DPF / Martin

I like this title. What is this world? It is. This one’s from Thrush Poetry Journal: an anthology of the first two years, ed. by Helen Vitoria. Thrush Press is here, and then there’s a brief bio:

from it is / by M.G. Martin

it is inside the return of a sorrow only known on an ocean floor.

DPF / Kingsley

An oceany-y one, from the ABZ First Book Poetry Prize 2013, winner: Traceries. More here and here:

from Private Chambers / by Jean A. Kingsley

like the grand armada of gallied whales
who spiral in toward the middle

creating a sleek on the ocean’s surface

DPF / Peacock

For miracles. This one’s from the book, Villanelles, ed. by Annie Finch and Marie-Elizabeth Mali. More here:

from Little Miracle / by Molly Peacock b. 1949

No use getting hysterical.
The important part is: we’re here.
Our lives are a little miracle.

DPF / Squillante

A bird day. This one is lovely Thrush Press Broadside 17, a broadside I recently received in the mail.

from Flight / by Sheila Squillante

bright feathers shoulder past the window

you watch them


DPF / Wier

Another funeral day. Today, a best friend long disconnected and the 10-year-old-part-sheepdog dog he left behind. And so, we welcome Daisy into our home and hope she finds some peace and comfort here among old friends, new children, all new to her.  

from “Who is God? So Asked Our Dog” / by Dara Wier b. 1949

How many seasons are there?
Where was God born?
How many stars?

DPF / Musgrave

Daily themes this week. Today is a funeral day. Just attended my husband’s 7th and 8th grade football coach’s funeral. Also a Korean War vet with a flag folding and 21-gun salute, he was the kind of coach who got to know his players’ families and who motivated young boys to work harder than they ever thought possible. Complete poem here:

from Dew / by David Musgrave b.1965

Half their lives are spent in clouds
         of condensation or the cold heat
of a winter sun where even the crowds
         seem like droplets on the concrete
rose of the stadium.

DPF / Firestone

Last for the themeless week. This one’s from Tinderbox Poetry Journal, Volume: 1, Issue: 1, posted today. More here:

from [What is the forest language] / by Jennifer Firestone

What is the forest language     dark breath of green.