In these last days of August, I take a look back at a summer moment tracing the thread of beauty on a coastal road somewhere in New England...Morning MigrationIn the quiet tidal marsh, along a coastal road lined in Queen Anne’s Lace,a lone heron dancesstirring the sanctuary I dance too,my legs wobbly, my steps small.Golden … Continue reading
August 8, 2014 by annablakegodbout I am often asked why I have chosen to write poems instead of novels, short stories and essays in my writer’s life. My answer is not a complicated one:Because I want to. Because it lets me be authentic. Because we need poetry. Besides, supplies are basic and simple…a … Continue reading Why I Write Poetry
August brings forth the winding down of summer days and nights. Soon Nature's landscape will begin slow quiet changes often without notice. Before the calendar rolls in September, I give you a poem of quiet summer reflection. A moment in time when evening settles in and memories are held dear..... Midnight slips out of … Continue reading Giving the Beach Back to the Tourists
It’s time to become acquainted with a new season and embrace a limitless horizon, vast and mysterious. No longer desiring to be held back, a long silence stirs awake. My life map unfolds; a new journey begins… revealing new dreams with the same heart.
Before February gets by us, I want to share this poem about a moment in time filled with an enduring memory. As the snows falls and the wind blusters by, a woman with her warm comforts of tea and a charming music box from Germany fills her afternoon... Each February I remember the fragile note,kept … Continue reading I Stop the Questioning
Late Afternoon in Early Winter The wood stove fire burns slowly, warmth seeps into ridges of a red fleece blanket that adorns my shivering shoulders. Outside the snow softly falls, swirls of silver and white cover autumn into bare branched silence. North winds howl, white tailed deer scrape snow on their tongues on a late … Continue reading
Fooling with words, I seek out a dream- how to make a life as a poet. Hot coffee, and cold truth, a woman’s notebook encounters the writing circle, on a Thursday in autumn at the bookstore. Later, a walk on the beach, a gift emerges. Naming the winds, I begin writing towards home while I … Continue reading Another Book Spine Poem