Pamela Leavey

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Category: Poetry

Food For Thought: Wonder

Sandy Point, Plum Island, Massachusetts

Without the state of wonder that blossoms when graced with the vision of nature we would surely be lost, for as I feast my eyes each day upon the river that fluxes with the tides afore my eyes, I am touched by the grace of the universe. The greatest gift to humankind is the world in which we live, the nature around us. The rivers and the seas, the mountains and the beaches, the sacred places, are where we must all go to unburden and renew. Wonder is what heals us. Wonder brings us joy. Wonder, that sense of pure awe that touches us in the midst of nature is the primal conduit of joy.

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Food For Thought: The Bend at Eagle’s Nest

Here at the bend in the river, at eagle’s nest, is where the sun glimmers on the water casting its shimmering light in such a manner that it illuminates my mind with both queries and answers simultaneously, for that beam of sun is so brilliant that I am blinded by its presence.

A million words race through my mind ricocheting off the water and tumbling down the river, running off to the sea. It is here in this curve of the river that I let go of a little pain and let in the glorious glow that I seek. I stop, I soak in the sun, and I turn back, warm and renewed, lighter, and brighter. I know the words I spilled down the river will return to me on the page. For it is here, I draft the questions that need answers. And, it is here, that the answers come to me. The light converging on the water, even in its palest or darkest glow, speaks to me, all knowing.

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Tiny Tender Tendrils

Tiny, tender tendrils of trees reached tenuously to the sky in askance for love and light on a raw fall day. The wind blew fiercely shaking the tiny tender tendrils of trees all about me, as I walked along the river. There were layers upon layer of colors and textures laying beyond the naked trees like soldiers standing steadfastly along the river. I saluted the shivering tendrils shaking in the brute wind and I walked on, seeking the sun, where the tiny, tender tendrils of trees did not stand saluting the cadmium sky.

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Ducks On The River

Ducks on the River
Ducks On The River
by Pamela Leavey

The line moves
Drawn and driven
By a finely feathered force

It fans outwards
Creating a palpable pattern
Of disruption.

They look like small children
Scampering about
On a green lawn—

They flap their wings
Suddenly, they lift off
Splashing the still water.

They spiral downward
Then swoop and swirl
On the wafting wind

They sweep, swerve
Swivel and dive
And then they diverge

Back into the motionless drink,
Creating fresh, fluid
Lines of movement.

Suddenly, the lines begin to dwindle
While they intermingle
Amidst the still steel blue water

Motion becomes
Barely perceptible—
Reflection resonates

As the still water
No longer replicates
The movement of mallards.

Originally published on Red Skies Magazine.

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Poem: Ode to Cappy

Ode to Cappy

Another soul slipped through the crack today.
Gone, gone, gone
From this river, he will be,
Never again to trawl the sea.

Last summer he pulled in his last net,
He hauled up his last catch,
And he shucked his last scallop shell.
He never threw the little ones back.

Cappy caught the last fishing boat today, ending the pain
But I suspect if you asked him where he was going
He’d have said,
I’m going straight to hell, cracking a toothless smile.

I remember the last time I saw him
That smile stretched as wide as the sea
Acting like an eccentric fisherman
However, that might be.

Cappy had a soft spot, much like a tender, tiny scallop
The ones he never threw back,
Those were the most precious
He would crow, and of course he would know.

We saw an angel in the clouds today
Not long after Cappy’s name came up in conversation
He’s still hanging on to the life raft you said
Not ready to be set free.

Cappy was of the river and the sea
And they were too, of Cappy
He knew every river inlet intimately
He lived to roam the sea.

I took a picture of that angel cloud
I didn’t know why when.
Not long after I dropped you off, the word came
Light a candle for Tommy, he has passed.

Some folks will say
This river will never be the same without Cappy
I cannot help
But agree.

Poet’s note: This piece was written March 9, 2017 to an old friend who passed quietly away from cancer. Studying a variety of poetic forms in graduate poetry workshop at Salem State University, elegies are one of the many poetic forms we’ve read and some have written for class. I’m working on a series of 8 – 10 poems for my final in my class, as this piece isn’t to be focused in that collection, I wanted to share it here on my blog. I do have another elegy that I do plan to include in my final collection.

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Book Review: Poems in the Manner Of

As a lover of poetry and a graduate student in the English – Writing program at Salem State University, I have not only found Poems in the Manner Of, to be fun and interesting to read; I have also found it useful for my class.

I am currently working on my M.A. in English – Writing at Salem State University, and I am revisiting my own connection to reading and writing poetry after many years away from the genre. That said, I really enjoyed reading some of the poets whose work David Lehman emulates and pays homage to in his book.

A Lehman’s book offers poetry writers a great opportunity to explore different styles and be inspired by the works of others, to sometimes create a piece based on another poet’s topics, ideas and styles and make it all our own.

Given this, Lehman provides plenty of inspiration as well as insight to the poets, which is invaluable to the student of poetry.

Emily Dickinson, Robert Frost, Shakespeare, W.B. Yeats, Rilke, William Carlos Williams, Wordsworth, Neruda, Virginia Woolf, W.H. Auden, and Charles Bukowski are among the poets who are featured in Lehman’s Poems in the Manner Of

This is a great volume for poetry lovers, poetry students and people just starting to appreciate the vast world of poetry.

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