Friday, September 29, 2006

Carl Phillips

Saw Carl Phillips read tonight at school. It was great.

Also, I'm one of ten finalists in a contest for a Arlington library. I read my poem, "At the Holiday Inn" on Sunday, so wish me luck. I'm nervous but I'm sure it'll be fine.

I'll post the poem later.


Tuesday, September 19, 2006


Hello everyone,

I've been swamped with homework. Graduate school is all about reading, giving presentations and writing papers apparently. It's much harder than my undergraduate days. But, I'm hanging in there. Right now I'm reading Small Island by Andrea Levy. A very good book about people from Jamaica who immigrate to England. There's more to it than that of coarse but that's the main idea.

Here's a new poem that hasn't been edited yet. Not sure where I'm going with this one but it's for Erin, you know who you are. Tell me what you do and don't like about it. Cheers. Sarah L.

Poem For A Friend

~For Erin

The clouds weave about the sky today.
An autumn wonder is 80 degrees
yet here in Virginia we find such a day.
I think of you miles away and realize
how days can stretch and I wonder at time.
I miss you friend. I wonder at birds
crossing your path and chicken legs
falling from the sky. This is absurd
but true. We work with line breaks
and I count syllables only to realize
this doesn’t make me a better poet.
And coffee only makes me think
of you, intent and leaning on a dirty
table at Denny’s. And here when the café
closes, we leave.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Seven Syllable Poem

Hello everyone!

I haven't made a post in awhile because I've been busy with school. I have a class called Form of Poetry where we write form poetry. Here's a poem that's seven syllables to each line, even the title is seven syllables:

How The Dead Roll In Their Graves

A cemetery basked
in early morning light stands
alone and eager for the
day to begin. The dead clutch
to their caskets. And I walk
this dirt path in search of the
one tombstone to open my
mind. I will rub my skin on
the cold stone, feel the raw
inscription begging to be
read. The dead roll carefully.

Writing form poetry is harder than it seems. I've also written a poem in iambic pentameter which I might post later.
Enjoy! And please post comments, they are welcomed.