Our poem of the week from Suzy Harris is perfect for the season. Suzi’s poem was an annual poetry contest finalist from the spring issue of Third Wednesday.
Light of Spring
Posts
End of a Love Story
Third Wednesday’s Poem of the Week from our Sping issue.
Read the Spring 2018 Issue
Third Wednesday Poem of the Week
Our “Poem of the Week” features an experimental poem by Pigpen Madigan. You can read the poem in the conventional way or read two poems, one in parentheses, the other not, separately. We have paired it with a photograph by Rana Williams. Both are from the Winter issue of Third Wednesday.
The Word 2
Our poem of the week comes from Louisiana poet, M. Rush. It’s from the winter issue, just released.
Chamber Musicians Also Wash the Dishes, Check the Mail
Our Poem of the Week is a piece by one of our favorite poets, Jack Ridl, who is from Michigan. It’s a great poem with an even greater title.
Chamber Musicians Also Wash the Dishes, Check the Mail
But now the chamber musicians are
just past halfway in Glazunov’s Elegy,
the part where in rehearsal they stopped.
“It feels as if I’m behind.”
“I don’t think so. I think I’m ahead.”
When I listened all I heard was a whole note held
in the third movement of a symphony
by Tinnitus, all I felt was the wax waning
onto the timpani of my ear drum.
Next comes another elegy, this by Suk,
Suk who was fifteen when he wrote its
sorrow-filled walk through what he did
not yet know. The chamber musicians
know. They carry elegy in their fingers.
They open the world on the other side
of every note and let us breathe
within the haunting space between each
touch of key and pull of bow. They believe
heaven is between the stars, music
in the empty sleeve of the one-armed man.
-Jack Ridl
Douglas, Michigan
Haiku / Kathleen Chartrand
Our poem of the week is titled “Haiku”, but it obviously is not one. It comes to us from Kathleen Chartrand, who lives very near the Land of Oz in Wichita, Kansas.
Haiku:
can
you swallow rocks
rolled in the mouth of rivers
or tasted by
fish? do
scales whisper truth
flaking from slippery seers
diving into
night? water
reflection gives
mercy to past transgressions
lingering from
guiltis
sea salty foam
from endless tears? seaweed grabs,
twisting
apart lieswhat
of the mermaid
song illuminating night,
crafting oyster
pearls?
Kathleen Chartrand
Wichita, Kansas
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Read the Autumn 2017 Issue
Poem of the Week
Ten lines. That’s all you need. Our poem of the week is by a Michigan poet who has a few words of wisdom from his Grandpa. It comes from the fall issue of Third Wednesday, which will be in the mail to our subscribers in just a few days.
For
Life’s Dance
Grandpa
taught me to slow dance
for
that first dance in fifth grade.
Place
your right hand,
just
firmly enough,
on
her back,
so
she can feel it,
Then
she will decide
if
she wants to move with you.
That’s
all I remember –
all
that ever mattered.
Timothy
Philippart
Holland,
Michigan
Poem of the Week
Unless you’re a birder, “kettling” may be word you’re not familiar with, an obscure word that is both title and subject of a poem by Lisa Timpf of Simcoe, Ontario. You may still want to look it up, but Lisa illustrates the meaning for us in a picture of words.
Kettling
no
vessel of heart or hand
large
enough to encompass
this
kettle of migrating raptors
riding
the updraft
coasting,
in lazy-winged spirals,
while
we, like admiring ants,
stand
clod-like and rooted to the earth
so
far below
sharp-taloned,
keen-eyed
afire
with a fierce and magnificent beauty
they
speckle the overcast sky
their
cries harsh and primal
their
gyrations an echo
of
the enigmatic circle
of
life
itself
Lisa
Timpf
Simcoe,
Ontario
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