The Old Pear Tree Campaign

Would it not be grand

to take a pencil in your hand

and spend all of your days

writing rhymes and scripting plays...?

It was the week of lambing, but no babies had arrived yet. I was anxious; elated; high on, yet sick of, the anticipation.

When the blossoms fully open,

the bees come to gather the precious pollen.

Mother Nature's hocus pocus

Yellow, white and purple crocus

The weather is cold and dreary and gray.

I'd like to go out, I'd like to go play.

Mom says it's too chilly to go out today.

The loveliest piece of music ever written,

or so it seems to me.

I slide the disc into our player and there it is,

so sublime and perfect it nearly breaks the heart.

If where you are is where you want to be;

If the things you’re seeing are what you want to see,

Such as life and growth and beauty — such as peace and harmony;

I woke very early.

It wasn't yet light.

Though, somehow outside

it seemed kind of bright.

Opening the door

I could see it was white!

Why,

Yes,

United State Marine Corps; Combat trained; Mos 0311; Rifleman; Tip of the spear; Follow me; Did what was asked of me; For God & country

“Read all about it.

Tomato Master 2020 Crop

Defies reality. Every fruit

Perfect in size and

Spherical dimension”

Lost generation

If I were a moon, any one of them,

I'd be distressed

At all this talk about waxing and waning.

Four lane highway empty; Mailbox empty; No junk mail; Feels like; The Last Picture Show

There once was a virus of doom

That forced me to stay in my room

Looking at all this nature

To see what God has made,

To walk through a green meadow

And sit under a tree of shade,

The birds singing in the trees

Saw a Robin today. Bright yellow flowers; Gonna make it; Have wood soaking rains; Wet spring; Green grass; Trees green; Running up Turkey Mountain.

Marching, we go forward; soap and sanitizer our weapons. With social distance we march; not shoulder to shoulder; but 6 feet apart. 

He was precise in all his measurements. The fence posts dug each exactly the distance; Between his five-year-old thumb and; Index finger

I am isolated within myself; But free in heart and mind; Jesus watches over us

My empty space ; Formerly mine alone, to rattle around in, to try to figure out new ways to pass time; To always think, “Now what do I have to prepare my meals? What is easy/available/tasty?” 

I have followed the experts’ commands,

Blocking access to all of my glands:

This invitation from Rappahannock's poets sums up the event at the Washington Schoolhouse on February 19 where Rapp at Home members gathered for port (or tea) and poetry readings.

Whose birthday do we celebrate

With appreciation to T.C. Pellegatta Jr., from his new book Lyric: Words on a Page, available locally and through Amazon.com in print and Kindle editions.

A Halloween poem, from Sperryville resident Sally Haynes:

Autumn is here at last; it will soon be Hallowe’en. Before that day has passed; strange creatures will be seen.

The following poem has been written by 8-year-old Naomi Block, a resident of London, England.

Written June 3, 2005 for my father, Moffett H. Brady, Sr., born in Clark Hollow in Rappahannock County in 1903, and passed from this life in 1975.

Heroes have their ways.

The stillness of the starlit night

A solitary hunter, of single intent,

Chilton G. Raiford of Amissville passed away on August 14, 2018 at the age of 95. Grace Raiford of Castleton, an eleventh grader at Rappahannock County High School and a statewide recognized playwright, penned the following homage to her grandfather while she sat with him just a few days bef…

So much a symbol,

Ruby Dwyer of Old Hollow celebrated her 90th birthday last Friday, January 19th. On Saturday, her three children — Kathy, Sam and Gary Dwyer — threw their mom a wonderful birthday party attended by dozens of her friends at Trinity Episcopal Church hall in Washington. A poem, written by Richa…

Coldest winter

Suspended on a silken thread

By Alessandra Gelmi

Deny Friday 13

I see you, hated stink bug,

Yes, to cure a terrible disease, to dispel a disaster,

I feel like a junkyard dolly.

Relentless, his jokifying

I drive these roads and I walk these streets