Garden Gate

One of my favorite poems I have written (and I have written more than a thousand). For some reason, it never got posted to my blog. Even if you’re not a gardener, you’ll like this one because it is about you, not the garden. Enjoy the poem!

Garden Gate

A garden gate is not meant to keep out
but to invite in.
Come in!
Come in to dwell
to stroll among the growing green,
to bloom with the daisies
and nourish your soul with playful peas,
rugged kale and
lanky beans that climb the fence to get the best view.

Come in through the garden gate
to a place of quiet.
Hear only the giggle of baby carrots
and the groan of lazy squash
and the steady hum of honey bees courting the lavender.
Listen to the quiet
and you will hear your dreams
in the sway of the maple branches
as the dappled sunshine trips down through the waving leaves
and brushes across your eye lids.

Follow the honeysuckle vines
in through the garden gate.
Everyday is a new garden.
As the tulips wane,
the irises awaken.
The radish turns to wood
as the zucchini knits a blanket of vines in wait for her babes.
Hyacinth gives way to Hostas
spreading their wide leaves across the bed for a picnic.

And, every day you bring a different self to the garden
growing and changing through the seasons.
What does this day hold for you?
What knowledge and love will sprout?
and what old worries and grudges will wither?
Which of your dreams will you tend?
what delicacies will you harvest?
and what weeds will you pull?
Who will you be when you walk through that garden gate?

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Inventory of a Mother of Three

What better Mother’s Day gift than a poem. This is the poem I wrote for my Mom. Feel free to share with your Mother. Happy Mother’s Day to everyone who has a mother – which is everyone. Enjoy the poem!

Inventory of a Mother of Three

13,500 diapers changed and washed.
190 boo-boos bandaged.
234 kid colds tended.
11,000 goodnight kisses.
1,840 rocking chair sessions some with singing.
Countless lessons on manners and proper English
“himself,” “himself” not “hisself.”
90 homemade birthday cakes
made with our favorite meal.
Weekly walks, bike rides, x-country skiing
or hikes in the woods collecting leaves.
Occasional lickins and “you kids go outside.”
Teaching us to bake and make and share.
Encouraging our interests no matter how fleeting.
Giving up on getting us to clean our rooms
AKA pick your battles.
Listening without judgment.
Believing in us.
Forever love and forgiveness.
Always there.
Always Mom.

Thank you, Mom!
Love, Dawn

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More Stamp-Poems?

After posting an international stamp-poem every day for a month, I am missing contact with you. Hopefully you feel the same. To see my past years’ stamp-poems, get the books or search “NaPoWriMo” in the search box below right. For the books, my first collection of stamp-poems is published as Stamp Collection, clever title eh?! As you might guess, the second book is titled Stamp Collection II. Both books contain several poems not published on my blog.

My plan is to publish the World Stamp-poems from April 2019 in a book as well. Hopefully this will happen this summer.

Until then, positive poems and adventures in writing will ensue.

Happy Spring! -Love Dawn

Stamp Collection II cover photo

stamp collection

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Pack Peace

Day 30 NaPoWriMo. We did it! A month of travel. We visited 23 different countries in 29 poems with 29 people/couples. To wrap up, I choose this United Nations stamp with a Peace dove perched atop our world of colorful countries. There are 193 members in the UN including all the countries we visited.

What did we learn? Feel free to comment. For me, I learned that people are people are friendly and welcoming and happy to share wherever you go! Enjoy the poem.

Pack Peace

Packing list:
-quick dry undies
-cotton-nylon socks
-shirts enough to wear twice
-wrinkle resistant pants
-sturdy shoes for lots of walking
-water bottle
-and most important
pack Peace in your heart
to carry with you
wherever you go.


List of countries visited in this stamp-poem project:

Czech Republic
New Zealand
South Africa
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Read and Tell, Iceland

Day 29 NaPoWriMo. Second to last day of this stamp-poem project. So many countries to choose from. I landed on Iceland because it seems to be the “hot” place to visit. One friend brought back a wave-rounded black volcanic rock. Another friend a hand-knit wool sweater with a puffin on it. Another friend loved the geysers, another the wind-swept views. I love that Iceland shows us how to be readers and writers. Enjoy the poem.

Read and Tell, Iceland

Viking settlers
with big stories
sitting in the round house
telling legends
of gods and men.
In a cold place
with long, dark winters
sagas are a sport,
a way to keep the spirits up,
a social way of sharing
“yarns” and poems
while spinning the harvest of wool
and making tools for spring planting

Yes, Icelanders are story tellers,
book lovers, and publishers
in a sharing way
a community way
the book flood
at Christmas
rousing talk of the best sagas.

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The Journey is Worth the View

Day 28 NaPoWriMo. Peru has always struck me as a sacred place. My dear friends Pam and Phil visited Peru. They spent 4 days hiking to see Machu Picchu. Phil said, “I remember being in awe seeing the southern cross while camped along the trail.  So many stars when there’s no ambient light.” They hiked over dead woman’s pass at 13,800 ft and saw beautiful vivid blue butterflies near the top.   Peru also offered them soaring Andean Condors at Colca Canyon, Lake Titicaca, and white water rafting the Urubamba River. Enjoy the poem.

The Journey is Worth the View

The difficult places,
the harsh high rugged places,
the salty, wave crushed places,
the thick dripping jungle places,
clicking with dangers
are beautiful places.
Beautiful places earned
by long treks
questioning yourself
you gaze out over the endless landscape
watching condors with ten-foot wingspans
float on thermal currents
high above green and rocky canyons
terraced with maize.
At the moment of summit
you know
the journey is worth the view.


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Home is Always Home

Day 27 NaPoWriMo. Russia, Российская Федерация, the USSR, Soviet Union, CCCP, the Iron Curtain. This country by any name is still remembered fondly by Victoria who grew up there. Victoria and I worked together at the library. She told me how beautiful was the grand library in Moscow. She remembers her grandmother’s garden, mushrooming in the forest, that her grandad collected stamps. She told me of Moscow’s concentric ringed roads. She remembers skipping school to walk the garden ring. “It is very beautiful any time of year…especially in winter when the huge flakes are slowly falling.”  Enjoy the poem.

Home is Always Home

Home is always home
the good and the bad.
Comparing two friends
one complained of her childhood,
a big beautiful house in free Connecticut,
parents who were busy and neglectful.
Another under communist rule
remembered only the good
gardens, flowers, loving grandparents
fat snowflakes, the awe of a library,
though her parents focused on work
to provide for the family.

Our childhood gives us rocks and sparkling gems.
We choose which to hold onto
I say learn from your stones,
learn your strength,
your forgiveness,
your resilience,
your independence,
then throw away those rocks
into a river or ocean
to wash them clean.
Hold onto your gems,
let sunlight shine through them,
wear them in your crown
for these are your gifts,
your talents,
your values.

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