Northwoods Writers Conference

I had an excellent time at the Minnesota Northwoods Writers conference this June, 2015.

I met new writer friends, connected with writers and poets, was treated to hear craft talks and readings from established authors in many genres, had time to write, and the list goes on.

This was so good!  I hope you look into it if you are a writer and in need of a conference.  I hope they will do it again next year.

Upon returning from this week of being immersed in writing, I have so many ideas and exercises for poetry writing, and a new authors to read and reread.

I can’t quite put how rich this experience was, but I can say this.  Write on!  Poetry on!  Bring me more metaphor!

Let’s go!

Spring

Here is my latest published poem.  It is in the Post Bulletin in Rochester, and honestly, they have published so much of my poetry that I want to give them a big shout out of thanks!

I will figure out how to put up the link to the PB, but for now, here is the poem.  And Happy Spring!!

 

Spring

 I’m the platinum sister.

I am youngest.

 

Robins bring me

to Winter’s hearth,

and she nurses me

for a time, keeping us cold.

But I grow fast and bold.

 

One warm day,

Winter packs her sled

and goes North

with her winds and hounds.

I’ve thawed the ground.

She thrives on ice.

 

I am stronger,

louder and wilder

in each greening day.

I wear Winter out this way.

 

My breath deepens the blue sky

and everything I touch

brings blooms and buds.

I blossom the meadows

I release the mud.

 

Where I run

snow melts and dandelions

grin yellow towards the sun.

 

I vitalize the old

and rid them of raw cold.

They dance with me.

They radiate and glow.

They remember their youth

and why they live.

The is one gift

I can give.

 

 

 

Ah!  The young!  I exhilarate them

with so much trilling life

that they need to sprint,

dance, or scream

because they cannot contain

all my gifts.

 

For some I am too much

too green, and too bright.

All my dazzling light

and scents of earth

flood them

and mud them

till they cry out, “Enough!”

They need Winter’s chill

and inward calm.

I don’t have that balm.

 

So, I thump on

reckless in each day.

Wild in my ways

and spirit light.

 

I am Spring!

I bring delight!