe all tell stories of bluebirdsstuck in our heartsas though nests are foreveras though we own our heartsbut the rest of us live in

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-38100416476993490622009-01-23T01:00:00.003-04:002009-05-03T01:53:43.069-03:00

Written by Pamela OlsonShe lives in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, USAHer blog: Amputated Moon The WallThe distinction betweenyou and I,is onlywhich side of the wallwe lean upon.There is no emptinessbetween us two;simply stacked stonesof river rockrising from soil to sky.As you rest againstthis wall,feel my tears dripdown the rocksto dampen your cheek.I, on my side,can feel your breath’spush and

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-199671622515281652009-01-22T01:00:00.004-04:002009-05-03T01:54:10.369-03:00

Written by Charli HenleyShe lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts, USAHer blog: Broken Mannequin(Fish) For LiquidI keepmy apartment too coldto keep theectothermic(fish)alive.I put himin front of the heaterto delaya neglectful death.I have alwaysbeen tenderwith the aquaticvertebrateanimals.I had a tankas a girlin which liveda huge black thing.He would jump out,flop breathlesslyon the floor,strands of

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-48243378640302361782009-01-21T01:00:00.003-04:002009-05-03T01:54:23.029-03:00

Written by Joaquin CarvelHe lives in southern California, USAHis blog: Lyrics & MaladiesHanging in the HushHold me in perfect stillness instill air while downstairsthe coffee slips into the pot and the sunwarms the windowsbut do not stirjustyet;your armssofter than pillows have just fitand your head has fallen soand your smooth legson minetwistand balancewhile downstairs the grapefruitis cold and

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-46050320518451972952009-01-20T01:00:00.004-04:002009-05-03T01:54:35.812-03:00

Written by Christopher HilemanHe lives in Gladstone, Oregon, USAHis blog: View From The Northern WallCleansing "This poem was inspired by a photo of several nakedreed stalks in a pond covered with a kind of brownishalgae fully hiding the water's surface. It was a closeupso no surroundings were visible. The reeds wereseveral and some crossed at angles. No ends werevisible. I chose one and wrote

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-79752312788438361082009-01-18T19:10:00.013-04:002009-05-03T01:54:47.941-03:00

Written by Noah ChampouxHe is 18 years old, and lives in Winterpark, Florida, USAHis blog: Noah the GreatSailors Oceans show no sympathyto ships driftingsomewhere, anywhere;those desperate sailorswith undying optimismhaven't traveled.In fragments of fractionsa lapse of thoughtsails you to error:a tipped boator cracked hullsends you sinkinguntil the only way you driftis downwardtowards

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-14946149911617777412009-01-18T01:00:00.002-04:002009-05-03T01:55:01.405-03:00

Written by David KingHe lives in Surrey, United KingdomHis blog: Pics and PoemsAutumn LeavesLike autumn leaveswe change our colours when we die.That's all we ever were:a change of colour on a canvas ground,one small fleck of differenceon an otherwise flat fieldin a desert of indifference.Here death is the death of alldissimilarity,the smudge of detail,the erosion of the figure by the ground.Death

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-31384300538148008372009-01-17T01:00:00.002-04:002009-05-03T01:55:20.635-03:00

Written by K. Lawson GilbertShe lives in Tunkhannock, Pennsylvania, USAHer blog: Old Mossy MoonIconsI started out life flanked by mymother’s wild flower gardenand the Kanawha river,that ran cold and choppyover the shoals that heldfresh water mussel beds,ancient in their ruin.I was captured at an early age,held prisoner, then protectedby the mountains all around me.At night, I was lulled to

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-47367620211874198042009-01-16T01:00:00.014-04:002009-05-03T01:55:34.282-03:00

Written by Sarah CopelandShe lives in Gabriola Island, CanadaHer blog: Questions in Black and WhiteOriginally posted on Every Photo Tells A Storyfor the word prompt shown here.Among Fallen FursStanding silentlyI almost forget to breath,a graveyard of old trucksamong the fallen fur trunkseach rusted spot bearinganother tall tale, each growinga little more with every storm,for their voices my heart

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-15666515645937307922009-01-15T01:00:00.002-04:002009-05-03T01:55:49.567-03:00

Written by Faith P.She lives in Vermont, USAHer blog: Stones From My HeartWinter Blues(for Tosca)I am in the blue darkwood by nightfallas silentas my dog not breathingon her bed no painfor the first timeno lifeI am in the blue blue darknessof night of no moonof no sightmy dreams haunt me on the edge of sleepWhy is it even the sponge with which I washedyour floor makes me cry as Irinse the last

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-89134260945015467452009-01-14T01:00:00.003-04:002009-05-03T01:56:02.522-03:00

