Welcome to where I am, where my kitchen's always messy, a pot's (or a poet) always about to boil over, a dog is always begging to be fed. Drafts of poems on the counter. Windows filled with leaves. Wind. Clouds moving over the mountains. If you like poetry, books, and music--especially dog howls when a siren unwinds down the hill-- you'll like it here.


MY NEW AUTHOR'S SITE, KATHRYNSTRIPLINGBYER.COM, THAT I MYSELF SET UP THROUGH WEEBLY.COM, IS NOW UP. I HAD FUN CREATING THIS SITE AND WOULD RECOMMEND WEEBLY.COM TO ANYONE INTERESTED IN SETTING UP A WEBSITE. I INVITE YOU TO VISIT MY NEW SITE TO KEEP UP WITH EVENTS RELATED TO MY NEW BOOK.


MY NC POET LAUREATE BLOG, MY LAUREATE'S LASSO, WILL REMAIN UP AS AN ARCHIVE OF NC POETS, GRADES K-INFINITY! I INVITE YOU TO VISIT WHEN YOU FEEL THE NEED TO READ SOME GOOD POEMS.

VISIT MY NEW BLOG, MOUNTAIN WOMAN, WHERE YOU WILL FIND UPDATES ON WHAT'S HAPPENING IN MY KITCHEN, IN THE ENVIRONMENT, IN MY IMAGINATION, IN MY GARDEN, AND AMONG MY MOUNTAIN WOMEN FRIENDS.




Saturday, April 3, 2010

POEM OF THE DAY: THAT TIME by Sara Morgan





Sara Lea (Bishop) Morgan was one of my daughter's classmates (a year older) in high school and a member of the Girl Scout Troop I helped advise, if that's the best word for what we grown-ups did. During that time, I visited her class and had the students write from the prompt "That Time." I found Sara's poem just a few weeks back as I was cleaning out my office. She was probably around 16 when she wrote this. I liked it so much, after all these years, I decided to use it for Saturday's Poem of the Day. I hope she will make the time to come back to her writing despite her busy life as wife, mother, and hair-stylist.


Speaking of which, Sara is now my own hair stylist. She's really into color, she says, but I don't think I'll let her dye my hair green just yet. Maybe next April, though!




THAT TIME




Once in the slowly paced car


my aching ears heard the


storm open up, the sky


was split, no longer blue.




On the way home from


a solitaire day in Georgia


we'd spent, watching the


birds fly in the pale moonlight




The storm turned loose, and


the sounds played along in my


mind, the constant shhhh


the rain drops were making




Coming home that night, I


saw you in my dreams and as


it seemed you were with


me, my mind faded back to


that night in Georgia, with


the Ghost of you, and the


storm rolled on.

---Sara B. Morgan

3 comments:

suzanneleitner said...

Lovely. I love the student poems I have been blessed to witness. Thank you for sharing this one.

joanny said...

So special of you to post this poem for her- I am sure it will enliven or rekindle a spark inside her when she sees it in writing.
In her poem she had a 'calling' even at the tender age of 16 -- can you image what her writing will be like when she has tasted more of life and resumes writing.

Happy Easter Season to you,
Joanny

Jessie Carty said...

that's wonderful! i don't think i was writing anything nearly that good when I was 16 :)