Category Archives: Poetry

Old love

Posted on March 18, 2017 by gwpj

How long has it been? Looking back, so much has happened since we met sixty years ago when you were twenty and I was sixteen. We married one year later in the village church, with everyone gathered around — aunts, … Continue reading →

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Being old

Posted on March 4, 2017 by gwpj

Being old happens when you live long enough, the hair on your head turning white or falling out; your steps, once confident, falter, so you carry a cane with a spike on the end so when the snow falls and … Continue reading →

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Family

Posted on January 7, 2017 by gwpj

What is a family? Is it made up of people related by blood, or does it include friends? My family includes both — a hodgepodge of people, a cousin here, my brother and his wife, a nephew and a niece, … Continue reading →

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Sore foot

Posted on October 27, 2016 by gwpj

To reduce swelling in a swollen foot, pack in ice for as long as possible, then repeat until the swelling is gone and the infection is hopefully healed.

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The Mastodon

Posted on September 19, 2016 by gwpj

Just outside the front row of tables in my favorite coffee shop, a lifelike mastodon ambles up and stops, its trunk extended to a little boy. Curious, the boy reaches up and touches the tip of the huge animal’s trunk. … Continue reading →

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What having a son is like

Posted on June 25, 2016 by gwpj

It is like standing in front of God with my roots running deep into the earth knowing one day some other man will stand here his roots running into mine rooted and awestruck as I am as all his ancestors … Continue reading →

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Sun and snow

Posted on June 20, 2016 by gwpj

Several years ago while waiting for a bus on a gorgeous sunny morning, snowflakes began to fall. Looking up at the blue sky, I wondered . . . then looked further to the left of where I stood, where,from a … Continue reading →

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Poetry in motion

Posted on June 16, 2016 by gwpj

Not exactly poetry, but clearly motion.

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Four short poems

Posted on May 15, 2016 by gwpj

    Wren A wren is no hen is she? Spring poem This morning walking to work I saw leaves backing out of the branches of a hedge. Favorite things One of my favorite things is watching my wife and … Continue reading →

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Walking Thunder

Posted on May 11, 2016 by gwpj

  I suppose his ancestors were brave warriors but when he came through the door drunk and sat there telling me that white folks had killed his people and that he was going to kill me if I didn’t give … Continue reading →

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