An Artist who Never Cowered from Being his Unconventional Self “Few people in the two centuries since Emerson issued his exhortation to “trust thyself” have countered this culturally condoned blunting of individuality more courageously and consistently than E.E. Cummings (October 14, 1894–September 3, 1962) — an artist who never cowered from being his unconventional self because, in the words…
One month of illustrated short poems by Elizabeth G. Howard Since April I have been working on a 100 Day Challenge to write 100 poems in 100 days. Over the summer there were some distractions and I started to miss some days. As I approached August I decided to approach the month with more focus.…
I prefer to think of “Lack of Motivation” As a quirky town one visits Not unlike The North Pole or Reno, where brick streets Coo under your tires Where coffee cafes Serve decaf in recliners to Where snack waiters weave Through the Lazy Boys with Free samples everything with Cheese, the spreadable Kind with wine,…
A list of things the might happen to you when you read poetry you finish quickly you don’t feel full you encounter nature odd feelings come up you go somewhere else, on a trip of the mind everyday objects reveal themselves language unravels and twists around you feel uncomfortable, but not unhappy about that you…
It’s a fine balance — to Excuse oneself of one’s Daily failings while Simultaneously keeping Inherent laziness in check. Somewhere along the Spectrum between Perfectionism and total Sloth-dom, I rise to Today’s occasion of To dos. On the one hand I know I am Failing utterly at Living in the now As I continually Check…
EHoward · Cheers to the Oblivious An Ode to America 2020 Cheers to The Oblivious and In Love with Ignorant Hope You know that you are American If you are alive And not that well, Living in the world in 2020. Reading one after another News article and yet Still holding out hope (In…
Bye Doug. But before you Go, let me just tell you that I know your smile. Those gleaming teeth A smirky look. A gentle heart. I can still hear you laugh, Like a snicker rolled into a wave. Your fine blonde hair (Gone white in the Summer sun), I remember. I remember the dock at The…
Let me tell you the story about Sunflower seeds and The accidental garden that Changed our pandemic world. After we had been home in March A few weeks, the wave of strangeness Refused to recede. Waking and Sleeping hours began to Acquiesce to each other and So I found myself often fully Upright at 4…
Remember Anne Hathaway? A few years back she Hosted the Oscars. A guy who shall remain Nameless was also there but Was he really? Because She danced, sang and Joked circles around him. I’ll never be Anne Hathaway (Or Rebel Wilson, for that Matter) but I do remember The fine figure she cut that Evening…
Who is Sally thinking about today? Her daughters. Her friends. Faith. Her mom. Dan, of course. On any given Friday, Sally jumps to the beat of love. Sally moves to move you, drives to inspire you. A Monday morning dawns and she Breaks out of the blocks, running down The day’s, the week’s, the season’s…
Because spring masquerades with us Because friends continue to report I can’t breathe Because although my heart drags Daffodils design to have their way. Because spring upholds its wretched promise to us Because friends scrabble to apologize If I’d only known Because passing sorrow remembers my shape Regardless of my shrinking wardrobe. Fill up the holes, the advice calls. Plug up all the places the…
Let’s keep the Earth clean. Do you love the Earth? I do. PEOPLE! Don’t litter. — day 22, by Tati
I experienced mizzle, again, tonight. This time, without you. Our first mizzle draped the English town of Dover at night. Friends’ laughs echoed in our wake. A mizzle clouded all the air space, As we strolled under repeating Streetlights from B&B to seafood joint. We arrived damp, the standard condition of Englishness. Our second mizzle–…
Love is a fingerprint Shared between Exactly two people– Nothing repeats. No coda, no lookalike No twin affair possible Replicated or paraphrased– Later in life. My heart knows the Vinegar taste of you. I distinguish your laugh Among the rubble– One I discern only between Lines and across Miles and beyond uncounted graves. I am…
Leonard Nimoy’s rumored penthouse in Vancouver Was easy to spot– a pin oak tree growing Atop the 19th floor at English Bay. Think about the inches nearest To you. What’s in your line of Vision? Mine: Target bags of plastic eggs A rubbery Fitbit, Telling me to move. Wood. The mantle carved, The Pictures framed, the copies…
