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    Sunrise Summits: A Poetry Anthology
    Sunrise Summits: A Poetry Anthology
    Sunrise Summits: A Poetry Anthology
    Ebook137 pages49 minutes

    Sunrise Summits: A Poetry Anthology

    By Northern Colorado Writers, LLC

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    About this ebook

    Sunrise Summits: A Poetry Anthology features the work of twenty-six poets from the writer's group Northern Colorado Writers, LLC. Showcasing a wide variety of poetic styles and talents, Sunrise Summits includes works from award-winning poets, oft-published writers in other genres who are publishing their first poems, and poets whose work is

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherNorthern Colorado Writers, LLC
    Release dateFeb 4, 2020
    ISBN9780578642222
    Sunrise Summits: A Poetry Anthology

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      Book preview

      Sunrise Summits - Northern Colorado Writers, LLC

      2

      Poetry Seeks

      by C. A. Strazer

      Poetry hears

      Heart’s silence.

      Poetry stretches

      Person’s pose.

      Poetry searches

      Soul’s caverns.

      Poetry eases

      Life’s hurts.

      Poetry sees

      Hope’s design.

      Poetry awaits

      Love’s touch.

      Poetry knows

      Faith’s promise.

      Poetry seeks

      Truth’s glimmer.

      Poetry defines

      Life’s purpose.

      3

      Ode To The Works In My Head

      by Dina Baird

      Inspired in the moment, I write in my head.

      So many works that appear and then float away.

      Every day, I write so many things in my head, to capture them all would be madness.

      So I set them free. 

      Some feel like sing-song poetry -

      Lake, lake, river bottom, river bottom

      Tree, know that your gift is appreciated even when the eagles have gone.

      Many are questions that meander into personal essays -

      Why does French Onion soup taste so good when the name sounds so gross? The first time I tried French Onion soup was today, at the age of 47, because French Onion soup sounds sour and briny and disgusting. I can’t believe what I’ve been missing, but still, I know I’ll need to be brave to taste the savory broth and cheese again.

      Some of it is despair -

      Relationships kill. This relationship is killing me.

      Or perhaps it’s my attitude that is killing me. Attitudes kill.

      I am killing me.

      Some of it is gratitude -

      The green grass and melody of the birds

      singing so politely and optimistic in the cool of morning.

      The soft white floating fluffs featured by the sun as they float.

      I don’t even care about the yellow weeds and sneezes that come with their journey.

      Turning my evening walk into a run just to watch the back of my daughter’s hair flying in the wind,

      the pink tassels on her white handlebars mark our summer celebration as I run behind her.

      Piling turkey on wheat with pale tomatoes day-after-day to hear my son’s thanks mom.

      Giving ride-after-ride to hear him laugh and talk with his friends about staying up late and how they don’t ever get tired only to have them all fall asleep on the couch downstairs seconds later.

      I know that time is wicked and soon enough they will be somewhere else and I’ll only have these memories to keep me company.

      These times are good. Today I am so thankful for this summer day.

      Inspired in the moment, I write constantly in my head.

      Words float like the white wisps of summer cotton and dandelion parachutes.

      I’d miss so many things, unable to live in the present moment if I stopped to write them all down.

      To the works that are never captured,

      freedom for freedom.

      4

      Watermelon

      by Lorrie Wolfe

      Never wear a white blouse to a picnic. You’ll get dirty.

      ~ Florence Berman

      My grandmother stands

      a gnarled goddess in her umbrella temple

      bestowing fried chicken

      like golden prizes to glowing champions

      Their burnished cheeks

      grin back in grateful tribute

      as sun-drenched bodies plant themselves

      on her flowered quilts

      She slices home-made rhubarb pie

      laughs, shrugs off the hmmm and oh of pleasured mouths

      wrapping themselves in the bounty

      her rolling pin has wrested

      from earth, old oven, and encroaching arthritis

      On that hot summer afternoon

      I let the watermelon juice drip

      from my bottom lip

      and run inside the neck of my white cotton blouse

      thinking about you

      5

      The Empty Pantry

      By S. E. Reichert

      I was raised in the shadow of a matriarch so strong and amazing

                I felt it only right to model myself on her salt-of-the-earth clay.

                          To pride myself on practicing her never-ending

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