Written by Melissa CroweShe lives in Portland, Maine, USAHer blog: Milk and PaperThreadbare I sit, spine-stitched, and weave wing to birdin this bed of twig-spit: we do what wecan. Everybody's fragile as a swan neck.Everybody under feather-puff has bonesof glass. In one hand a needle and threadbut who said she who makes repairs can'talso be the one to make the tears.I think I ripped these birds

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-53607204082909999312009-01-13T01:00:00.006-04:002009-05-03T02:02:26.767-03:00

Written by Julie Buffaloe-YoderShe currently lives in Ohio, USA,but, is in the process of moving to Durham, North CarolinaHer blog: The Buffaloe PenWe Leave The Beaches For Tourists Let them have the new white path.We’ll keep our old black road.We’ll keep the marshes, the bays,the clam loved mud, the scalysmell of fish house sweat.We’ll keep the hard blue handsof net menders, carvers, pickers,

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-26045377064067471932009-01-12T01:00:00.003-04:002009-05-03T01:56:32.082-03:00

Written by Jonathan ChinHe lives in New York City, New York, USAHis blog: Jonathan ChinI Never Noticed FliesI never noticed flieshave a pair of ancillary wingsthat rest flush against their thoraxuntil 1 landed on my pageand I could see the detailsof this little messenger of Godin the contrast between virgin whiteand mottled black and its wingsshone translucent likea gasoline drop rainbow.I wonder

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-43453360288792945612009-01-11T01:00:00.011-04:002009-05-03T01:56:46.108-03:00

Written by Sandra LawrenceShe lives in southern Maine, USAHer blog: Four Winds Haiga Gold Ringworn sixty-three years,that gold band is as fragileas her old body,now, it is a ring of memoriesstill, precious metalOriginally published on writer's personal blog.Posted with consent of the writer.

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-27092742887200802392009-01-10T01:00:00.012-04:002009-05-03T01:56:59.828-03:00

Written by Rachel WestfallLives in Whitehorse, Yukon, CanadaHer blog: The Waxing MoonOne dayI want to be the bedyou fall intoat the end of your journeynot a motel bed, me--stale and generic,with a stiff polyester bedspreadand magic fingers if you insert a quarterI would bean apple-pie bed, dry and warmsheets fresh off the line,quilt plump and waitingsmelling of no otherbut you.Originally

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-80406194392369243422009-01-09T09:16:00.025-04:002009-05-03T01:57:14.449-03:00

Written by J. Andrew LockhartHe lives in Van Buren, Arkansas, USAHis blog: Past TenseSending an Armysending an armyof cold black clouds, demandingmy attention-You remind me againthe frailty of manOriginally published on writer's personal blog.Posted with consent of the writer.

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-82347446923278149552009-01-08T01:00:00.027-04:002009-05-03T01:57:31.433-03:00

Written by Holly DunlapShe lives in Watkinsville, Georgia, USA.Her blog: Lost Kite New Year’s PoemIn the beginning there was paperblank loud neatand no one understood thenewness,except the red wine that swamin my mouthand shadows of moving bodiesmoving bladesand dotted lines on the roadthat didn't make the carsdrive straight.(we were all drinking)It took too long for someoneto focus on the blank

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-17300165093497353182009-01-07T01:00:00.034-04:002009-05-03T01:57:55.654-03:00

Written by Therese BroderickShe lives in Albany, New York, USAHer site: Ekphrasis (poetry on art)(First published online in The 2River View(11.4, Summer 2007),and reprinted here withpermission of the author.)These Seven YearsIn some past self we hardenedAround the deepest stoneWithin us which we must nowThese seven yearsBring to surface with bladeOr trowel. Raised, felt, it willSettle atop the

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-46518706077630053272009-01-06T01:00:00.026-04:002009-05-03T01:58:06.896-03:00

Written by Juliet WilsonShe lives in Edinburgh, United KingdomHer blog: Crafty Green Poetthe garden stepshidden under fallen leaves-a blackbird callsOriginally published on writer's personal blog.Posted with consent of the writer.

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-11330670412337463192009-01-04T04:00:00.044-04:002009-05-03T01:58:24.423-03:00

Written by Sarah CopelandShe lives in Gabriola Island, CanadaHer blog: Questions in Black and White SearchesShe weeps as she searchesin the cupboards, under the bed;I search too as I follow herfrom room to room, day to day;when she sits and strokes the couchcushions all faded orange and triesto remember the morning's memories,I am there too watching and waiting;we sit, just the two of us thereand

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7752447488385424130.post-19962416467472119572009-01-01T11:33:00.041-04:002010-02-03T21:47:29.239-04:00

No Submissions: Please note that I do NOT accept submissions. Poetry is a personal matter.Consent: The poems on this blog have been selected by the owner, and posted with written consent from the author.Published: Poems that have been previously published (except on author's own site) have been posted with permission granted by the previous publication to the author.Copyright Notice: All written

Every Photo Tells A Storynoreply@blogger.com