The month of March is famous for the Ides of March, March 15, when Roman Emperor Julius Caesar was killed, the coming of spring, St. Patrick’s Day and March Madness, the NCAA men’s basketball tournament, but did you know March 21 is World Poetry Day? World Poetry Day celebrates one of humanity’s most treasured forms of cultural and linguistic expression and identity.

Poetry has been practiced throughout history, in every culture and on every continent, according to the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO). Poetry speaks to our common humanity and our shared values, transforming the simplest of poems into a powerful catalyst for dialogue and peace.

UNESCO first adopted March 21 as World Poetry Day during its 30th General Conference in Paris in 1999 to support linguistic diversity through poetic expression and increasing the opportunity for endangered languages to be heard. World Poetry Day is the occasion to honor poets, revive oral traditions of poetry recitals, promote the reading, writing and teaching of poetry, foster the convergence between poetry and other arts such as theatre, dance, music and painting, and raise the visibility of poetry in the media. As poetry continues to bring people together across continents, all are invited to join in.

Along the Front Range of Colorado, residents practice and read poetry. Businesses in Nederland and the Gilpin County Library have hosted regular poetry readings, and residents have had several poetry books published. For example, in 1997, Sockwood Press published a literary anthology by residents of the Peak to Peak area of the Colorado Rocky Mountains, called Under the Devil’s Thumb. It features poems and essays from some of the area’s poets and writers.

So this month of March 2022, have another Guinness, watch a little basketball, and read and write some poetry to share for future generations.

Outside, the snow flies across my periphery

I look up sometimes to see what is moving

At the edge of my vision.

Spirits walked at the edge of my vision

As I returned from the world

At the edge of my periphery.

Much like the snow,

indistinguishable in its individual details,

moves as a sheet of fluid motion,

along the waves of the wind.

So too did the souls that moved,

indistinguishable, along waves

that I could not see or feel.

I wondered if I could fly along

with the snowflakes,

joining the blasting sheets of snow,

as another unique flake, as one,

in an infinite field of uniquely beautiful crystals.

But I did not wonder if I could join the spirits,

Because I knew I had just left that eternal cosmic flow

To join with the earthly spirit, as one,

In an infinite field of uniquely beautiful souls.

~ Kirk C. Watkins

2022 March Hide

As the Ukrainians march to war

Our emotions do so soar

To the sorrow that is here

Because of murder that is near

To lose sons to mayhem

The worst that could ever happen

To give birth in such pain

And lose them for nothing

The ground lost

Consecrated with the blood of someone’s child

Lost land of ancestors

The home of their youth

Democracy, autocracy, no matter to the heart

No way to overpower the war machine

Life is more precious than government

Sons have no identity war can diene

Who cares, who makes the rules

If faced with being murdered

You want to fire at the cruel

Hide and watch until it’s deserted

I have always been against war

Christian ethics say turn the other cheek

If it happened in my country

I would be the one to run away in a streak

Take your sons away and hide

Let them have what they want and decide

It’s not worth my sons’ hides

Mothers only should decide

It’s not an accepted perspective

Patriots should volunteer to die

Mothers know better

Our sons and husbands more dear than flag

Sons more treasured

I don’t want my loved ones to kill.

Husband more cherished

I don’t want my loved ones killed

The land is not defensible

A government so small

Fought for through the ages

Agony forever, pain and misery

Turn your head down in prayer

Human souls surrendered

Morality is rare

Humanity is tendered

~Vicky McCulloch

Delivering Goods 

A cold, wintry spring day continues

record-setting

Snow in the Rockies near Pinecliffe.

Hard snow pellets

Click the windshield. Fog rises from the

two-lane highway,

Drifting above two-foot snow ridges,

into evergreen pines.

I drive alone toward home, a rare occasion these days.

Usually, Wife Anne commands the passenger seat, arm rest,

Red, wavy hair flowing down green eyes,

broad nose and cheeks.

Smug smile, sexy neck and two luscious

breasts.

We share cigarettes, photos and jokes on

her smart phone.

Today, I remember delivering newspapers together

Along the Peak to Peak Highway from

Nederland to Central City.

We picked them up in Broomfield, stacking bundles in the truck bed.

Back at the Pinecliffe cabin, I carried the

papers up hill

While she ran labels, glued them to the

papers stacked in totes.

After carrying them back to the truck we

watched movies,

Made love in the big bed until sleep

came and the alarm rang.

Next morning, routes began at the post

office, then stopping

At quick shops, schools, book stores,

pharmacies, newspaper boxes.

Anne conversed with clerks, owners,

gathering news and personal updates.

After delivering, lunch and rides home

to Denver were in order.

A year later, we quit delivering, pursuing

full-time jobs in the city.

As I drive alone that spring day, South

Boulder Creek tumbles

Downhill, gray, muddy, foaming white at

the top, like our tumultuous

Lives leading to destinations full of

hopes, dreams, as yet uncharted.

A herd of brown, mottled deer appears

on the right side of the road,

Looking down and grazing, peering at

passing cars, not moving aside.

Anne wants to see critters when we drive

through the mountains.

Sometimes fleeting deer, bobcat, fox

flash by. Moose nose ponds.

Anne found work in her trained field of

massage therapy, lost jobs, gained

Others, occasionally toiling at grocery

stores, delis. I continued work

As a newspaper reporter and found a

combined laundry, loan business.

