Some Lines Witten while Sitting in the Atrium at Dartmouth (NH) Medical Center By Estelle Cade

I bought a hat the other day.
It was so cute, it fit so well;
It’s definitely you,
my friends all say. 

I bought some shoes the other day;
bright red, and so in style that
just to look at them
makes me smile.

Dressed up now,
from toes to head –
look at what’s next,
Old Age said.
There is a magic cloak for you
It comes in many colors.
Some will wear it gracefully –
(and then there are the others..) Continue reading


nature of resilience: Sculpture Magazine 2014            by alice thomas



centuries of
catapulted art:
hemp and wood
brass and textile

were transformed
beyond burning
to a breathing
combustible archeology

from nature’s ancient bounty
burnt   salted   carved
re-established as
a superior bloom

re-seen      renewed
art-    all over again


Sounds of My Life  by Janet Keyes

Early there were murmurs of adults
reading stories to each other-
near the warm kitchen stove,
grandparents, father, mother.

In summer came the chirps of cricket song,
and wind in pines made whistling sound.
Greenfield added rumbling trains
as raucous city noises would abound.

In teen years I heard music of my peers
the stuff my mother could not love-
and I came to know choral hymns
telling us of God above.

In nursing I heard anguished moans of pain,
from terminal patients unrelieved.
Their doctors’ fear of making addicts
was not to be believed.

In motherhood I cherished tiny sounds
of newborn infants’ little cries,
and when I held and nursed them,
there were gentle happy sighs.

In all the years my kids were growing up,
their noise of living filled my every day,
laughing, joking, squabbling, yelling-
my children went on their way.

 Inevitably, declining times have come,
and lesser sounds are falling on my ears.
Cicadas, crickets, hoots, and howls
serenade me through the years.


WE ARE A TOWN by Alice Thomas

I know a man a woman who eats whatever is placed on the plate

Chinese Soul Indian Thai New Food and it’s all from ‘home’

prays the Shema and Our Father all around town

sees all sides of the coin of this realm

whose family comes from Portugal Puerto Rico Moldova Russia Poland and points north

with tongues moving in all directions to the right the left and center

who lives in dwellings of apartment jail farm home congregate rehabilitation shelter motel

makes mis-takes but always does their best … whatever that is

we are all of them Greenfield of Franklin County

No Nuthin’ by Estelle Cade

No secret stairways,
No hidden rooms,
No spectral visitors,
No magic brooms.

No twisting passageways,
No buried treasure.
Watch for low tide lines,
Be sure to measure.

No mossy cave marks,
No bony guests,
Only seaweed, pebbles, shells,
No echo of a lost ship’s bell.

No pirate ship
No pieces of eight
No yo ho ho,
No bottles of rum.

No Treasure Island,
No Captain Hook.
Oh go away, Nancy Drew,
You’re in a different book!


Child of the Wind by Mildred Grant

“Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I!”

Two lines from a song we sang in grade school. I wonder whether my mood is called to answer that of the velocity of the wind or does the wind match my thoughts and feelings?

We were on summer vacation and I was feeling restless. Though there were occasional patches of blue sky, the clouds in the west looked increasingly ominous. As the wind began to rise, so did my exhilarating need to out race the buffeting gusts of air, so I ran straight into the now-howling turbulence. Sensations of fear to joy took over. As the branches of apple, pear, and maple trees were writhing in wild abandon, I joined them in their dance. Being young and of average size for my age, about six or seven, it wasn’t long before I was securely wind-pinned, lying against a stone wall. Out of breath, I watched as the fury slowly subsided to a gentle summer breeze. The sun reappeared. No longer restless, the lingering sense of excited fear and joy in the whole experience soon settled back to the calmer feelings of my ordinary way of life.

The Shape of Things to Come by Lettice Randall

 I don’t really care the shape I’m in

I don’t really care that my hair is thin

I’ve got wrinkles on my face. Is that a crime?

It just means I’ve been here for a long, long time.

I could get a face lift and have a boob job done

But I don’t think that sounds like a lot of fun!

And if I had that face lift, I think all you’d see

Is the only one I’m fooling is most likely me!

I am a Poem by Estelle Cade

I am a reader, a writer,
A mother, a grandmother
I wonder sometimes if any of it matters.
I hear the chuckle of a kookaburra
I see the surf of the Southern Ocean
I want to hug my daughter
I am a poem.

I pretend I am going on a journey
I feel excited at the thought of it
I touch my daughter’s hair
I worry all my travels will remain a dream
I cry at the thought of all the dead soldiers
I am a poem.

I understand the world is round
I say the world keeps getting smaller
I dream of a peaceful world
I try to continue to grow
I hope to stay all ways healthy
I am a poem.

In the Words of Odd Thomas by Janet Keyes

This poem consists mostly of the words of Odd Thomas, a beloved fictional character created by best-selling author, Dean Koontz. The poem is published here with written permission from Dean Koontz, whose stories delight millions with fantastic plots, white-knuckle suspense, skillfully drawn characters, and descriptive passages which could stand alone as lyrical poetry.  His personal communication to Ms. Keyes also shows him to have a fabulous sense of humor.  Thanks to him for his permission.

Like others I was born for joy to know.
My life has goals and mystery each day,
And I learn by going where I have to go.

I travel some with my friendly ghost dog Bo.
For helping others Bo leads me through the fray,
And like others I was born for joy to know.

I search for meaning in life of trial and woe.
For failing, my living is the price I pay,
And I learn by going where I have to go.

I remember Stormy, my girl of golden glow,
The love of my life, who took my breath away.
Like others I was born for joy to know.

Now life is hard, but it was not always so,
And forward is the only way back, I say.
I learn by going where I have to go.

I see the ghosts of others trapped below,
And their silent siren song I will obey.
Like others I was born for joy to know,
And I learn by going where I have to go.

THE BLIZZARD OF 2013 by Lettice Randall

The snow had just begun to fall
This is New England after all
We Northerners are a sturdy lot
Afraid of snow storms we are not.
At least that’s what I used to feel
But media hype has become unreal
Stay off the roads we’re being told
We Yankees used to be so bold.
What happened to our braver days
Now we’re told to change our ways.
A little snow shouldn’t bother us.
We need to know, why all the fuss?
So here I sit and contemplate
Should I go out or should I wait.
Tomorrow is another day.
So I’ll stay in. What can I say?