Anna Blake Godbout
Notes from the Ridge
Tag: women
My Nostalgic Find
A most wonderful and nostalgic find in my recipe box a few afternoons ago; I decided to post it today and you will see why. 62 years ago today in 1957, my grandmother-whom we always called Nana-wrote down a recipe for Easy Chocolate Frosting…
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A Quilt Whispers
This poem is based upon a true event. Shortly after my grandfather passed away in August 1974, I found a battered worn down quilt in the corner of my grandparents’ living room. I had not seen it before in all my childhood years visiting…
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In Honor Of National Poetry Month: Jane Kenyon’s Advice
“Be a good steward of your gifts. Protect your time. Feed your inner life. Avoid too much noise. Read good books, have good sentences in your ears. Be by yourself as often as you can. Walk. Take the phone off the hook. Work regular…
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I am greeting September with a quiet poem for my readers. The bustle of summer is now past. Here in Colorado our mornings begin with chilled autumn like temperatures. Spots of orange are appearing on the scrub oak and the aspens are tinged with…
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Why I Write Poetry
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…
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Journey On
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….
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I Stop the Questioning
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…
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A Quilt Whispers Autumn sunshine dapples the floorboards of an old clapboard home once filled with family. Heaped in a darkened corner, discarded and tattered with age, my grandmother’s quilt awaits a second beginning. Made of her life and love, softened from generations of…
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Cold Lonesome Rain
Clouds hover above the misty sandstone bluff; the late April drizzle shivers cold lonesome rain outside my paned window. I curl my arms around me holding the warm inside as foggy mists encase our weathered beaten red barn. Remnants of winter patched in springtime…
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The Wedding Ring Quilt
The Wedding Ring Quilt This morning, the first snow of spring fell like a curtain of lace across the mountains spilling leftovers of winter down into the stunted pine brushed valley. The touch of your smile held the warmth of weathered hands; eyes of…
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