#versedaily

[abellinthecupboard]

Not My Country

i. My father came to this country through the womb. My mother, too. Their mothers and their fathers, too. But somewhere behind them: a crossing. We dug cabbage and we dug coal. I kill Chesapeake fish my mother cannot fry. My grandmothers keep me from trees where rash and poison live. Things we do not call by name—we do not, cannot speak the language of this land. We drink of its pipes, not of its waters. ii. In Michoacán I plant avocado and lime with my wife, and we play make believe in tall grass. Sturdy dog, basket of mangoes, adobe and tejas, June storm in valley, and then— a baby, my wife nursing in hammock. Now we carry water and open the gate to measure our wellbeing in the cherry's new leaves. I love her in a simple, error-prone tongue, full of clumsy genders and confused tenses. Her father names each tree, but the Purépecha is slaughtered by my settler tongue. iii. With seven generations of shipwreck in his lungs, my grandfather sets his chair in a riot of pole beans and tells me how to save beehive from locust, when to hunt morels, how much Chinese paid for ginseng, and how to dry walnuts. But a country he believed his cannot be mine: it draws borders through my wedding vows. He and I are of a scattering tribe slashing as we go. The sun is set to rise though no one calls it by its rightful name. When the river swallows me and we dive up through marigolds, I will not know to offer song. Who will know to call our names?

— Andrew Payton, featured in VerseDaily (source)

[versedaily]

[softkyber]

When he left the asylum, some paintings were abandoned or forgotten in a case in his cell,

maybe a companion piece to the ravine but painted in morning light, which changes everything. Sun in the valley citron, and in shadow, rock face purple and rich blue rosemary emerald and russet gold. Path empty, and the music of yellow warblers, his favorite color, that kind of hope.

How the boy who found the pictures showed them to his friend—

"What shall we do with them?"          "We could use them as targets,"

and they propped Les Peyroulets in Morning Sun and shot it full of holes.

Maybe van Gogh would've said the profane is no less profound than the sacred— only more wounded.

— Carmen Germain, from "The Fixed Stars"

source: versedaily

[finishinglinepress]

FLP CHAPBOOK OF THE DAY: Spineless: Memoir in Invertebrates by Melody Wilson

On SALE now! Pre-order Price Guarantee: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/spineless-memoir-in-invertebrates-by-melody-wilson/

Spineless: Memoir in Invertebrates looks at #life from the ground up, as well as from the curtain rod, and the window screen. This collection of poems explores the relationship between the hand and the small creature held in the hand, between the aquarium wall and the being on the other side. We know how our lives are touched by the #creatures lying on the rug or the windowsill, but what about all those we can scarcely look at? Spineless: Memoir in Invertebrates attempts to do that. #nature

Melody Wilson’s recent work appears in Quartet, Re Dactions, Sky Island Review and on VerseDaily. New work will appear in Sugar House Review, Minnow, and Nimrod. She received the 2021 Kay Snow Award and recognition for the Oberon, Dobler, and Pablo Neruda Awards. Find her work at melodywilson.com.

PRAISE FOR Spineless: Memoir in Invertebrates by Melody Wilson

Spider, firefly, snail, cricket, starfish, maggot: a spineless creature does indeed make an appearance in every one of this chapbook’s poems, but that commonality is not the only notable feature here. Each of Melody Wilson’s poems relays a part of her personal history. Each shines with lyric grace. Butterflies “corrugate / trunks like furred lungs molting silver / and sage.” Octopus tentacles “twine / dozily among themselves, / in and out, / sentient fiddleheads.” Wilson is a poet who can call a galaxy into her lines, offering us “all the elusive matter // that flutters and glows.”

–Paulann Petersen, Oregon Poet Laureate Emerita

The poems in Melody Wilson’s Spineless: Memoir in Invertebrates buzz, hum, creak, and slide, and do what my favorite poetry does: remind me there’s a bigger world outside of me, and I would do well to pay attention. These poems, as varied in form and approach as that branch of organism itself—the invertebrate—tell stories of family, memory, worry, wonder, and loss, and do so with sharp wit, beautiful imagery, and style. One can’t help but fall in love with Melody Wilson’s vision and voice.

