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Two Poems by Julianne Todd

31 Mar


There is nothing held so dear

as love.

If only it were hard to win the roses

that in yonder hedge appear,

outdo our garden bugs which bloom within.

But since the hand may pluck them everyday

unmarked they bud, blooms drop and drift away.


There is a typewriter that lies in the attic,

it is covered with gray little pieces of dust.

But if you move some boxes and some old stuff

you’ll find memoriees stacked away.

It is tiny and black as the darkest cave

but there lies many things in this typewriter.

Good memories, bad ones, sad one, and ones

tat will make you want to stay all day.

But alas we must leave for this typewriter must work,

it has many memories to type for us to remember forever.


Waxin’ Poetic with the 4-Weekers

28 Mar

J Diego Frey’s 4-Week Poetry class wrapped up a few weeks ago (bit of a late reaction here), and he posted some thoughts on the Lighthouse Top Secret Blog. See below or the 4-Week Poetry Workshop link on the right for selections!


28 Mar


One million onions are

Like permanent ink

Unchanging, however far

 You go but still think

Of where they came from. On the brink

Of nostalgia but not quite

You’re still floating, but learning to sink

The sun can illuminate both with his light

And both can be shrouded in darkness come night


Tiresome Perplexities

One million onions can be

Compared to, of all things

Shoes. But for babies.

Quite pointless, the bell tolls. Doesn’t ring.

Sometimes it’s hard to even begin

To think why an infant would ever need shoes

“Ten to the sixth power onions!” they sing

They came to the funeral. Paid all their dues.

If you followed this through, then it’s true I’m confused


A Hymn for Him

I’ve come to see I have a paper heart

And now I’ve also realized

There is a subtle kind of art

 To talking using just our eyes

That life is more than hate and lies

But one million onions

Enhancing, though they make you cry

You must open your chest for the love to pour in

And open your mind, for that’s how it begins



There’s a full moon in the night sky

Like that one time

When the clouds stopped by

They were out of line

Like prison bars that don’t confine

His spirit, now he’s set it free

To go forth and define

What his eyes couldn’t see

That all he wanted was just to be