Coming Soon
National Poetry Month
2017 Sprinkle of
Napkin-Pocket Poems

To Celebrate National Poetry Month in April

Sprinkle your pocket 
poems all over the land, 
in library books, in cafes, 
on buses, in church, at the office, on trains, planes, attached to your email, anywhere you can tuck a poem to be found. 

What are pocket poems? Short-short poems that 
fit on a scrap of paper, a napkin, or cut in squares, small enough to fit in a pocket.  

Email me your best short pocket poem, and I will 
share them on our website for the month of April.

National Poetry Month 
is a month-long, national celebration of poetry established by the 
Academy of American 
Poets. The concept is to widen the attention of individuals and the media—to the art of 
poetry, to living poets, 
to our complex poetic heritage, and to poetry books and journals of
wide aesthetic range 
and concern.  
Spring Ensemble
Photography by
Judith A. Lawrence
Music by Sandy Bender - Happiness

Poets' Quotes

“Be certain that the inescapable…the brilliant bitter irony that "National Poetry Month" begins on April Fool's Day is not lost on this benevolent fool. I imagine, and if I listen just close enough, I hear a shared chuckle: Chaucer, Shakespeare & Plato perhaps ...

Guilty as charged.” 

I remain,

A Merry Prankster in deeds 

              John J. McKenna

​Dusk, After Snowfall

Tracks cross the yard
like stitching on a new
ball just tossed into
the game. How many
hungers flicker within 
mere feet of me, intent 
as a pitcher staring in
for the next sign?

             —Ed Granger

The Road

if the road is willing
and the way
not too hard
we may meet
at the end 
of the beginning
and start again

        —David Sermersheim


Yesterday polarizes
some random magnets.

Light replays a song.
You, you, you, loops 
where the tape is torn,

and time has a room.
I open a door to step out
and step inside instead.
Again. Again.

                   —Ksuhal Poddar


light parts the leaves
in the subtle play
of shadow and hue
and midday 
is all day
and none shall hold sway
when the time is right
the weather clear
hold the moment clear
and memory dear

                   —David Sermersheim


The miracle is you, everything
in a harmonious galaxy, once
in a while a comet, and your thoughts
able to be everywhere at once,
past lives whether you lived them
or not, and even the life of foxes. 

                —Beate Sigriddaughter 


Though you fell off your unicorn
and your wings were broken
still you continued playing
your golden flute.

I admire that.

                  —Beate Sigriddaughter 

My Yard

Footprint in snow
recurring image
worn at its edges
by crumbling melting
wondering who
may have stood here
when Delaware
meant a people.

                     —Ed Granger


Snow-covered park. Now the first warm day,
people and their dogs all out to walk and play.
Melting snow, fields of fresh cold mud
Dogs turn up their noses toward the grazing sun
Mud-coated shoes Mud-covered paws,
All ramble along, as the harsh winter thaws. 
Inside home’s front door, mud everywhere:
People wipe their boots, but the dogs don't care

                                             —Jane Hanser 

Dreams that Hope

The forest is in me now
as I pale into silence, invisible,
except for a few wispy dreams
that might have saved me. 

                   — Bruce Majors


neighbor’s busy bed springs

flower bed colors when the first ray
awakens early

                     —Ksuhal Poddar


Blades of silver moon beams
carve trees from darkness
like cameos,
facet the crests of waves,
diamond-cut sand crystals 
tumbled in blue light.

               —Cheryl A. Van Beek

​Chorus for St. Christopher

Spangled wood,
the transcendental leaves.
I, the quintessential traveler.

                 —Bruce Majors

Native Tongue

The moon reflects
on our day,
speaks to us
in a mirror of light
with a language it borrows
from the sun.
The moon salts its tongue 
in our ocean
and licks the earth
blue and silver.

                      —Cheryl A. Van Beek

Garden of Eden

Orchestrated wings,
songbird bliss,
gentle breeze,
morning's kiss.

I squint to a smile
to the blinding halo
gracing over the stage
of the enchanted woods.
I am born again.

                —Christina Henderson

Double click here to add text.