She shares her life with me and rides to

Mountain government meetings.

She takes photographs, runs interference

during interviews and provides ideas.

She digs in to help my 90-year-old Pastor

father she calls Papa.

She cooks, preaches at church, creates

and proofreads bulletins, answers

Phones, assists with computers, bills,

family ancestry and any other tasks.

The snow turns to rain as I speed onto

the plains and approach Denver.

A soaked, hooded baby carriage lies

abandoned along the four-lane highway

Like her constant protection of three

grown children, six grandchildren.

She becomes “mom,” to my niece,

advising her, transporting grandkids to

school.

“I’m keeping all my eggs in one basket,”

Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald

Croon on the jazz radio station as I

drive. “I’m betting everything I got on

you.”

You always deliver the goods, baby, I add

to the song, thinking of our lives

Together for many years. That’s all I’ll

ever need, and that’s very fine by me.

~John Scarffe

To Anne, upon our third Wedding

Anniversary and her 57th Birthday

ST. PATRICK’S DAY LIMERICK

My grandmother’s father, an orphan from Cork

Claimed to be English, arriving New York

With a surname like Dixon

He was able to mix in

More quickly than Murphy, McGinn or O’Rourke

~ Andy Melick

Lonely in the house

Our dog Trixie passed away two nights ago.

Now the house is lonely without her beautiful

Brown eyes and her wagging tail asking for attention.

Her tail would wag her whole body and could clear off the coffee table.

She used to sit by my side as I typed on the computer.

She always wanted to be by her people or on her bed by our TV,

But her favorite pleasure was going “Bye Bye” in the car.

She went with us everywhere, whether it was the grocery store or

The Colorado mountains where she would run free

And try to dig in abandoned burrows and sniff at all the trees and bushes for any critters.

During our walks, squirrels would

catch her eye, never caught by her, though.

In Utah, we stayed in a motel

And she became the favorite of the hotel staff

Who doted on her, as she wagged her tail attentively to all.

Now I am alone in the house.

Every once in a while, I think I hear the clink of her collar tags on her bowl,

Or the clicking of her toenails on the wood floors

but she is not there.

Now we have another dog, Ruby, a Rottweiler and German Shepherd.

She is a lot friskier than Trixie was in her older years.

She watches TV and jumps at the dogs on the screen,

But she does not come and sit with me when I’m on the computer.

~John Scarffe

Shapeshifter

We snuggle

your knees behind mine

every inch of us touching

your arm draped over my shoulder

Weightless now

silk of a dream

an empty shape filled with stars

your heart beating only in mine

I arise

fill my pockets with your ashes

carry you to mountain vistas

where every flower wears your face

~Serene Karplus

Razzle Dazzle

Freedom Buried

Behind a shadow of false appearance

Eyes trained to find the true Image

To reach beneath the Surface

Distinctive Manifestations

Standing fast behind

Slashed lines of jagged inflections

Casting a False appearance....

Upon visible perception

Individual Characters Fast

Upon a sea of trouble

Restraining clear contributions from Sight

Deluded images are doubled

~M. Lee Fowler, 1992

Tomorrow

What is “Tomorrow?”

Is “Tomorrow” ...really another day?

Or just a word that people say?

I think “Tomorrow”...is like a light.

That comes in the morning.

And then off at night

Yesterday... I said “Tomorrow”

And “Tomorrow”...is gone

but we can be sure...

that “Tomorrow”... will come.

~M. Lee Fowler

1965, 12 years old

Words for the Week

And the drifts recede in sun

showing chicks and hens

flattened paintbrush

and glinting mica in stones

there are paths

where last week

there was nothing but

wind spun white and sun gold

there will be more storms sure

but today for a minute

there is spring

and the breeze

on my winter white face

is warm and birdsonged

~Alexander Joseph

Au Courage!

Save Ukraine, save Ukraine!

the now almost universal refrain

they haven’t forgotten the loss of rights

they know from experience from previous fights

never trust a leader of the KGB

nothing he fears more than speech that is free

“telling the truth” is the rallying cry

as Zelenski inspires his friends and allies

“You will see our faces, not our backs”

if you cross our border in your futile attack

he’s picked up a weapon and gone into the trenches

to show his defiance when they broke down the fences

he’s in front of his people as the world can see

not hiding at home behind a big screen tv

leadership is courage not bullying others

shoulder to shoulder as countrymen and brothers

unafraid to stand up and face with pride

the threats to his nation that come from outside

perhaps we’re too distant from our own history

to understand what it takes to really be free

would that the Big Lie should pale in comparison

to citizens who gather and form their own garrison

regular folks stand in front of the tanks

for an example of resolve we owe them our thanks

we stand in awe of their shining example

shall we take it to heart as our own freedoms are trampled?

do we see what a thug and a despot can do

when we take for granted the red white and blue?

I fear for our future if we simply don’t see

the determination it takes to really be free.

global protest and prayers should inspire us all

shall we wake up ourselves and respond to the call?

and save our defiance and full throated rants

to defend ourselves against true tyrants?

a Zelenski type leader is the bravest of men

who will lay his life down and his country defend

in him are the hopes of all humankind

that truth, courage, and freedom are all intertwined.

~ Christine Turner