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358th Virtual Poetry Circle

Welcome to the 358th Virtual Poetry Circle!

Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.

Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s book suggested.

Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don’t like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.

Today’s poem is from Gretchen Marquette, read by Kurt Milberger:

Painted Turtle

Summer road the ring around the lake, we drove mostly in silence.
Why aren’t I your wife?
You swerved around a turtle sunning itself.
I wanted to go back. To hold the hot disc of it and place it in the grass.
We were late for dinner.
One twentieth of a mile an hour, I said. Claws in tar. You turned the car around.
Traffic from the direction of the turtle, and you saw before I did, the fifty bones of the carapace,
crushed roman dome, the surprise of red blood.
I couldn’t help crying, couldn’t keep anything from harm.
I’m sorry, you said, and let it hurt.
The relief, always, of you in the seat beside me, you’ll never know.
Driving that road next winter, you remembered that place in the road. Your turtle.
During hibernation, a turtle’s heart beats once for every ten minutes.
It cannot voluntarily open its eyes.

What do you think?

357th Virtual Poetry Circle

Welcome to the 357th Virtual Poetry Circle!

Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.

Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s book suggested.

Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don’t like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.

Today’s poem is from Marie Ponsot, read by Kurt Milberger:

Among Women

What women wander?
Not many. All. A few.
Most would, now & then,
& no wonder.
Some, and I’m one,
Wander sitting still.
My small grandmother
Bought from every peddler
Less for the ribbons and lace
Than for their scent
Of sleep where you will,
Walk out when you want, choose
Your bread and your company.

She warned me, “Have nothing to lose.”

She looked fragile but had
High blood, runner’s ankles,
Could endure, endure.
She loved her rooted garden, her
Grand children, her once
Wild once young man.
Women wander
As best they can.

What do you think?