Poetry Friday--snowThis month I’ve been participating in Laura Shovan’s 8th Annual February Daily Poem challenge. This year ‘s theme is “Water”, and each day someone posts a related prompt. We share our fledgling poetic responses on a Facebook page, with the emphasis on idea generation and drafting, not polishing.

Earlier this month Kara Laughlin shared a video and pictures of slurpee waves. Whoa! How did I ever miss these? When temperatures get so cold that ice crystals start forming in the ocean, you have slurpee waves. They’re rare, rather unworldly-looking and utterly fascinating.


Photo credit to Jonathan Nimerfroh

Image result for slurpee waves

New York Times photo

Looking at the pictures, and thinking of a recent tragedy in the life of a friend, sparked this poem.


The very ocean
has transformed—
free flowing-waves
congealed to slushy surf.
My pulse rolls slowly
with this strange tide.
How do such things
come to pass?
I would have said
it was impossible.
Yet, here I stand
at the shore.
Without you.

Molly Hogan ©2020

This week’s Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted by Cheriee at her blog Library Matters. She’s sharing a fascinating interview with Canadian poet, Avis Harley.  Be sure to stop by and check it out. You’ll absolutely come away richer for the experience.

Mother’s Day Gift


Mother’s Day Gift

I never told you about
the beads I found in her dresser
after she died
how I remember opening the drawers
one by one
slowly, quietly
so no one would hear me
how I buried my hands in her things
searching for nothing
for everything
and how in the top right drawer
I found them

I never told you how
my fingers brushed
the salt-coarse sides 
those beads I vaguely remembered making
how they were square
well, square-ish really
slightly concave on each side from
the curve of my fingertips pressing
how they were strung
on a dark leather cord threaded
through their rough-punctured holes
and how I’d painted them brightly
with her favorite colors
oranges, yellows and greens

I never told you how
I stood still and
stared at them in surprise
those salt dough beads resurrected
from the mists of my past
a long ago gift
from me to her
how I wondered then
why she’d kept them
Though I understand now

I never told you that
when I finally lifted them to me
up and out of the dresser drawer
they crumbled into bits and pieces
and left me holding
an awkwardly knotted
empty black cord

©2018 M. Hogan

This week’s Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted by the amazing Jama Rattigan at her blog, Jama’s Alphabet Soup. She always creates a sensory feast and this week she’s focusing on bluebirds with some wonderful poetry and gorgeous artwork as well. Make sure to stop by and dip into the blue and perhaps visit some other sites as well!