–Jeff Whitney, author of Sixteen Stories (Flume Press) and Radio Silence (Black Lawrence Press)

We don’t have to be entomologists to appreciate Melody Wilson’s intriguing chapbook. As insects like fireflies, ladybirds, crickets, roaches, and garden snails thread their way through these well-crafted poems, she situates them in the landscape of memory. With a voice that is precise, intimate, and tender, she captures moments from childhood to motherhood and invites us to experience them with her. For example, metaphorically describing her own pregnancy, she writes, I don’t recall deciding, just evolving, one stage to another,/migrating like a monarch from dark to light./You fluttered first on a drive to Salinas. The subtlest/brush against my heart,/and in that instant,/I came to exist.These poems exist to engage us with a master poet who reveals––and revels in ––the beautiful truths of verte- and invertebrates. What a creative achievement!

–Carolyn Martin, Ph.D., poetry editor of Kosmos Quarterly: journal for global transformation

Please share/please repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #poetry #chapbook #read #poems #nature #life #creatures

[auntiewoot]

Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven: - KJV Luke 6 v. 37

Luke Chapter 6 verse 37 King James Version

[rabbit-light]

Feral

That year the world handbasketed to hell,                        To bind our busted              Loves to something guileless and frail

We brought a rabbit home. We bought the cage,                        The sweetest timothy,              The pellets and the pine. We rearranged

The house to make him room. We couldn't wait                        To rest his softness              In our laps, to feel him soften

To our touch, to touch the tender of his head                        All undefended.              But he flinched from every gentle,

Every gesture in his presence, trembled                        When we tendrilled              Green shoots to his feeding,

Hunched for cover at our coming. Every evening's                        New endeavor              To lure him into his enclosure

He fled, and ended hackled in a corner                        Heartbeating              Like we were predators.

The more he ran, the more we had to chase.                        Anon, apace,              We each fulfilled the other's fears.

Kimberly Johnson

[constellationsvn]

Psalm 30:5

For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.

[poltorakjacek]

Alive are those, who are being loved Zombie/undead photo session with @myszull and @cruellatmon #zombie #undead #dead #candle #candlelight #longtimeexposure #zofiówka #cruella #hair #dyedhair #ruins #psycho #lowlight #grain #art #tittle #verse #versedaily #boyandgirl #womanandman #blackandwhite #blackandwhitehair #redhair #nice #nikon #d7000 #sigma1770 #loiso #quality #cosplay #costume #choker #lenses #eyelenses #beautiful #awesome #hospital (w: Opuszczony Szpital Psychiatryczny "Zofiówka")

[therevdeecee]

#Repost @prayer_klinic ・・・ Commit your work to the Lord and your plans will be established. #proverbs16 #bibleverse #biblestudy #versedaily #dailyverse

[conniemhogg]

Deep calls to deep at the sound of Your waterfalls; All Your breakers and Your waves have rolled over me. (Psalm 42:7) . . . . . . . . . . #waves#crashing#bible#versedaily#puglia#portoselvaggio#paradiso#oceans#creation#blue#italia#italy#wanderer#puissance#mer#mare#italie#home#sea#air#psalms (at Porto Selvaggio)

[ioannemos]

i can pinpoint the first time i read here, now, gone by bob hicok bc it was the poem of the day on versedaily dotcom and at the time i had versedaily as one of my automatically opened tabs bc i still used chrome. february 16, 2019. i keep forgetting what it’s called and it’s a pain to google so here’s the link for future abbie

[versedaily]

[midnightbreezy-blog]

Commit your work to the Lord and your plans will be established. #proverbs16 #bibleverse #biblestudy #versedaily #dailyverse http://ift.tt/2mdJNIT

[auntiewoot]

And it shall be said in that day, Lo, this is our God; We have waited for Him, and He will save us: This is the LORD; we have waited for Him, we will be glad and rejoice in His salvation. - KJV Isaiah 25 v. 9

The Book of the Prophet Isaiah Chapter 25 verse 9

[versedaily]