Sunday Poets

Hi everyone,

It’s time for Sunday Poets. My thanks to Jeanne Poland for letting me reprint her poem, “Leave Dance Prints.”

I didn’t hear from another poet for this past week so I’ll pop in one of my own poems. I hope to hear from more of you this coming week.

Leave Dance Prints
By Jeanne Poland

On this poem.
Leave footprints.

It is
Made by hand.
A grand gesture.

Not public;
Like some pimple on your face.

But spoken
On the tongue:
Whispered for you.

On this poem.
Leave footprints.

If you will;

On this poem.
Leave dance prints!

If you’d like, please go to Jeanne Poland’s Poetry Blog to see her work from the past year:

E-copies of her photos and poems can be found at:

by David L. Harrison

“Watcher” was on the second line of the brochure
so all I saw at first were the words at the top:
“Be a Better Butterfly.”

And I thought, being a writer, or rather I wondered,
who was writing this brochure, and for whom?

Because I’d guess that most butterflies,
though drop-dead gorgeous,
are quite likely illiterate, or have, at the most,
a limited vocabulary of words they recognize in print.

So imagine my surprise to think that somewhere
a motivational butterfly bent on improving the lives
of those less fortunate was helping singles get dates,
encouraging fat moths (who technically are not butterflies,
but a customer is a customer) to take off a little around the middle,
suggesting the right blossoms to go with wing color – that sort of
thing – and had actually published a brochure.

And let’s face it, being a butterfly today is not what
it used to be when food was plentiful and species
could count on the next generation being around
to carry on the family tradition.
It makes more sense now than ever
to become a better butterfly!

But just when I thought I’d blundered on one of the most
astounding discoveries in all entomology,
I moved the next piece of mail, spotted “Watcher”
on the second line, and tossed the whole embarrassing affair
into the trash.



15 comments on “Sunday Poets

  1. I love how Jeanne’s poem is like a voice getting louder. I love the line Like some pimple on your face.

    David, I get to know you a little bit better with each poem. This is another one that made me laugh out loud.

  2. I admire your creativity, Jeanne, and the way you overlay language and image. Bravo! And, David, your poem left me wondering… wouldn’t it be fun to write a bunch of poems about things we misapprehend at first? Thanks for making me laugh today!

    • Thanks, Julie,

      My picture book with Hans Wilhelm, WAKE UP, SUN! is based on the concept of confusion: a flea bites a puppy on the ear in the middle of the night; the dog wakes up and doesn’t see the sun. The story begins with that confusion. Sales to date have exceeded 1,100,000 copies so the subject must resonate with a lot of folks.

  3. I enjoyed the intimacy implied from Jeanne’s poem, that we readers can have a part in the poem, too. And love your poem, the wondering at a straight line from an advertisement, David. A smile is a nice thing to have on Sunday morning. Thank you!

    • Hi Linda, and thanks for your comment. It really happened that way. Well, maybe I made up some of the stuff in the middle . . . .

  4. Honored to be doing a duet with you David!
    And Julie, I do love the theme: misapprehension, Will create one today after I read the Scripture in Church and attend an Opera.
    Linda, want to know more about you…
    Jeanne Poland


    I thought the cosmos laid the foundation of the earth.

    I thought the sun determined earth’s measurements.

    I thought the stars sang together to lay earth’s cornerstone.

    I thought birds stretched a line upon it.

    I thought the heavenly beings shouted for joy.

    I thought I could call the clouds to rain.

    I thought I could call forth lightning.

    Or tilt the water-skins of the heavens.
    Missed it.

    Or have understanding.

    Hunt the lions.
    Crouch in their dens.
    Satisfy their young.
    Provide for the raven.

    I misapprehended.
    It was God…all along…Infinite
    Not me….infinitesimal.

    (see Job 38;1-7; 34-41)
    Jeanne Poland
    All rights.

  6. David, you slay me. What could be better in the wee hours — when my eyes are struggling to stay open just a bit longer to finish this bit of work — than to run across a motivational butterfly, ready to coach me on from the sidelines. I may not technically be a butterfly but, as you say, a customer is a customer.

    Thanks for the late-night chuckle. 🙂

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