Author Archives: Okelle

About Okelle

I like poetry, long walks on the beach, and net neutrality. Tending the Garden of Words since 1998.

The Nightingale

They pipe the music outdoors because– I don’t know why, because money, because we can’t stand the sound of our own heartbeats, or the peepers in the woods on a spring night still so chill the shoppers run from store … Continue reading

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Beltane 2013 – union and loneliness

Beltane fell on a Wednesday this year. It’s my favorite holiday, but even though it is a holiday of union, this year it leaves me feeling rather lonely. On Sunday I’d intended to rise early and make the trip across the river … Continue reading

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Spring and All, in the Aftermath

When I was 13 and knew everything, when I was jaundiced as only the very young can be jaundiced, I loved T.S. Eliot’s The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. I loved its ennui. I loved the flowing, imaginative, and … Continue reading

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The day after the Boston marathon bombing

Sudden violence (is there any other kind?) throws the world into sharp relief. Horror that doesn’t speak but roars in the head like the ocean. Magnolias blooming under the crescent moon. It gives things the proper perspective, too. Last night, … Continue reading

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marathon monday, boston 2013

marathon monday april air crisp as tulips blood on the pavement

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A few notes about April, National Poetry Month, and related or tangential topics

A few notes about April, National Poetry Month, and related or tangential topics: April is the cruelest month because it is neither one thing nor another. Especially in Boston, it is neither the callused braw of midwinter, nor the soft … Continue reading

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Snow

softens the edges of things shows us which way is up settles the earth in her slumber makes us stop and watch because if we hurry through we slip or worse never notice its miracle in single flake or aggregate … Continue reading

Posted in poetry, wheel of the year

Jamaica Pond after sunset

You long for a dark open field– dark skies against the darker land– but you will settle for this, the old pond who spreads always, calm and shining inside its ring of traffic and asphalt Its ribbon of trees bare … Continue reading

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April on its way

the sun the snow the open window

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Icicle

Icicle hangs from the tip of a broken tree joint New growth the red of old blood Snow falls in whispers from the white sky Comma-clatter-rasp of a woodpecker                      and two ravens (first draft: Jan 8, 2011)

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