Rattlecast Tonight

Sarah Russell3 Comments

Wahoo! I’ll be reading a poem on the Rattlecast tonight – 8 pm EST. The first hour will be an interview with poet Rhina Espaillat.

I’ll be on in the second hour when 10 poems written to a weekly prompt are read. This week’s prompt was “how one of the Cognitive Biases has shaped your life.”

My poem “Pussywillow Kitten” addresses Authority Bias, with a little Incentivization and Optimism Bias thrown in. Here’s the link to the Rattlecast: https://www.youtube.com/live/dDMro5__1Gk

The Rattlecast is now on You Tube. It turned out to be a somewhat disjointed evening, since the featured poet Rhina Espaillat had technical difficulties and couldn’t join us. Instead, two of her good poet friends were quickly summoned, and they gave her work an analysis and read her poetry in a way that seemed even more intimate than actually having her with us.

The second half of the evening was poets who had written to the prompt this month, including me. I did a less than stellar job with my poem, but it got a couple of good comments from the participants.

Here’s the link: https://www.youtube.com/live/dDMro5__1Gk?si=ExALFn5UlIrCd0OB

Butterfly

Sarah Russell11 Comments

My poem “Butterfly” was posted today by Silver Birch Press in their “Bugs and Insects” series. My thanks to Melanie, the editor of Silver Birch. The poem was first published in the anthology Is It Hot in Here or Is It Just Me.

Butterfly

A yellow butterfly floats above the dandelions
and bindweed.

I bought this rundown place unseen—
transplanted my roots to unfamiliar soil
closer to children and grandchildren.

I breakfast on the derelict patio before the sun
rises through the trees to scald the day.
The yard needs a gardener’s hand. “Next summer
after I get settled,” I promise, aware I am speaking
aloud to the butterfly, my visitor most mornings.

She must be female, I think, with the care she takes
of her lovely black accessories against the yellow
of her wings, the jaunty matching spots of makeup
above her eyes, the tilt of her feathery antennae.

I’ve never seen her land, always moving as I do
from painting rooms and finding flooring
to battling sugar ants who found the kitchen
years ago and like it there. She is a friend in this city
where my children move at a tempo not my own.

The butterfly’s time is short, as mine will be—
just enough to make this last place home
until the day when decisions are made for me.
I’ve promised not to fuss when that day comes.
For now, with the butterfly, I’ll follow the breeze,
feel sunlight and dew, live free.

My thanks to Rose Mary Boehm

Sarah Russell11 Comments

Way back in 2014, when I was just starting to write poetry again and had never been published, Rose Mary Boehm approached me and said she would like ten (10!) of my poems to publish on her blog. I didn’t know what poems of mine were good or bad, so I sent her 20 and told her to pick. She gave me confidence and my start, and I’ve never looked back. I hope other poets out there will find an angel to guide their first efforts.

Recently, she republished my poems, so here’s the link. Thanks, Rose, for believing in me.

https://houseboathouse.blogspot.com/2014/01/featured-poet-no-22-sarah-russell.html?q=sarah+russell

My Mother-in-Law Boby Clariana

Sarah Russell14 Comments

Storyteller Poetry Review has just published 5 of my poems about my wonderful mother-in-law. Some have been published before; some are first-timers. My thanks to editor Sharon Knutson for this opportunity to share an extraordinary life.

https://stortellerpoetryreview.blogspot.com/2025/05/honoring-mother-in-law-part-2.html

This August morning

Sarah Russell2 Comments

A third poem published today by Red Eft Review. My thanks to Corey Cook for accepting all 3 recent poems that I submitted. I love this poem coming out now in late April, since I just hung out our hummingbird feeders for the summer.

This August morning
hummingbirds are at the feeder—
impossible creations dipping
into the nectar.
I wonder at their flair for flying
backwards, their nests no bigger 
than a walnut shell, their weeklong 
journeys on whirligig wings following 
the flowers. It gives me peace, 
thinking of small, irridescent lives,
momentary and breathtaking.

New England Spring

Sarah Russell7 Comments

I love the rainy, fecund springs we had when we lived in New England. Tried to capture it in this poem published today by Red Eft Review.

It has rained for days—sometimes early fog 
and a gentle mist that reminds me of the moors; 
sometimes the wind and drench of squalls 
from the Atlantic. Flowers love this spring, 
but worms sprawl helpless on sidewalks 
and die in the first patch of sun. The dog 
comes home bedraggled from his walks, 
happy and shaking on the stoop. I drape 
my slicker over a chair with a towel beneath 
to catch the drops, brew some tea, open 
my journal. A perfect morning.

Great Horned Owls, Mid-Winter

Sarah Russell1 Comment

My thanks to Red Eft Review and editor Corey Cook for publishing my poem today.

On our evening walk we hear them
in a stand of oak and pine—the female’s
breathy notes; the male’s answer, deeper,
like tones blown across a stoneware jug.
Before their sortie over snowy fields
they whisper greetings to their mates—
an alliance voiced in shadow. Our breath
clouds in the twilight.

Confession

Sarah Russell6 Comments

Just learned that my poem “Confession” (a vintage poem from 2018) was republished in Jama’s Alphabet Soup. My thanks to Jama and to Jayne Ferrer of Your Daily Poem for telling me. You just never know when something wonderful like this is going to happen, especially on a dreary March morning. Here’s the poem:

CONFESSION 


There’s a spider in the bathtub.
I saw him last night, and he’s still there
this morning, though I gave him fair warning
when I brushed my teeth before bed.
I need to take a shower.
But there’s a SPIDER.
In the BATHTUB.
My Dr. Schweitzer is arguing with my Eek.
He’s small –
smaller than a shirt button –
and round and 8 legs look like 3 too many.
But he’s in the BATHTUB.
Where I SHOWER.
NAKED.
I turn on the water, and he wiggles
a couple of legs but the spray doesn’t hit him,
so I don’t get a pass from Karma.
Then my Eek takes over,
and I get a piece of toilet paper,
and he wiggles 2 legs again but doesn’t run
so my Eek doesn’t get to plead self-defense.
I try to make it painless –
a squish and done – but then I wonder
if he was just trying to say hello,
and the shower’s kind of lonely
without him in there waving at me.

Bird Woman

Sarah Russell3 Comments

A second poem published in Red Eft Review.

Bird Woman

Nearing the shore at twilight,
she drifts in the wind’s current.
The lagoon below is still
as held breath.
Her eyes skirt the trees,
the marshy undergrowth
for a safe settling.
She tires easily now,
seeks sheltered landings
on timeworn wings,
her flight nearing
an unfamiliar shore
that beckons
with no promises.