0°Recent Blog Posts - prairiepomes
Guest Post: Another Storm, by Ellen Kartz
Yet another morning after yet another rain, the alley shows the proof of last night’s storm— the puddles in the gravel, in the pavement’s recesses. Trees always look greener in the morning. They suffer the worst in storms, but somehow manage to recover—taller, stronger. It takes us longer to find...
Published at prairiepomes
Yet another morning after yet another rain, the alley shows the proof of last night’s storm— the puddles in the gravel, in the pavement’s recesses. Trees always look greener in the morning. They suffer the worst in storms, but somehow manage to recover—taller, stronger. It takes us longer to find...
Published at prairiepomes
Sound Recording: Certainty of Trees
document.createElement('audio'); https://prairiepomes.files.wordpress.com/2020/06/certainty-of-trees-2020-06-10-4.52-pm.m4a
Published at prairiepomes
document.createElement('audio'); https://prairiepomes.files.wordpress.com/2020/06/certainty-of-trees-2020-06-10-4.52-pm.m4a
Published at prairiepomes
June 7: Urban Gratitudes
gratitude for the gaslines underneath the streets for the thermostat set as well gratitude for the powerlines running from the alley festooned with crows for the sewerlines collecting to waste treatment, cycling back to river gratitude for the pavement and sidewalks the easements and street signs...
Published at prairiepomes
gratitude for the gaslines underneath the streets for the thermostat set as well gratitude for the powerlines running from the alley festooned with crows for the sewerlines collecting to waste treatment, cycling back to river gratitude for the pavement and sidewalks the easements and street signs...
Published at prairiepomes
Goodnight America: Video Poem #3
Originally posted in May, 2018. Resonating with the current moment. Events since cause me to reflect anew on the beauty and sorrow, the potential and corruption, the vast contrasts, in the land of our next-door neighbours. This is the ‘rough edit’ … I’...
Published at prairiepomes
Originally posted in May, 2018. Resonating with the current moment. Events since cause me to reflect anew on the beauty and sorrow, the potential and corruption, the vast contrasts, in the land of our next-door neighbours. This is the ‘rough edit’ … I’...
Published at prairiepomes
June 1: Thank You, Readers
Every day, my site dashboard tells me, prairiepomes.com is visited by people around the world. Thank you for reading my work. Thank you for your kind comments. How odd it is to consider that blogging, in the scant 12 years I’ve been doing it, has become ‘old-fashioned,’ eclipsed...
Published at prairiepomes
Every day, my site dashboard tells me, prairiepomes.com is visited by people around the world. Thank you for reading my work. Thank you for your kind comments. How odd it is to consider that blogging, in the scant 12 years I’ve been doing it, has become ‘old-fashioned,’ eclipsed...
Published at prairiepomes
Song for Space Travelers
One of my earliest memories: summer 1969, in the farmhouse kitchen with Mom radio talking about Moon Landing. Through the Tang years of the 70s, we’d play astronaut games, all of us kids home and schoolyard filled with the allure of space. We watched the space operas on TV, too thrilled at the pr...
Published at prairiepomes
One of my earliest memories: summer 1969, in the farmhouse kitchen with Mom radio talking about Moon Landing. Through the Tang years of the 70s, we’d play astronaut games, all of us kids home and schoolyard filled with the allure of space. We watched the space operas on TV, too thrilled at the pr...
Published at prairiepomes
May 28: View of a Pine
what do they call those? candles? that the pine lifts skyward still. she is winter-killed, red around her trunk, and cramped, encamped between two houses, not the forest she expected at my window as she rises, spring by spring she bears away any excuse for not trying. there is wind, there is sun,...
Published at prairiepomes
what do they call those? candles? that the pine lifts skyward still. she is winter-killed, red around her trunk, and cramped, encamped between two houses, not the forest she expected at my window as she rises, spring by spring she bears away any excuse for not trying. there is wind, there is sun,...
Published at prairiepomes
Meditation: Gold
do you miss the rain ancestors? or is that how you touch earth again? do you watch over one nest? or roam? spirit feet like seeds riding is that you singing in summer storms? do you remember? is that why spruce wears pollened buds? this gold as transient as breath. Image by lldigo via... R...
