Author Archives: Mary Louise Cox

Poetic-License

Poetic License 6-6-2014

poetic“Ah but I was so much older then;

I’m younger than that now.” -Bob Dylan

 

A-HA

By Fred Rosenberg, guest poet

 

A survey appearing on e-mail

desired the date of my birth;

with honesty not characteristic,

I wrote out the answer with mirth.

 

To continue the survey I waited,

but a blockage appeared on the screen;

“Your answer conflicts with our records,”

so I’ll change when I came on the scene.

 

Mary Louise Cox, Poet Laureate of the town and village of Mamaroneck

Poetic-License

Poetic License

The poet’s job is to find a name for everything.

-Jane Kenyon

poetic

Laments

From the chapbook, “Shards,” by Mary Louise Cox

 

Sometimes in the morning

octaves of a flute

path my gray-green woods

moontoning

 

Buried sounds chase through me

locking mourning

into dream scales

of silver remembered

laments.

 

“In India the sound of Krishna’s flute is the magical cause of the birth of the world.”

 

Mary Louise Cox, poet laureate of the Town and Village of Mamaroneck

Poetic-License

Poetic License 5-9-2014

“Poetry is aimless, not purposeful. The poem is dancing with itself.”— Billy Collins

poetic

“Observance”

 

At that time

I saw further

into the roseate glow

at the edges of late hour clouds,

I was the watcher,

alert to the changing position

of fireflies, the changing heart.

I tasted stone mint—

heard minstrels sing and recite,

could dance a fine fan-dan-go.

Before time fell backward

fate emptied my arms.

I was free to hope, imagine, laugh.

In that brief time

I could see further.

 

Mary Louise Cox,

Poet Laureate of the Town and Village of Mamaroneck

Poetic-License

Poetic License 4-18-14

Unclutter your writing time. Simply write down what you hear.

poetic

“The Spider” 

The Fate Weaver

moves across blackened letters

on a plaque

feeling for a place to spin.

Traveling the word love,

it drops a filmy dragline,

spins a pattern out of itself

so exquisite that once again

the gods are angry.

 

Mary Louise Cox, Poet Laureate of the Town and Village of Mamaroneck

Poetic-License

Poetic License 4-4-14

Children are symbolic of the beginning and of abundant possibilities.

 

To a former foster childpoetic

Solange De Santis,
Chairman of the Mamaroneck Arts Council

Tell me,

How does a spirit rise

From a place so fragmented

A young heart so bruised?

 

If a million hurricanes

Flood the Rockaways

From sea to bay,

Would Neptune appear

To gather the children from all the homes

And float them to safety

On a boat of shells?

 

Or could new life arise

From the mud and silt

In a world

Corrupt with humanity?

 

Pause on the shore

And listen, as the sirens of the deep

Weave a rope line of music

Around a community

Of like-minded souls.

 

Mary Louise Cox, poet laureate of the Town and Village of Mamaroneck

Poetic-License

Poetic License 3-14-2014

poeticPoems can awaken the sleeping imagination.

Wait Watcher

 

Over time, what have you waited for?

Sunshine or rain?

A train, a plane?

The evening news?

A cat to come home?

Meaning?

Love?

A vacation?

A blue moon?

Spring flowers, autumn leaves?

A birthday celebration?

An anniversary?

A new year?

The clock to strike?

Tomorrow?

 

Mary Louise Cox, Poet Laureate of the Town and Village of Mamaroneck.

 
Poetic-License

Poetic License 2-21-14

Pretendingpoetic

After all these years

I still awaken

before

dawn

pretending

it’s my turn on watch

as the world spins into light.

Until the sky

brightens

I pretend it’s up to me

to see that the world

is kept safe.

I have wished

all these years that pretending

had more power!

Poetic-License

Poetic License 1-31-2014

Picnic in the Snowpoetic

 

The tree leans against winter

like the urge of change

against a mind

bare of questions.

 

Beneath this tree

we

two

brush snow from a rock.

 

We make a table there.

We celebrate

under branches

of a winter dying tree.

 

Mary Louise Cox, poet laureate of the Town and Village of Mamaroneck

 
Poetic-License

Poetic License 1-17-14

poeticFound
Among my notes, this!
There are hobgoblins in my soul.
When they get dancing,
singing, clapping,
laughing,
beating drums—
I stop and listen!
Who wrote these words?
I hope I did!

Mary Louise Cox, poet laureate of the Town and Village of Mamaroneck

 
Poetic-License

Poetic License: Special Edition

poeticThe following poems were sent to the Mamaroneck Review by a reader in the belief their publication would make the author’s holiday season bright. They are presented in that spirit.

Silver Song and White Clouds

By Jon Billet

A tune falls down from the sky into my golden tea cup.

I drink this heavenly prayer.

It sings a psalm that whisper in my ear.

I listen to the divine song all night long.

I can hear it while I sleep in dream.

The rest of the world can hear it too.

The sun filters a ray that wakens us to a new day.

It lives a life of love.

In cumulus clouds scattered about in lazy skies above.

 

Suite T’s

By Jon Billet and Molly Dudette

Starlit skies under mountainous highs in the Australian outback.

I grabbed a constellation of stars.

Watch the glass shine in the sun.

The kangaroos hop and the koalas dance to a new beat.

Shuffle tired feet in one hundred sixteen-degree desert heat.

Drive your car as far as The Oasis Bar.

The crossing in the desert is a melting black tar.

A helium balloon circles the red moon in the desert’s hot noon.

I reach for the moon and pull it into my room.

Meteor showers stream to cover my face in my final resting place.