“If you are a poet, you read other poets
for inspiration, that is, for opportunities to steal,
or for the possibility that another poet
will open a door for you that you never knew
existed.”
--Billy Collins, U.S. Poet Laureate 2001-2003
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Monday, June 18, 2007
Sentimental me
Call me romantic
but I like to be wooed with poetry;
your lips shaping the words of
Byron,Tennyson and Patmore.
Nourish me with wild flowers,
steamy lavender baths,
cups of camomile tea.
Sentimental, a girl who survived
Miami nights, Latin love, cooking school--
hours spent classically French--
perfecting lobster thermidor, foie gras,
buckwheat blinis topped with crème fresh & caviar.
I provide refinement
for those who can afford my price.
But my sentimental side sees the value
of a sandwich served
on great-grandma’s chipped china plate,
or the old green chair that sits empty
waiting beside my sister’s books
and worn copy
of Elizabeth Barret Browning’s
Sonnets Of The Portugese
inscribed
My dearest love,
Louise
Christmas 1946
Sherry Pedersen-Thrasher
"Everything to excess. To enjoy the taste of life, take big bites. Moderation is for monks."--Lazarus Long
but I like to be wooed with poetry;
your lips shaping the words of
Byron,Tennyson and Patmore.
Nourish me with wild flowers,
steamy lavender baths,
cups of camomile tea.
Sentimental, a girl who survived
Miami nights, Latin love, cooking school--
hours spent classically French--
perfecting lobster thermidor, foie gras,
buckwheat blinis topped with crème fresh & caviar.
I provide refinement
for those who can afford my price.
But my sentimental side sees the value
of a sandwich served
on great-grandma’s chipped china plate,
or the old green chair that sits empty
waiting beside my sister’s books
and worn copy
of Elizabeth Barret Browning’s
Sonnets Of The Portugese
inscribed
My dearest love,
Louise
Christmas 1946
Sherry Pedersen-Thrasher
"Everything to excess. To enjoy the taste of life, take big bites. Moderation is for monks."--Lazarus Long
Friday, June 15, 2007
Meeting Homer (Hickam)
Tonight I had the pleasure of meeting author Homer Hickam who wrote his memoir in the book "Rocket Boys" which was later adapted to film in the movie October Sky. Currently, Homer is on tour promoting his latest book.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Lovesick
No chicken soup can cure my ill,
no Dr. Seuss, not Dr. Phil,
no bag of tricks, no little pill,
I've got it bad but what a thrill!
Simply stated, I feel elated.
My temp. is up, infatuated;
my pulse is racin', eyes dilated-
straight to my heart, a shot updated.
To tell the truth, this time it clicked-
no urge to run, no nervous tic.
I'm feelin' fine, one smitten chick
been diagnosed case solved-
lovesick!
no Dr. Seuss, not Dr. Phil,
no bag of tricks, no little pill,
I've got it bad but what a thrill!
Simply stated, I feel elated.
My temp. is up, infatuated;
my pulse is racin', eyes dilated-
straight to my heart, a shot updated.
To tell the truth, this time it clicked-
no urge to run, no nervous tic.
I'm feelin' fine, one smitten chick
been diagnosed case solved-
lovesick!
Friday, June 8, 2007
French Candy Kisses
Many thanks to poet John Barrale from Poetry Circle for allowing me to post his poem on my blog. This is certainly a sweet addition to his portfolio. Thanks John!
French Candy Kisses
Praline is from a candy family
she is her Father's daughter
made from nuts, bound in clusters
her sugar syrup sweet
on her European side, Breton married Provence
in almonds and hazelnuts, ripe songs of loveliness
fallen from the trees, sweet cream, long legged maids,
all fluttering lashes, coupled to short stocky men
in dark chocolate moustaches
down New Orleans way, her pecans sweet as bells
cling like fat vines on praline patties, a common delight
sultry candy Louisiana lover, everyone's darling,
enjoyed on a hot southern night,
inviting, they smile, sashaying out of the box
hey boy, want a benne seed wafer
to go with your soda water?
