« Janus | Main | Poem to the Editor »

01 January 2008


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Mary Harwood

A pink smudge
Of dawn signals the new day
The new year.


Of Gods and Astrology

Janus and Pieces
look both ahead and behind.
The old is made new.


after the downpour
a washed meadow glistening
with shy renewals

This is the final haiku of a series that I wrote over Christmas and just posted on my blog.

Happy New Year!


snow snow blowers snow
covered cars snow shovel
one body holding it

Helen Ruggieri

first day of the year
tinsel glitters
in the gutter


I throw out golden corn for good luck and small juncos reply with joy.

Kenneth Wolman

Hope in all absence
common sense with doom conspire
nothing but the waiting


Good morning everyone -- and Happy New Year!

I have lots of poems to add -- and must have coffee --

Thank you so much for your poems!


All night long the wind
buffets against the house
blowing in the new year.

Ann White

This chameleon day -
born in the pitch of midnight,
turns yellow at dawn.


On every branch snow
in all particles of breath
no two dreams alike.

First day of the year.
Wishes ride in on snow flakes
ride out on black slush.


Heavy snow falls
the dog curls in the pillows;
I write my hopes and fears.


on the new year and getting back to my american sentences:

i will learn to carry entire days in seventeen strong syllables.

from the polkadotwitch

happy new year!!!

Patricia (a/k/a Roswila)

filling the empty
rocking chair with shadows
New Year's candle


The song has been sung
The lyrics still in my ear,
End on a high note


back to back
split by bright fireworks
...unmarked year


greens and warm chicken
good luck and health for the year
two thousand and eight


As our bonfire burns
the old year into ashes
a new year rises.

Happy New Year!


crisp, blue, snowless wind,
empty of obligation,
blows in the first day


Calendar dreams fade,
dissolving with each season--
like ink in a sunworn diary.

E Bodien

like yesterday
the path still thick with ice
warm new year greetings



full moon up above
dark train passes thru the night
clouds rolling on in

Lori Witzel

Tooth-ache: I recall
my dad-the-dentist's office,
the books I read there.


New Year beginning,
to share with a genuine
voice of my choosing.

Who would have guessed that
after all these years I would
come out of hiding?

A new lease on life
as a writer the freedom
to share and be known.


(Wow - you should do these more often, SB! Such fun to read.)

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