Published at prairiepomes
do you miss the rain ancestors? or is that how you touch earth again? do you watch over one nest? or roam? spirit feet like seeds riding is that you singing in summer storms? do you remember? is that why spruce wears pollened buds? this gold as transient as breath. Image by lldigo via... R...
Published at prairiepomes
May 23: Heart
become accustomed to the weight memory lays across your heart lift it anyway become schooled in the crack and creak pain of rising one more time kneel anyway numb your skin to the lash every absence a thorn lean in somewhere in all this brush and scrub meaning and renewal send green tight curled ...
Published at prairiepomes
become accustomed to the weight memory lays across your heart lift it anyway become schooled in the crack and creak pain of rising one more time kneel anyway numb your skin to the lash every absence a thorn lean in somewhere in all this brush and scrub meaning and renewal send green tight curled ...
Published at prairiepomes
May 22: Certainty of Trees
Gratitude to the rain. Gratitude to the sky. Gratitude to the many tiny things. What are we supposed to do? Arise into cities, bloom and shed light? It’s true, I don’t think much about how my brothers live. There they stand, gnarled still offering softest green in faithful bargain, to the sky. Lo...
Published at prairiepomes
Gratitude to the rain. Gratitude to the sky. Gratitude to the many tiny things. What are we supposed to do? Arise into cities, bloom and shed light? It’s true, I don’t think much about how my brothers live. There they stand, gnarled still offering softest green in faithful bargain, to the sky. Lo...
Published at prairiepomes
Rainwashed
rainwashed morning sky could last until dusk all low smooth silver and smoke elm queen shakes out her tresses daughter plum shyly offers a branch blue black asphalt path, too, shines here, the cedar fence there, willow trellis peonies contemplate sun to come reach leaves glow yellow, red, burgund...
Published at prairiepomes
rainwashed morning sky could last until dusk all low smooth silver and smoke elm queen shakes out her tresses daughter plum shyly offers a branch blue black asphalt path, too, shines here, the cedar fence there, willow trellis peonies contemplate sun to come reach leaves glow yellow, red, burgund...
Published at prairiepomes
Who Wears the Pants?
Victoria Day just passed, thinking about Queens, Empresses, fashion. Those dresses and notions that decent women’s legs could not be seen. Ripples of that time, that empire, still eddy around the world. Researching my next novel. Watching fashion historian Karolina Zebrowska’s videos,...
Published at prairiepomes
Victoria Day just passed, thinking about Queens, Empresses, fashion. Those dresses and notions that decent women’s legs could not be seen. Ripples of that time, that empire, still eddy around the world. Researching my next novel. Watching fashion historian Karolina Zebrowska’s videos,...
Published at prairiepomes
Call and Response: a Flash Collaboration
say that you’ll light a fire at your going out into the night say that you’ll carry your bright orb of soul through the transit say that you’ll flow through the grey into rosen with gold in your wake say all this: but don’t speak, only colour the sky for a voice. All image...
Published at prairiepomes
say that you’ll light a fire at your going out into the night say that you’ll carry your bright orb of soul through the transit say that you’ll flow through the grey into rosen with gold in your wake say all this: but don’t speak, only colour the sky for a voice. All image...
Published at prairiepomes
Saint Behind the Glass
Here’s a lyrical meditation from NYC author Elizabeth Frank, whose latest novel arrives from Stonehouse Press in November. Elizabeth Frank
Published at prairiepomes
Here’s a lyrical meditation from NYC author Elizabeth Frank, whose latest novel arrives from Stonehouse Press in November. Elizabeth Frank
Published at prairiepomes
camping in search of bears
there was bear poop at the foot of the ravine just by the trail full of berry husks, intriguing to the dogs. there was a cougar on victoria park golf course just below downtown that could put a hole in one. there was a lynx at rest in the legislature grounds approving the shape of... Read More
Published at prairiepomes
there was bear poop at the foot of the ravine just by the trail full of berry husks, intriguing to the dogs. there was a cougar on victoria park golf course just below downtown that could put a hole in one. there was a lynx at rest in the legislature grounds approving the shape of... Read More
Published at prairiepomes
