—: A Recipe For Rhymes :— Try to write a little rhyme You can do it any time; Take some words, dispose them neatly Right across the page discreetly; Make the shimmer shine and sing, Make them love and laughter bring, And perhaps some happy day When your verse has flown away And nestled in a little book Into which all folk may look It will joy and sweetness start In some other person's heart.
—: Grandmother’s Garden :— Grandmother’s garden had old-fashioned flowers, Hollyhocks, roses and rue. And Grandmother dear, in her quaint little gown. Was an old-fashioned, sweet flower too.
Miriam Ott Munson published a single poem in Kindergarten-Primary Magazine (1926), alongside a few poems in anthologies in the 1930s and 1940s. Was also an artist and designer, and presumably worked in education; “On Sept. 25 was one of the speakers at a tea given in Rochester (NY) by the ‘League of American Pen Women’ for Zona Gale. Miriam is trying, through lectures and magazine articles, to develop the spirit of fancy in children [i.e. in the field of child development]. She has had articles and verse in Child Life, American Motherhood, Junior Home Magazine, and The Publishers Weekly. She has written and designed four Christmas cards for this year's trade, a portion of the income going to the Anniversary Gift.” (Smith Alumnae Quarterly, 1924)
—: After Miriam Munson :— by Dick Whyte the sound of a child eating yoghurt like the first few moments of the universe, both happens and doesn't— like rocks loosening the river or a line of ants letting go is a geological lesson
POETRY PROMPT
“Try to write a little rhyme… Take some words, dispose them neatly, Right across the page discreetly; Make the shimmer shine and sing, Make them love and laughter bring…”
Write a “little” (2-8 line) rhymed verse about the process of writing and/or reading poetry, and post it in the comments.
Happy writing!
Forgotten Poets Presents:
Forgotten Poems, a living anthology of obscure and out-of-print poetry from the late-1800s and early-1900s. Explore the archives:
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—: If I Had Known (1895) :— If I had known Two years ago how drear this life should be, And crowd upon itself all strangely sad, Mayhap another song would burst from out my lips...
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More poems about mothers . . .
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—: Waitress :— It's funny— I can't seem to remember anything Except 50-cent checks and customers Who give a smile On the silver plattie of their belly-full good nature. I can't seem to remember anything...
i want to write nothing, and nothing is written,
white ink on white page, milk licked by a kitten,
and kitten then seems content, and away
he goes, and takes with him my nothing day
Awesome post 🥰
I slip between lines like dusk slips into bone.
Words crack open my ribs and nest inside.
Syllables burn the roof of my mouth;
bitter, bright, necessary.
Cadence curls like smoke in my lungs,
writing me into its secret script.
I read until I vanish, reborn
as ink on someone else’s skin.