December 0

Blog Archive

Thu, 24.09.2009

WHEN MAHALIA SINGS by Quandra Prettyman.

We used to gather in the high window of the holiness church and, tip-toe, look in and laugh at the dresses, too small on the ladies, and how wretched they all looked-an old garage for a church, for pews, old wooden chairs.
It seemed a lame excuse for a church.

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New Poem Each Day

Poetry Corner

In the kitchen as the toast browns I put on my 3rd grade cateye glasses pearly blue with rhinestone tips I found with the baby books. Music’s echoing into the room from... AT MY FATHERS HOUSE by Nancy Travis
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