I’ve been out of studio this week. No worries, I’m fully recovered from last week’s kidney stone attack (thanks for your well wishes). But with Jihong’s university on spring break, we’ve headed for the hills—the Black Hills, that is, on the western side of South Dakota.
The Black Hills are in the middle of a March thaw. They still have enough snow for Jihong to ski, but the season will likely end next week.
My goodness, what an outpouring of reader responses to “Gentle Way Home,” the cento I offered last week! The feedback has prompted me to do a follow-up, especially since you, like so many others, might…
On this second day of 2022, I have to admit I’m emotionally drained. COVID is surging again. Rampaging wildfires have displaced thousands of people in Colorado. Thousands more are without power after record snowfall in…
This week for Staying Power, I sat down to write one thing, and something totally different came out. (Surprise! Ain’t life grand?) What came out was a poem that imitates “The House That Jack Built,”…
After a long, strenuous hike, you happen upon a river. A crude raft is beached on the sandy shore. Tacked to it is a paper that reads: “Take me downstream.” The handwriting strangely resembles your own.
You don’t know who made the raft, or why they’ve left it here. You don’t know how well it’s constructed. Does it even float?
Watch Phyllis give a solo poetry reading for the South Dakota Humanities Council.
How does it feel to be beautiful? In my mind, that’s what you are. What I think of you, though, isn’t as important as what you think of you. If you don’t love yourself, it’s apt to show, one way or another.
Award-winning poet Barbara Crooker commends For the Sake of One We Love and Are Losing, Phyllis’s latest book.
This week Phyllis launched My Poetry Studio, a “poetry play space” where she will post original poems-in-progress.
“We are the prayer for our ailing world / and this is the beginning of our shift.”
Gloria Heffernan’s thank-you poem to Phyllis results in a pandemic response poem, “If You Ever Wonder.”
Working too hard? Read Phyllis’s poem “I Want to Play,” then try writing your own … just for fun.
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