Poem of the Week: This one from poet, Bruce Pemberton, has been selected to appear in Ted Kooser’s “American Life in Poetry” in a few months. Congratulations Bruce.
Find Third Wednesday on the web at http://thirdwednesday.org/

Poem of the Week: This one from poet, Bruce Pemberton, has been selected to appear in Ted Kooser’s “American Life in Poetry” in a few months. Congratulations Bruce.
Find Third Wednesday on the web at http://thirdwednesday.org/

Like most journals, 3rd Wednesday publishes few landfill poems. They’re hard to come by for one thing. Here’s one from an English poet who demonstrates that rhyme is not dead. Our poem of the week was a contest honorable mention in our Spring issue.

There’s something going on in Bellingham, Washington. We rarely put out an issue of Third Wednesday without a poem from somebody who lives there. Our poem of the week is an example by Tim Pilgrim. It was in our Spring Issue.

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.

Our poem of the week comes from Louisiana poet, M. Rush. It’s from the winter issue, just released.

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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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.
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
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
