This is sbpoet's Typepad Profile.
Join Typepad and start following sbpoet's activity
sbpoet
The Spangly Web
Introvert. Poet. Blogger. Snapshotter. Etsy Shop-Keeper.
Interests: politics, literature, poetry, goddess-daughter; pseudo-niece; speculative fiction, science, faith & reason, philosophy, Gaia, art, architecture, the nature of good & evil, interior design, objects, human nature, feminism, gender, animal nature, illness, chronic fatigue syndrome (CFIDS), fibromyalgia, ME/CFS/PVFS (Myalgic Encephalopathy/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome/Post Viral Fatigue Syndrome), liminality, technology, the feminine divine, animal intelligence, morality, mortality, ethics, physics, metaphysics, string theory, aging, atheism, the nature of consciousness, creativity, cats, dogs, introversion, psychology, photography, fundamentalism, gardening, goldfish, haiku, happiness, sexuality, identity, intimacy, creativity, language, logic, memory, the muse, nature|nurture, narcissism, altruism, neuroscience, quantum theory, spirituality, web design, writing
Recent Activity
a sadness of dreaming
another gray morning I wake from a dream of the end of the world it comes without warning the alarm a deafening buzz as all the bees in the world die in a hum at the end of it all honey gone sour and seeping from empty hives like sap from dying trees all sweetness lost sleet tapping the windows a warning a sigh an exhalation of hope as I wake in a wonder of fear from a dream at the end of the world a pattern of light on the wall ~sharon brogan may 02019 Continue reading
Posted Jan 28, 2025 at Watermark
Comment
0
Bell
once I imagined the bell all the rest came easily the young man in the burgundy coat lilies tolling their scent in the garden pale moon over narrow streets, it all dreamt itself into tall dark trees shivering with sparrows and wind the wind in the shutters the nervous courtyard something sacred at the altar the pale child in her ghost dress the book with its gossamer gilded pages its thin black-pebbled cover this docile child, butterfly wings the old man bent into his cane shuffling, shuffling, the pale moon it all came quite easily, then the moon walked into... Continue reading
Posted Jan 21, 2025 at Watermark
Comment
0
Homesafe
I want to tell you how spring feels in Alaska, next to the sea, with aspen & cedar with eagles & gulls. I want to tell you how spring feels here, beside the river, with spruce & pine, with robins & crows. I want to tell you how this sky stretches between mountains, how it blues. Life teaches grief here. May snow takes the lilacs. I want you to know how my body cries. I want to tell you how your touch lifts me out of myself. I want to tell you how words catch in my throat how I... Continue reading
Posted Jan 19, 2025 at Watermark
Comment
0
snapshot poem 13 january 2021
sleep in grief wake in grief grief at the doorstep ~sb january 2021 Continue reading
Posted Jan 18, 2025 at Watermark
Comment
0
questions
How does the writer's brain work? It is a bewilderment to me, why it must be this particular word, or that particular image. How is it that now, in this time of several national and global crises, I emerge from sleep holding to this juxtaposition: i wake my face is wet the blue heron stands one foot on a slate roof ~sb January 2021 Continue reading
Posted Jan 17, 2025 at Watermark
Comment
1
Taking It Apart
First they took the tonsils. Then the appendix & that extra tooth. Then they straightened my eyes & blinded me with light. Next an ovary, then the other & the uterus & the cervix. Finally the gallbladder. Then they rebuilt the knee. No knives have been at me for years, but if they could take this fatigue, I’d let them. My heart has been taken & taken apart many times. Stitched back together by inexpert hands. Sometimes the threads unravel. ~ sb Continue reading
Posted Jan 16, 2025 at Watermark
Comment
0
you must depend upon
the solid ground though it’s been known to shudder to open without warning into great rifts to offer sudden sinkholes & eruptions of fire daydreams, nightdreams, the tenuous braid of imagination history as written between the stars the upside-down lies your eyes tell you, day after day the sky, its blue breathable air though it’s been known to thicken with smoke with the exhalations of furnaces and exhausts with too much rain for the cracked ground to swallow the smell of coffee in the morning, the taste of cinnamon the silence behind, beneath the crackle & spit, the roar of... Continue reading
Posted Jan 15, 2025 at Watermark
Comment
0
THE ARMY OF GOD
A hard morning, after a bad night. Too soon after waking, I read an article from the Atlantic: THE ARMY OF GOD COMES OUT OF THE SHADOWS These christians are apparently Old Testament christians. Where is my grandmother’s Jesus? He is not mentioned. It seems that his kind, gentle, socialist, social-justice message is not welcome. Forget turn-the-other-cheek. Forget love your neighbor as yourself. Forget welcome the stranger who may be an angel. THIS IS WAR. And I am the enemy. I and those I love; those who, Christian, or not, absorbed and accepted the messages of my grandmother’s Jesus in... Continue reading
