• Tomorrow: A Poem, Allison Grace

    Tomorrow: A Poem

    I wrote this poem way back in September of 2017. If I recall correctly, I had put off writing something all the way up to the submission deadline for a little magazine. I had no time and no ideas, but I had to come up with something. Hence this poem. And so, to all my procrastinating friends, this one’s for you. If you ever get around to reading it. 😉 Tomorrow, The word that means Later, When I feel like it, Never. Tomorrow. When I will clean my room, Do my homework, Fold the laundry, Wash the dishes. Tomorrow. A mythical place, Where hours roam free, All the time in…

  • fuchsia violin Allison Grace

    Fuchsia Violin–A Poem

    Guess what? I have another poem for you! I wrote this one a couple of years ago at a writing conference. I attended a poetry workshop and we had to write something based on a random color and object combination from a list on the whiteboard. I picked “fuchsia violin.” Swish, swing, A fuchsia violin. It’s zipping, it’s swirling, dancing and twirling, an ecstasy of elation. Joy and power, gentle but strong, the music flows around me, like cherry blossoms in the wind, a rippling puddle of reflection. It’s dipping, it’s whirling, and then, it’s done.

  • Birds a sonnet by Allison Grace

    Birds–A Poem

    I hope you enjoy this writing-inspired English sonnet! This was yet another piece I wrote for my creative writing class. (Can you tell I had fun with that course? 😂) It’s written in the style of Shakespeare’s famous sonnets. It was certainly a challenge to get the rhythms right, but it was a lot of fun at the same time. Quiet clink of metal on glass, a plink, he prepares to press the pen to paper. Figures dance on blank walls, blacker than ink, fantastical shadows cast by the single taper. He scatters words like seeds across parchment. Little birds take the thoughts and entrust them to penthouses and bleak…

  • upside-down a poem allison grace

    Upside-Down–A Poem

    Good morning, friends! I wrote this free-verse poem for my creative writing course. I hope you enjoy it and it brings a smile to your face! My dad thinks poetry is stupid. He says poets simply decide to hit enter randomly without any good reason. Why can’t this all be one line? What makes this one word so special it deserves a line of its own? My dad likes things like right angles And strategy games And big books of theology And cinnamon cookies And Ohio State football He designs pumps and understands math, but when he reads poems, He wonders if they would make more sense Upside-down

  • Things on an Author's Desk

    Things on an Author’s Desk–A Poem

    This summer, I’ve been taking a creative writing class for college. It’s been alternately stressful and fun. Over the past couple weeks, I’ve been working on some poetry. After reading over the chapter in my textbook covering different forms of poetry, short stories, and creative nonfiction, I decided to try one of them. I’m calling this a “Free-Verse List Poem.” I hope you find it entertaining. “Things on an Author’s Desk” ONE stuffed black cat, wearing a teal bowtie ELEVEN wooden pencils, all dull, FIVE with original erasers TWO tape dispensers, ONE shaped like a cupcake, the other empty ONE magnet bookmark, Grumpy Cat brand THREE tubes of chapstick, TWO…

  • Windsong

    Windsong: A Poem

    The wind makes its music in the trees, Rustling the branches, Rattling the leaves.   It brushes its silvery fingers Through the grass, Across the colors, of stained window glass.   It whistles its soothing tones Through the fields of green and yellow, Across the shining surface of a pond.   Sometimes it turns into a lion, Ripping, roaring, tearing, Snarling, snapping, growling.   It bats paper bags, Drives the rain, Snarls the trees.   It swats crispy leaves, Snatches hats, Rips away homes.   It blows in the storm clouds, Then brings in the sun.   The wind plays its music, Sweet, wild tones In the evening.   It…

  • English Sonnet

    English Sonnets and Baseball Games

    My last semester of high school, I studied Shakespeare’s tragedies (Julius Caesar, Hamlet, Macbeth, King Lear) and various sonnets. One of my assignments was to write my own English sonnet. I was inspired by the Irish tune “The Foggy Dew.” It’s beautifully haunting and one of my favorite pieces to play on my flute.     Midsummer’s day looked over war, And now the soft shadow of night doth fall Where long grass once rolled with heath of the moor. Now death’s gentle cry rings out a chill call. The haunting pipes long since ceased weeping, Éire’s bold colors no longer sway proud. And yet the fog comes quietly creeping…