Sunday Poets

Hi everyone,

Today we have poems by Matt Forrest and Jane Yolen plus a unique video poem by Jeanne Poland. Thanks to all for sharing


Lilies of the Valley hang
Like silent little bells
That neither sang nor ever rang
Of welcomes and farewells.

Red clover, small and softly sweet,
Stands proud despite its size;
White daisies, with their nectar-treat,
Court bees and butterflies.

The Queen Anne’s Lace is in its place,
The buttercups are set,
A pitcher plant provides a vase –
And woeful fly’s regret.

While milkweed, with its many mates,
Sways nobly to and fro,
One tender Lady Slipper waits
For one fair, dainty toe.

– Matt Forrest Esenwine
Inspired by Jane Yolen’s “Tenth Avenue Highline”

Matt Forrest VoiceWorks (blog)  (demos/samples)

For Sunday Poets


A metaphor does not explain a poem
unless it is a mountain poking its head
out of a mist, shouting to the morning.
A spondee stumbles on two flat feet,
and sometimes tumbles along the road,
ending with rocks, stones in place of teeth.
Watch out for anapests rising.
They bite in the baggy places,
under the eyes, behind the knees,
making the lips too stung to speak.
Access alliteration and assonance with care
or you may quickly find yourself
in a doctor’s office, stuttering questions.

A poem in the mouth explains everything.

©Jane Yolen All rights reserved /

Please go to: /
and enjoy: BALANCE explore ACCOMMODATE share

Jeanne Poland

Why Friday is important

Hi everyone,

Three reasons why Friday is important, four if you count the TGIF philosophy. But back to the basic three.

One: Friday is the cutoff for poems to be posted on SUNDAY POETS for this week.So get cracking if you want to share something with us this Sunday!

Two: Friday is three days away from the end of the month so you are running out of time to get your Word of the Month poem posted. Remember, this month’s word is TENDRIL.

Three: Friday is Friday Poetry day and Marjorie at PaperTigers is hosting. All sorts of good stuff happening there so be sure to drop over. .

Four: Renee La Tulippe actually interviews W.B. Yeats on her blog today! That’s right! You have to check that one too!

By the way, did you hear that there are three kinds of people: those who are good at math and those who are not?

Happy Friday, everyone,


Caption That Cartoon!

Hi everyone,

Here’s something new I hope you’ll enjoy. Do you ever look on the back page of THE NEW YORKER and make up captions for the cartoons there? I’m always surprised by the variety of captions people find to apply to the same picture. Sort of like looking at one word and finding multiple ways to become inspired. So I begged my friend, artist Rob Shepperson, to play along with me to bring you: CAPTION THAT CARTOON!

Here’s the first of what I hope will become a regular (or irregular) feature. See what you make of this picture and dream up a caption for it. Try as many as you want to and tell others to join the challenge.

If Rob’s work looks familiar, it should! We’ve done two books together, BUGS, POEMS ABOUT CREEPING THINGS and VACATION, WE’RE GOING TO THE OCEAN.

Rob has partnered with others, too, including award winning Carolyn Coman and J. Patrick Lewis. If any of you editors out there think it would be fun to see a new Harrison/Shepperson collaboration, we do too! Wink wink.

I’m including some links to help you get there faster to learn more about this talented artist. At my request he also included this brief bio.

Rob’s drawings of humans and animals can be seen in children’s books such as David L. Harrison’s BUGS, POEMS ABOUT CREEPING THINGS, and newspapers such as The Wall Street Journal. He is a graduate of the Kansas City Art Institue, and lives in Croton on Hudson, New York.


An albino surprise at Goose Lake

Hi everyone,

Every morning at 6:00 I walk through the house to the kitchen for coffee without turning on a light. I always hope to see some creature of the night on the way home for the day. This morning I was rewarded richly. A family of our fully grown raccoons moved quickly across the back yard, across our neighbors’ side yard, and on down the way toward a thick stand of trees not far away. That was exciting, but what amazed me was that the largest of the animals, the leader of the group, was completely white. I’ve never seen or heard about an albino raccoon. I may never see this one again. But WOW what a way to get the day rolling!

I sat at the kitchen table reading as the night faded into a gray morning. A few geese started their daily conversation. The pair of swans did a fly by, circled the lake, and settled into the water directly in front of the window where I could watch them for a while. Our remaining hummingbird darted by, sipped from the feeder, and off it went. I have to go to a morning meeting now and I just hate to leave this place. I’m going to make a little pitch for my e-book, GOOSE LAKE, which I haven’t done for a while. I’m copying and pasting here from an earlier post. If you haven’t gotten a copy or gifted one to someone else, it’s never too late

Hi everyone,

I hope that in the next month I’ll find a little time to try my hand at promoting GOOSE LAKE. If you look it up and it appeals to you, I hope you’ll get a copy. It costs $3.99. If you like the book and don’t mind leaving a review, those are appreciated. It also helps, I’m told, to “like” it. Perhaps you know someone who might enjoy the collection. Please let them know that it’s available. Thanks! Here’s a sample. This one appears in the new book edited by J. Patrick Lewis for National Geographic called BOOK OF ANIMAL POETRY.

What Was That?
David L. Harrison

If the lake were a mouth wide open to swallow sky and popcorn clouds, the narrow strip of land stretched tightly around it would be its lips. Seeds planted by wind and obliging birds sprout tangled gardens of saplings, and weeds run amok. In rocky places, stones shoulder to shoulder wear sunbathing turtles like bronze helmets.

The lips of the lake never sleep. Life and death meet in the twisted underbrush where herons stand like statues of herons awaiting the unwary. A kingfisher that looks like it needs a haircut watches the shallows for a minnowy snack.

Geese defiant with motherhood hiss away foxes with a hankering for gosling. Finches flit from limb to bank, ignoring sleepy-eyed bullfrogs that need their rest till sundown.

Ducks catapult into the water
and herons’ legs trail like kite tails
in their sudden flight to
somewhere safer.

Flat shells smack the lake.
Bony heads resurface,
stare at their forsaken thrones.

What was that?

Maybe nothing.

A dog barked,
a child ran,
a turtle slipped.

All’s clear
on the lip of the lake,
for now.

Instructions for free Kindle app:

Instructions for free Nook app:

Calling Sunday Poets

Hi everyone,

I’m so glad that you are enjoying my blog’s new feature, Sunday Poets. The first two Sundays have featured eight poets. On Setember 16, we were treated to poems by Catherine Johnson, Cathy Ballou Mealey, Charline Profiri, and Steven Withrow. On September 23, our featured poets were Julie Krantz, Linda Boyden, Brenda Harris, and Cory Corrado. Steven and Cory even provided photograhy to accompany their work.

I’m looking forward to this coming Sunday. I already have one poem: by Matt Forrest. I know we have a large number of poets who frequent this site so don’t hold back. I’ll post on each Sunday those poems I’ve received by the Friday cutoff. All you need to do is e-mail your poem to me and be sure to include any links you want me to add below your name. Sunday Poets is beginning to attract quite a crowd so please join the fun by sharing some of your work.