Entries by lsteinglass

Window Garden

    [soundcloud url=”https://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/225404288?secret_token=s-V3Bv1″ params=”auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true” width=”100%” height=”100″ iframe=”true” /]   I am thrilled to have this poem appear in the book Dear Tomato: An International Crop of Food and Agriculture Poems, edited by Carol-Ann Hoyte. I love the collection. It includes a wonderful variety of poems and subjects and writers, and it’s a perfect size to […]

A Poem for Your Pocket

                      A Poem for Your Pocket Here’s a poem for your pocket. Or it might be for your shoe. You could tuck it in a mitten. Any secret place will do. You could hide it in your hat or stuff it up your sleeve. You […]

The Globe

                            The Globe I spin the globe with my fingertips, reading wrinkled mountain ranges like a person reading braille. I find the spot that means home and try to imagine it on a real-sized planet swooping through endless darkness, part of a […]

Folder

                  Folder, paper holder, never let a letter slip from place in your crisp cardboard embrace.   Yes, I wrote a cinquain about a folder. © Elizabeth Steinglass, all rights reserved, 2015

Dear Desk

                      Dear Desk What do you do on Sundays? Do you miss me? Do you miss the busy clatter of our class? Do you wish I was there scooting in, scooting out, my knees tickling you under your chin? Or do you spend your Sundays […]

A Sticky Note of Apology

                        A Sticky Note of Apology Forgive me for I have failed. You wrote one word across my face and stuck me to the door where you couldn’t help but see me. I stayed there focused on my goal until the wind blew through […]

Instructions for a Favorite Pen

                      Instructions for a Favorite Pen Follow my lead— first straight, then hook, loop, and roll, glide across the page like a skater with sharp blades on fresh ice. Leave your mark on my paper, not my pocket. Remember, I need you. Don’t run away […]