like Louisiana, her family's founder
merci, oui oui, was French
said to be Marshal du Plessis-Praslin
alive 1598 to 1675
the Candy's name originally prasline
but that's jive
any good candy lover knows
the inventor was his cook
Clement Lassagne
but I hear the stuff’s older still
in the Garden, the Big D told Eve
come here sugar, Daddy's mouth is full
I got French praline candy and sugar promises,
for you-all
by John Barrale
June 2007
French Candy Kisses
Praline is from a candy family
she is her Father's daughter
made from nuts, bound in clusters
her sugar syrup sweet
on her European side, Breton married Provence
in almonds and hazelnuts, ripe songs of loveliness
fallen from the trees, sweet cream, long legged maids,
all fluttering lashes, coupled to short stocky men
in dark chocolate moustaches
down New Orleans way, her pecans sweet as bells
cling like fat vines on praline patties, a common delight
sultry candy Louisiana lover, everyone's darling,
enjoyed on a hot southern night,
inviting, they smile, sashaying out of the box
hey boy, want a benne seed wafer
to go with your soda water?
like Louisiana, her family's founder
merci, oui oui, was French
said to be Marshal du Plessis-Praslin
alive 1598 to 1675
the Candy's name originally prasline
but that's jive
any good candy lover knows
the inventor was his cook
Clement Lassagne
but I hear the stuff’s older still
in the Garden, the Big D told Eve
come here sugar, Daddy's mouth is full
I got French praline candy and sugar promises,
for you-all
by John Barrale
June 2007
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Purple Speedo Man
Strolling right beside me,
he's kicking up the sand-
his body buff and bronzed,
red flip flops in his hand.
He's sporty in his cut-
offs, with a sexy, manly stride.
I grin at my friend Sandy
(who sits gawking by my side.)
The heat from this Adonis,
(can't be chilled by chewing ice)
and leaves me scheming how to have him --
choosing 'naughty' over 'nice.'
I peek above my ray bans,
perusing perfect thighs-
then wander up his body,
stopping at his steel grey eyes.
The eyes whisper "catch me,
girl, catch me, if you can-"
he winks and lets his cut-offs
slide slowly to the sand.
Embarrassed that he's caught me
I giggle, smile, then sigh-
and quickly glance back to my book
with no place left to hide.
He turns and jogs into the surf,
oh God! He's ripped and tan-
Have mercy! What a derriere!
On purple Speedo man!
Rising above the crashing waves,
he turns to flash a grin-
then shakes his golden curly mane,
and dives down deep again.
My mind begins to wonder
and wander every stride-
he's cast the spell I'm under,
with peak contracted thighs.
He waves from his Miata,
and gives a Cheshire grin-
then brakes to yell "tomorrow,
you can catch me here again!"
High five to my friend Sandy,
our books tossed in the sand-
as Fabio pales when compared
to purple Speedo man!
Sherry Pedersen-Thrasher
he's kicking up the sand-
his body buff and bronzed,
red flip flops in his hand.
He's sporty in his cut-
offs, with a sexy, manly stride.
I grin at my friend Sandy
(who sits gawking by my side.)
The heat from this Adonis,
(can't be chilled by chewing ice)
and leaves me scheming how to have him --
choosing 'naughty' over 'nice.'
I peek above my ray bans,
perusing perfect thighs-
then wander up his body,
stopping at his steel grey eyes.
The eyes whisper "catch me,
girl, catch me, if you can-"
he winks and lets his cut-offs
slide slowly to the sand.
Embarrassed that he's caught me
I giggle, smile, then sigh-
and quickly glance back to my book
with no place left to hide.
He turns and jogs into the surf,
oh God! He's ripped and tan-
Have mercy! What a derriere!
On purple Speedo man!
Rising above the crashing waves,
he turns to flash a grin-
then shakes his golden curly mane,
and dives down deep again.
My mind begins to wonder
and wander every stride-
he's cast the spell I'm under,
with peak contracted thighs.
He waves from his Miata,
and gives a Cheshire grin-
then brakes to yell "tomorrow,
you can catch me here again!"
High five to my friend Sandy,
our books tossed in the sand-
as Fabio pales when compared
to purple Speedo man!
Sherry Pedersen-Thrasher
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