CENTRAL CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH, PROVIDENCE, RI

Ordinary Day

By  Anna Tanalski

A butterfly’s flight draws near

And tickles my nose

With a taste of candlelit prose

Words flowing through my veins

Rhythms of a heartbeat

Stuck like the concrete on Main Street

Taught red ribbons twisted around my soul

Pulling me in one direction

A whiff of sweet confection

Galaxies beneath my feet

Ripped up pages thrown to the side

The tears rip deeper on the inside

Foggy breath on the window

I trace my name and it fades away

It’s just another ordinary day

Musings and Puzzles

All kept within my pocket

My imagination shoots off like a rocket

Paper doll strings hanging above my head

Questions unanswered

Answers unsaid

It’s just another ordinary day

Lips painted scarlet

And the sky turns to gray

Anna Tanalski

Anna Tanalski is 15 years old and in 10th grade. She has been writing ever since second grade. She loves to read, listen to music, and draw. She has been attending Central Church since eighth grade. Some of her favorite forms of poetry are sonnets, slam poetry, and free verse. Anna is very grateful to be included on the Poet’s Page and in the poetry opportunities at Central.

No Herrings

By Ilse Kramer

The angel who lives in
The stained-glass window
Depicting the Heavenly City
Winks at the sexton
Who is cleaning
The baptismal font

He takes a walk to India Point
I mean the sexton and not the angel
Don’t you know angels don’t walk they fly
He fishes yesterday’s donuts
Out of his pocket
And feeds the sea gulls

The sexton sits on the bench
At India Point
The angel has followed
But declines the donut
Angels carry rations
Of manna

The angel says to the whitest gull
Come see me at home
The gull says perhaps
Are there herrings
In the Heavenly City
No herrings? That is so sad

Ilse Kramer

Ilse Kramer is the Poet Laureate of Central Congregational Church.

On Aging

By Jan Corbett

There is here.
Then is now.
Dreams are memories
decayed… somehow
Life circles back
End to beginning to end,
And time shapes a womb
Again.

Jan Corbett

Jan Corbett is a retired English professor who has published two nonfiction books and many articles in small magazines and academic journals but she is just beginning to write her own poetry. Her other interests include oil painting classes at RISD’s extension campus in Barrington and participation in a local peace organization.

SPRING SENSES

By May Grant

Breeze still bitter,
Robin’s image jells like ice.

Sounds still muffled,
Robin’s music throbs a rhythm.
Homes still huddled,
Robin’s feather wafts from heaven.

Seeds still curling,
Robin tastes each worm anew.

Scents still buried,
Robin shouts

I’m Here,

I’m Love,

I’m You!

© 2011  May Cornelia Grant

May Cornelia Grant has been writing all her life, non-professionally. Her articles have appeared in numerous small magazines and newspapers.

TRANSFIGURATION

By May Grant

The ground is littered with my babies.
The dead poems lie in snowbanks,
serene and sere.

When did my words arrive stillborn?
When did my rhyme turn icy cold?
Here and there a tiny fingernail,
a turn of phrase like a rosy cheek,
a metered leg lies still.

But now they rise like dawn’s sharp edge.
The wind knocks on dark church doors.
White-rimmed and strong, my wings toss and climb.

The ground lies littered with my flowers,
white and pink and tan
raise their fingered arms to the sky,
children tall and strong.

They cast my poems aloft.
I fall to my knees and crush them
into my arms.

Here and there a teenage grin,
a withered smile,
a halting gait
lifts my fresh new words to the altar.

May Cornelia Grant has been writing all her life, non-professionally. Her articles have appeared in numerous small magazines and newspapers.

© 2012 May Cornelia Grant