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Channel: Erin Margolin » My Poetry
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New Orleans Honeysuckle: Gramma’s Backyard

image courtesy of lakeshorepreserve.wisc.edu   Honeysuckle vines spill over the fence, falling like a fountain, cascades of bright green. The white flowers in my grandmother’s backyard look like tiny,...

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Bourbon Street Barefoot

It’s dark and late, so late I don’t even hear the Clydesdales clopping anymore. Ambling down Bourbon Street barefoot, I admire my OPI Red pedicure, although surely it will soon be coated with dirt....

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Magic & Mystery

Magic, mystery and someone else’s master plan have brought you here. You perch daintily in my lap, delicate as a flower. I will not hurt you. You’ve traveled a long way. You are tired. I will take care...

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The Gift of Rain

photo courtesy of Photobucket   the pitter-patter of long-awaited raindrops. a slow, soft murmuring sort of morning; everything moving slowly. snuggled in my warm bed with sheets desperately needing to...

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Where I’m From–New Orleans

Looking for my Storkie giveaway? CLICK HERE! I found this writing excercise via Galit Breen’s blog, These Little Waves, and she got it from Mama Kat. It’s been on my mind for awhile, but I’ve been...

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My Tell-Tale Heart

Looking for my Storkie giveaway? CLICK HERE! This week Galit Breen asked us to conjure something. An object, a person, a feeling, a color, a season- whatever we like. But don’t tell us what it is,...

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In the Dark of Night

Today I am linking up with The Lightning & the Lightning-Bug for the prompt, “In the Dark of Night.” ************************************************** I tiptoe in to check on you, five crumpled...

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The Death of a Teacher

the phone rings, the school principal calling. she tells me Izzy’s teacher has died. my insides crumple like wilted flowers i choke up and cry ugly tears, wiping snot on my shirt and all i can think is...

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Relief

a delicate strand of an afternoon– her threads are unraveling, hanging off. she’s thankful for the friend who’s a phone call away. they devour sandwiches, both tired, hungry, worn thin by this day, its...

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In My Next Life

in my next life i shall be a midwife, catching slippery babies in my arms each day. holding new life in my hands and watching the purplish faces change to red, the first breaths, the first cries....

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