Remember when

your only  
plan for the day
was to comb the beach
for seashells
pale pink and bleached white
ocean polished pebbles
and all the many
hidden treasures

               —Judith A. Lawrence


Your song 
is a gleam in spring 
iridescent green 
a clear stream 
winding through cedar 
in solitude  
Lift your lament
play your flute at dusk
echo the refrain 
of the Hermit Thrush

                         —Karen Jones

White Pine

Branches wide to wind and sky 
your feathers brush the heavens 
in softness and strength 
high above the jumbled shore  

Tree of old, now you return 
scatter your seed in your native land 
where the wild cry of the loon 
echoes across waters

                         —Karen Jones

The Comet

The sky,
peppered with silver stars,
flaunts its beauty,
as one falls,
like a silver fountain
the night.

               —Betty Jamerson Reed

Photo by Christina Henderson
Painting by Judith A. Lawrence
Now a tear drenched dawn explodes  
  From all a steel grey sky exposed

  —Reynolds T. Davis  
Black Brown Green Blue Grey  
  I relate emulate all such colors of a nightly day

  —Reynolds T. Davis  

Double click here to add text.
from War: A Chronicle

Raw earth
ruptures a hillside cemetery;
mourners numbly watch
as soldiers, with a tug and snap,
alter the coffin flag 
into a perfect triangle, 
while mournful taps laments
the passing of a nation's warrior.

  —Betty Jamerson Reed


bright bluest
silver day
your promise
radiates all
to be
unlike another
this day
with possibility
it be
April not
​                       —David Sermersheim


In some areas
you made me secure.
I could use the washroom
not worried about the wallet
on the main table of the hotel room.

At another level,
issues were raised...
I prefer my robbers.

                           —SANJEEV SETHI


This is my pickle.
I am not quick.
I am on purgatives.

Now you know, love 
this isn’t about you
and your sway.


The Artist’s Masterpiece

A waterscape of
Buffeting water, light
And shadow mixed
Into billowing clouds.
The masterpiece is created.

— Mary Bone

Indigo Eyes

Shades of Indigo
Looking into your eyes
Drowning as if at sea.
An amazing depth of blue-
We make waves.

— Mary Bone


Morning with its many pairs 
of diamond-like legs
slide down the rope of day 
kicking darkness.
It lands like a soft prayer.

— Loretta Diane Walker


Go beyond now into 
a place further than comfort.
Go on an adventure
greater than your imagination.
Go on a journey that will
take you to the depth of self.
Go not an extra mile, but two,
to accept others differences.

—Loretta Diane Walker


I worked hard to get there.
I went to the end of the D’s
only to discover right beneath dwarf
a dweeb named Dwight dwelled in
the already dwindling 
DW section of the dictionary.

— Loretta Diane Walker

Whence Love?

Lest the scientist 
Lose perspective
His memory-
Let us jar it.
The “Big Bang” 
Gives us all the stars
But not
The human heart.

—Frank Cavano

The Countess

Thirsting for love she found fame.
Feasting on fame a love found her.
Still, only Life lived on. She passed
From surprises and the paradoxical.

—Frank Cavano


Midst the majesty of all that is
Nothing stirs my heart like what
May be.

—Frank Cavano

​Invitation to a Poem

The Handshake

Work calloused hands reach out,
grasping firmly and shake.
The contract complete,
no need for paperwork.
A done deal:
Modern words, feather light,
carry no such weight.

—Betty Reed

I come to worship at your feet, 
windswept bow and emerald leaf.

—Teresa Hall

the poet’s directive

keep quiet in person 
shout on paper. 

—Karis Watie


Clinging to a petal,
disturbed by a gust of wind
field skipper holds tight.

— Rosalie Sanara Petrouske

Frolic With Me

Lovely damselfly
come frolic in the tall grass
on this summer day!

— Rosalie Sanara Petrouske


Flaunting white petals
daisy lifts her skirts high
showing off for sky.

— Rosalie Sanara Petrouske

Dorothy’s Last Words

Love a lion
brave or gutless
love a scarecrow
brains or not
but never love a tinman
if he hasn't got a heart

—Alan Harris


Whether poet,
man or bird
if once we’re gone
our words are heard
in prose or rhyme
or metaphor
we shall live on

—Alan Harris

Oval magnolia leaves fall 
then cup raindrops
like sinking canoes.

—Andrea McBride

Children ambush the ibis; 
a hundred white flags rise
and cloud the sky.

—Andrea McBride

Spanish moss hangs 
from the gnarled branch like 
bangles on an old lady's wrist.

—Andrea McBride