Posted Jan 10, 2025 at Watermark
Comment
0
metaphor
every day thousands of humans and other creatures die by bomb, bayonet, starvation every day women are raped and mutilated children beaten and abandoned every day humans push buttons pull triggers sign papers that result in the deaths of uncounted hundreds of thousands every day we humans close our eyes and turn away this is not metaphor every day my heart breaks this is metaphor ~sb 08/12/25 Continue reading
Posted Jan 8, 2025 at Watermark
Comment
0
there is no good news
this room this bright quilt winter waits on the other side of these dark windows elsewhere cities in dust and rubble everywhere cities on fire all this has nothing to do with me the naked child running through fire has nothing to do with me these buildings become dust have nothing to do with me I sit on this bright quilt blue and white and red patterns of flowers and thread I drink from my modern porcelain blue and white cup a pale version of Italian cappuccino what is true? who is to blame? I open the bedroom window winter... Continue reading
Posted Nov 10, 2023 at Watermark
Comment
0
The Bedroom
It’s a large room, as bedrooms go. It has two double windows. The shutters are closed. The bed is metal, painted blue. It’s a narrow bed, neatly made. An old radio stands on the bedside table. The only sounds this room hears are from that radio. The floor is golden oak, showing its age. The walls, too, are expressive, with cracks in the plaster on every side. The ceiling boasts a schoolhouse light and fan, turning slowly this autumn day. The lamp on the bedside table was an oil lamp, with a chimney, electrified now with a flickering bulb, a... Continue reading
Posted Nov 7, 2023 at Watermark
Comment
0
Neighborhood Mid-October
I hear the sweet voice of a young woman making love. “Oh!” she says, “Oh!” The birch trees tremble with sparrows. Yellow leaves and seed husks flicker to the ground. Dragon-Cat leaps to the porch bannister. He sits, staring at the window, waiting to be noticed. Two squirrels have sex in the garden. They take turns, being boy, being girl. In the arctic, a glacier cracks another piece of itself into the sea. ~sb Continue reading
Posted Oct 20, 2023 at Watermark
Comment
2
Why I'm Not There
Posted Dec 27, 2022 at Watermark
Comment
0
Why I'm Not There
Posted Dec 27, 2022 at Abide
Comment
0
even in sleep
an accumulation of wounds a collection of injuries scars not visible to casual eyes i sit on a stool brushing my hair snow drifts, thick and slow past the window each day the death count rises i am glad to be old to not witness what is coming my own selfish choices even in sleep there is no forgiveness ~ sharon brogan january 02022 #poem Continue reading
Posted Jan 21, 2022 at Watermark
Comment
1
questions
How does the writer's brain work? It is a bewilderment to me, why it must be this particular word, or that particular image. How is it that now, in this time of several national and global crises, I emerge from sleep holding to this juxtaposition: i wake my face is wet the blue heron stands one foot on a slate roof ??? Continue reading
Posted Jan 17, 2021 at Watermark
Comment
1
snapshot poem 13 january 2021
sleep in grief wake in grief grief at the doorstep Continue reading
Posted Jan 14, 2021 at Watermark
Comment
0
Snapshot Poem 16 December 2020
each day slips away fish in deep water Continue reading
Posted Dec 18, 2020 at Watermark
Comment
0
I Don't Know How
Continue reading
Posted Dec 3, 2020 at Watermark
Comment
2
Thanksgiving 2020
thanksgiving so many empty chairs **** Continue reading
Posted Nov 26, 2020 at Watermark
Comment
0
Snapshot Poem 12 November 2020
Tuesday we woke to high lines of snow along the birch limbs out our bedroom window. Two days later snow has congealed to slush balls that fall to the ground with thuds. Frost shadows rest across grass and asphalt. Sky changes mood from fog to blue. They are counting votes again in Arizona. They will count again elsewhere. The country’s mood changes from slush to thud to fog to blue. Continue reading
Posted Nov 12, 2020 at Watermark
Comment
0
07 November 2020
I am so tired . . . Continue reading
Posted Nov 7, 2020 at Watermark
Comment
0
NaNoWriMo Update
As of today, 06 November 2020, I have written 10,033 words. I'm on schedule for "Just Write". In other news, we are still pretending to not know who our next president will be. Continue reading
Posted Nov 6, 2020 at Watermark
Comment
0
Snapshot Poem 04 November 2020
This is a day I did not want. This is a day that does not keep its promise. Today is a day of disappointment and fear. There is blue in the sky, but it’s pale and diffuse. I watch my neighbors from the corners of my eyes. This is not a valley prone to earthquakes, but I feel unsteady anyway. Why do I live here? Do I know you? Snow is coming. I fear we will be buried. ~sharon brogan Continue reading
Posted Nov 4, 2020 at Watermark
Comment
1
NaNoWriMo 2020
Posted Nov 3, 2020 at Watermark
Comment
0
More...
Subscribe to sbpoet’s Recent Activity
0 Favorites
Blogs and Sites