Palmetto Poem

Johnson

PALMETTO POEM: Charleston childhood montage

By Jacqueline Johnson

I.

Your garden is as wild as one
of Bearden’s conjure women’s.
Lush with collards, roses, lilies,
hydrangea, figs and japonica.
One summer found me walking
concrete, dusty path to your front steps.

PALMETTO POEM:  Three by Kimberly Simms

PALMETTO POEM: Three by Kimberly Simms

Brother’s Mess of Crosses

Converted at 16, when the dummy train
derailed to tip across his pregnant wife.
A holy roller, a Carolina spinner,
a brush arbor caller, an off-key gospel singer.

He took scarlet paint to moonshine jars, boulders,
pine trees, fences, and the neighbor’s pig.
His front plot, he planted a mess of crosses
and built his own monolith with river rocks.

He didn’t pay no mind to section leaders,
howled his only boss was the man in heaven.
He sent 10,000 message bottles down the Reedy
River, dreamed of taking Jesus to Mars and Jupiter.

by · 08/15/2016 · Comments are Disabled · Features, Palmetto Poem
PALMETTO POEM: Autumn Sunday

PALMETTO POEM: Autumn Sunday

A poem by Pushcart nominee Katherine Williams of Charleston and Los Angeles. She has authored three chap books and given readings on both coasts. She has poems in Measure, Diagram, Spillway, Poemeleon, Rappahannock Review, and various anthologies. A community arts activist and surfer, she works in biomedical research and lives on James Island with her husband, poet Richard Garcia.

by · 07/04/2016 · Comments are Disabled · Features, Palmetto Poem
FOCUS:  Music of doves ascending

FOCUS: Music of doves ascending

A poem by Marjory Wentworth, poet laureate of South Carolina:

Yellow crime tape tied to the rod iron fence
weaves through bouquets of flowers
and wreaths made of white ribbons,
like rivers of bright pain flowing through the hours.

Weaving through bouquets of flowers,
lines of strangers bearing offerings
like rivers of bright pain flowing through the hours.
One week later; the funeral bells ring;

lines of strangers still bring offerings.
Nine doves tossed toward the sun.
One week later; the funeral bells ring,
while churches in small towns are burning.

Nine doves tossed toward the sun.
Because there are no words to sing,
while churches in small towns are burning,
a blur of white wings, ascends like music.

by · 06/06/2016 · Comments are Disabled · Focus, Good news, Palmetto Poem
POEMS: Three from nationally-known poet Richard Garcia

POEMS: Three from nationally-known poet Richard Garcia

Enjoy three short poems by award-winning poet Richard Garcia, who won the 2016 Press 53 award for Porridge. He is the author of six books or poetry, recently The Other Odyssey, from Dream Horse Press, and The Chair, from BOA, both published in 2014. His poems have appeared in many journals, including The Georgia Review and Spillway, and in anthologies such as The Pushcart Prize and Best American Poetry. He lives in Charleston, S.C., with his wife Katherine and their dog Max. He is on the staff of the Antioch Low Residency MFA in Los Angeles.

by · 05/01/2016 · Comments are Disabled · Features, Palmetto Poem
PALMETTO POEM:  Charcoal

PALMETTO POEM: Charcoal

Palmetto Poem by Vera Gómez

Charcoal can be found almost anywhere
there has been fire. Among the ash,
dust to dust, among the embers set aglow.
Almost anywhere: in the streak
of teared-lace mascara, in the remnant
of a striked match, in the man cremated.

by · 04/04/2016 · Comments are Disabled · Features, Palmetto Poem
PALMETTO POEM: Down South

PALMETTO POEM: Down South

By Len Lawson
Five-and-dime. Antique store. Cash and
Carry. Drug store. Barber shop. Shoe shop.
Record store. Bridal boutique. Dive bar.

by · 03/07/2016 · Comments are Disabled · Features, Palmetto Poem
Wentworth, left, and Amaker read poem at inauguration.

PALMETTO POEM: “Reimagining History”

Though Charleston is a shrine to the past,
where every alleyway and weather-worn road
tells the story of a city resurrected;
time is never standing still.
Running beneath the surface
are fault lines of our own making,
reshaping memory brick by brick.

by · 02/01/2016 · Comments are Disabled · Features, Palmetto Poem
PALMETTO POEM: I heard irises blooming

PALMETTO POEM: I heard irises blooming

Al Black: By Al Black

Yesterday, in her voice
I heard a little girl who
walked rows of beans
picking worms from the vine
to plop in a tobacco can

by · 01/04/2016 · Comments are Disabled · Features, Palmetto Poem
Wentworth

PALMETTO POEM: The Christmas Apron

By Marjory Wentworth, contributing editor

Unfolding my grandmother’s apron, tucked
deep in a box of Christmas decorations,
I rub my hands across the wrinkled
cream colored cloth as thin as gauze
and the bright red and blue boxes circling
the hem and see her standing at the stove
wearing her Christmas apron, stirring pots
on every burner, a turkey already roasting
in the oven, plates of gingerbread men
cooling on the counter.

by · 12/07/2015 · Comments are Disabled · Features, Palmetto Poem