Category Archives: my poems

5 April 2021 in the morning the snow is velvety white and ribbedwe skiers call it corduroy I like to weave in and out of italways looking to lay first tracks we marvel at our luckwhat a huge mountain to … Continue reading

Posted on by Gina Marie Thompson | Leave a comment

on the day of our travels4 April 2021 I left my notebook where I wrote a poemon the dining room tablein a rush to get out the doormake good timeget on the road We actually did itleft the house while … Continue reading

Posted on by Gina Marie Thompson | Leave a comment
Posted on by Gina Marie Thompson | Leave a comment

The wind2 April 2021 I couldn’t feel the wind in the forest under the canopy of budding treesparked at the campsite with the picnic table I did feel the cold sting of winter’s lingering breathefighting against the thawing earththrowing snow … Continue reading

Posted on by Gina Marie Thompson | Leave a comment

A poem for you1 April 2021 I no longer yearn for poems written about me, for me. The torment that used to come with such… pleasures? The dissecting, the wondering, the tug at the heart. What does it mean? There … Continue reading

Posted on by Gina Marie Thompson | Leave a comment

[POEM] When I am among the trees, by Mary Oliver When I am among the trees,especially the willows and the honey locust,equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,they give off such hints of gladness.I would almost say that they … Continue reading

Posted on by Gina Marie Thompson | Leave a comment

Little anxieties28 March 2021 It’s now warm enough in the mornings well, some mornings to sit on the porch of this tiny house overlooking the tiny mountains above the tiny town this morning began with hot coffee – cream and … Continue reading

Posted on by Gina Marie Thompson | Leave a comment

Ten acre pondMarch 26, 2021 I drive here knowing there will be sounds I need to hear today. A dozen different frog sounds from the vernal ponds, collecting around thick wheat grass. The bigger pond is mostly silent, except for … Continue reading

Posted on by Gina Marie Thompson | Leave a comment

morning walk25 March 2021 the smell of damp ash and smokethe image of ruins and rebirth the samesounds of highway and birds and electrical hummingbut not footsteps in front or behind

Posted on by Gina Marie Thompson | Leave a comment

You can’t use gas to light an electric soul

Posted on by Gina Marie Thompson | Leave a comment