I glide my sandaled feet over cool fescue grassthat is recently dappled with crimson maple leavesas I ponder if I am feeling the correct amount of gratitude.Appreciation is fleetingif I allow the assassins of peace to redirect my interest.Am I looking for something I will always want?My overgrown garden craves[Read More…]

KitKat, oh KitKat,Where art thou thee?So sweet and delicious,So chocolatey and non-nutritious! You bring joy and loveWith your chocolate and wafer.Now, let me eat you!In my stomach you will be safer. From Halloween to EasterTo Christmas break.Let’s stop and enjoy a KitKatFor goodness sake! Aiden Baker, Hardwick This poem was[Read More…]

Today I brought you sunflowers, the ones I grew just for you.As I planted them, and watched them grow,the memories of you began to show. I remember meeting you years ago—a bouncing, beautiful little girl with so much to show.The sunflowers grew, just as you did,reminding me of prom, graduation,[Read More…]

No judge. No jury. No trial.Put him on the ground.Shoot him.He’s dead. Ross Connelly, Hardwick This poem was written for the Verse-Village celebration of April Poetry Month.

remember punk.punk doesn’t care if you have big bonespunk doesn’t stopremember punk. Catherine Eaton, Walden This poem was written for the Verse-Village celebration of April Poetry Month.

I step outside and hear birdsong      on the -14 degrees sunny March morningand the laughter from my daughter sliding,     face first, down a bank of snow.Beside the woodstove, I feel the warm      embrace of my loveand see the brightness of felted wool     glowing on our dining table.Later, I bask the illumination of the full[Read More…]

ghosts of peo / ple hiding in this house / they grew up in and left / hidingunder tables in clo / sets long thin men pale pe / ople dark people all hidden /separately in the same room / waiting for the seeker to finis / h countingendlessly endlessly[Read More…]

Crisp stars lit the dark sky as I strodethrough two-foot deep paths of snow,not caring about my wet hair orhat stuffed into my pocketon this below-zero night.My jacket hung carelessly on my body,as I sauntered like a god,relaxed and open to the frigid night. Emily Hershberger, Hardwick This poem was[Read More…]

Now all of autumn’s gaudy gold is spent,Its bronze & ruby turned to brown and rust.The fiery glory was not owned but lent,Abandoned now to piles of ash and dust.Handfuls of hungry, homeward crows are tossed,Raucous, across November’s slate of skies.The hopeful cricket at my doorstep dies,And all September’s promises[Read More…]

The barred owl sits on a lofted limb,Her white feathers puffed up from the cold.A curious grey mole pops up from the snowy depths below,Suddenly, she swoops!Claws extended; she grabs the furry creature & in two rhythmic gulps,Ga-lump, ga-lump.She swallows him whole. Nina Livellara, Woodbury This poem was written for[Read More…]

You rubbed me wrong. I meanrubbed the wrong way.You rubbed me the wrong way.And me I know, I knowI rubbed you the wrong way.Way wrong.All wrong the rubbing.Two-way wrong rubs.Along the rubbing way. We belong in this club.Our rough edge exposed.I will protect yourswith awareness of mine. Glenn McKee, Hardwick[Read More…]

He said nothing to thembut accepted their presenceAt the press of the last inspectionI think we’re readyI’ll go flying with youlonger and farther awaymaybe the furthest awayAre you supposed to sing?I asked, you know.Wildly, your gaze shiftedthe corners of your mouth upturnedyou sank into an impossible posturechaos just visible out[Read More…]