#barbara crooker

[havingapoemwithyou]

Listen by Barbara Crooker

#Barbara Crooker #poetry #poem

[firstfullmoon]

Barbara Crooker, “And Now It’s September,” [ID in alt text]

#w #poetry #barbara crooker

[llovelymoonn]

barbara crooker spillway: "and now it's september"

#barbara crooker #spillway #and now it's september #september #poem #poems #peotry

[apoemaday]

August

by Barbara Crooker

Summer sings its long song, and all the notes are green. But there’s a click, somewhere in the middle of the month, as we reach the turning point, the apex, a Ferris wheel, cars tipping and tilting over the top, and we see September up ahead, school and schedules returning. And there’s the first night you step outside and hear the katydids arguing, six more weeks to frost, and you know you can make it through to fall. Dark now at eight, nights finally cooling off for sleep, no more twisting in damp sheets, hearing mosquitoes’ thirsty whines. Lakes of chicory and Queen Anne’s lace mirror the sky’s high cirrus. Evenings grow chilly, time for old sweaters and sweatpants, lying in the hammock squinting to read in the quick-coming dusk. A few fireflies punctuate the night’s black text, and the moonlight is so thick, you could swim in it until you reach the other side.

#poetry #barbara crooker #august

[orpheuslament]

but oh the bloom........

#everything is making me cry today fhdbdb dont mind me #words #barbara crooker #dante.txt

[milkymarble]

we’ve made it past the equinox, mold the day with your bare hands.

barbara crooker, anna akhmatova, mervyn peake, mary szybist, vedovamazzei

#poetry #poem #web weaving #collage #mary szybist #barbara crooker #anna akhmatova #mervyn peake

[violettesiren]

So, here you come again, scratching the ground with your thin green nails. Go ahead, unbutton your purple robe, let us see clear into your golden heart. Let us believe in the resurrection of the earth. Forgive us now our unbelief.

Liturgy for March by Barbara Crooker

#barbara crooker

[mikarchive2]

barbara crooker, red amaryllis neil gaiman, the sandman, vol. 7 issue #49

#hello brief lives nation . i would apologize #for connecting nonsensical dots but #this quote just seems MADE for this #barbara crooker #the sandman #m #brief lives #connecting the dots

[vlindervin7]

"Red Amaryllis" - Georgia O'Keeffe / Barbara Crooker

#barbara crooker #georgia o'keeffe #words #art #bc i love the last line sm but never looked it up so! here <3 #jasmine has thoughts

[sapphireshorelines]

#september #september poem #and now it's september #barbara crooker #september poetry #seasonal poetry

[havingapoemwithyou]

forsythia by Barbara Crooker

#Barbara Crooker #poetry #poem #april

[firstfullmoon]

Barbara Crooker, “Grief” [ID in alt text]

#w #poetry #barbara crooker #love with no place to go

[hepatosaurus]

national poetry month, day 13

How the Trees on Summer Nights Turn into a Dark River how you can never reach it, no matter how hard you try, walking as fast as you can, but getting nowhere, arms and legs pumping, sweat drizzling in rivulets; each year, a little slower, more creaks and aches, less breath. Ah, but these soft nights, air like a warm bath, the dusky wings of bats careening crazily overhead, and you’d think the road goes on forever. Apollinaire wrote, “What isn’t given to love is so much wasted,” and I wonder what I haven’t given yet. A thin comma moon rises orange, a skinny slice of melon, so delicious I could drown in its sweetness. Or eat the whole thing, down to the rind. Always, this hunger for more. —Barbara Crooker

#barbara crooker #how the trees on summer nights turn into a dark river #poetry #national poetry month #npm2023

[julesofnature]

AND NOW IT’S OCTOBER, the golden hour of the clock of the year. Everything that can run to fruit has already done so: round apples, oval plums, bottom-heavy pears, black walnuts and hickory nuts annealed in their shells, the woodchuck with his overcoat of fat. Flowers that were once bright as a box of crayons are now seed heads and thistle down. All the feathery grasses shine in the slanted light. It’s time to bring in the lawn chairs and wind chimes, time to draw the drapes against the wind, time to hunker down. Summer’s fruits are preserved in syrup, but nothing can stopper time. No way to seal it in wax or amber; it slides through our hands like a rope of silk. At night, the moon’s restless searchlight sweeps across the sky.

© Barbara Crooker

https://www.writersalmanac.org/episodes/20151004/

#barbara crooker

[blackberryjam]

barbara crooker, grief

#poetry #barbara crooker #🤍

[purisima]

#this has stuck to me #poetry #barbara crooker #grief