"dazzle gradually"

"Dazzle Gradually" 2017 poems, paintings, new art & photography--a diary, a discipline, a delight. Read over my shoulder as I post my unedited poetry ---you can see it in the raw or get my first book and see how the work evolves with new books rolling out next year.


Polly Alice

Thursday, April 30, 2015

Published today

I have a poem published today. I'm so excited...

Here is the link to my newly published poem at Bethlehem Writers Roundtable May/ June issue. "When We had Little" is one of the poems I wrote in 2010 here on my first year of my poem-a-day blog. The idea for a daily blog was inspired by the film Julie & Julia. The poem was inspired by those post college years (or decades) when I learned how to cook from my favorite cookbook, "Extending the Table" by those lovely folks at MCC who know how to travel with purpose, and how to bring those great tastes home. 

I will post here below an excerpt of the revised and now published poem made even better by news today that another poem I sent was accepted by another publication. 

"This work was originally published in the Bethlehem Writers Roundtable, the magazine of the Bethlehem Writers Group, LLC."


sustenance from nothing
blossoms to bread
with only a bowl
I can accomplish anything.

Click here to read the whole poem.


Monday, April 27, 2015

169

The day the price of gas ran
a dollar sixty-nine, I took
a deep breath. Every muscle
down my spine relaxed
my anxious thoughts stopped
spinning, my forehead
smoothed into a golden
field along the highway
my smile, the road
paved to the place
where I felt rooted
like the old lilac
in the grey blush
of spring.
My arms the fields
of wheat, my knees
tips of early corn,
my hair the breeze,
my teeth country
music, my eyes
the Missouri sky,
my feet the rhythm
along the highway
going home, home
going north on
highway
169.

Sunday, April 19, 2015

Remember This

Remember this.
This day walking
this steep slope
this bosom of lawn
where GG
climbed as a girl,
holding her sister's
hand. Blanche, their
mother determined
to have a picnic
after taking the
train. Union Station,
the same as it is now,
only full of...
trains. Kansas City
emptied out,
it's people
lost to a war,
influenza,
death by
words through
metal.
Now an obelisk
rises above
an unlit pond
glints as oil
in a pool like
tears from
the cherubim
who hide
their faces
melting
peace into
stone, for they
too know
wars come
and go but
memories
last forever.
Remember
this.

Saturday, April 4, 2015

Easter Time

It's time for Easter.
Every year, we act
out the parts again
to remember what was
heavy enough to make
time run backwards
and death lose his grip.
T.S. Eliot says Time,
is an occupation for the 
saint-

I know it's acted out
by the lowly. On Maunday
Thursday the workers
at the car wash kneel
like Jesus with a deciple
then dry with white towels
to wash away the grime
from where I've been.

I felt baptized, like the 32
people who were baptized on
Palm Sunday, and the life
guard dunked in too-- in the
the name of the Father, Son,
and Holy Spirit-- which made
thirty-three.

Three-three years Jesus stayed
here. I've seen the places
he walked. The rocks
still look ready to cry out for
Eliot's half guessed Incarnation.

Last Sunday, children waved
palm branches. Early pilgrims,
they shouted they'd love Jesus forever,
a boy asked why his father never
came back from war, if Jesus could.

Tomorrow I will get up and take my
two remaining children to church.
We will wear colors as bright as
the Eggs we will hide in the park
behind our back gate.

The dog will bark, the bridge over
Shoal creek will solemnly preside,
and we will laugh in the damp
new grass, knowing Jesus
is still alive, and promises
only sunny days in eternity--

knowing one day we will
return to our fathers
if they cannot come to us

knowing the lamb means
we were spared, we are
clean, all is reversed,
and time will have no
hold on us anymore.