Tag Archives: National Poetry Month

So Many I Like Let the sands of poetry run through my little sieve.Though below I leave a pile,It makes me smileTo see the pretty pebbles I catchOn the beach between the land and waveAnd put them in my bucket … Continue reading →

Pong I recall things I used to knowthings I lovedNow that I’ve grown oldNo longer chasing butterflies and thinking dreamscome trueor playing my favorite game of chase the ballwith youAnd my broken arm around my favorite boyhood palPong, my dogMy … Continue reading →

Weeding As a child I never understood her drawto the chore of the garden. Why she wouldcome home, kick off her shoes, slip into a terry clothtube top and shorts and kneel in the soil for hours, weedingcrabgrass and Creeping … Continue reading →

Ultrasound The technician turns the light offabove the couch.I float in the cool, underwater glowfrom beyond the mottled, blue curtain,and the quiet whoosh of the ventilationis the sound of waves rolling above my head.She presses the gel-covered probeagainst my chest:the … Continue reading →

Delian Diving In the Symposium, the Greeks got drunkon wine they’d watered down. So I ordera wine spritzer to get the proportionsright, while my dinner companion tells mehe learned the lines for the play he was inby declaiming them to … Continue reading →

Jagged With sunken eyes and shallow breathshe apologizes for the stacks of booksnow smothered by cobwebs and dust.Jagged edges of their broken linesstab the heavy, oppressive air.Like crumbling temple columns dotting earth,they elicit thoughts of once-great civilizationsand challenge me to … Continue reading →

Ode to an Avocado I slice into your thick outer huskthe silver blade gistens as I pierce your skingreen flesh with slight yellow tingemeet my thumb and forefingernot mushy almost too firmI must hold you firmly slice deeply.My bowl of … Continue reading →

Business A diamond. Broken hand.Blood pours from its nails.A face, scratched, cut, looks up.Truncheons smash its eyes.Lids split open. Unable to see.Diamonds drop. Unlined hands.To a store on the coast.A couple kisses each other.Claims the diamond from a box.A light … Continue reading →

Expedition What I’m learning about losing my mother is how everything’s wrinkle deep,each fold a wave. Open-eyed expedition into the creases of blurry waters. It’s not like diving, second-skinned, heavy with oxygen and flippers.More like hold your breath, hug a … Continue reading →

Child, today you are angular mantistorn webclatter of bats Becomeflutter of leaves trilling one toneless crescendosway of tall grass lifting visual songbrook’s jabbering psalm,bright mica Copyright 2023 Paula Schultz Paula Schulz lives and writes in Slinger, Wisconsin, with her husband, … Continue reading →