Spill Your Guts: Poems in Time of Political Upheaval

Spill Your Guts: Write Poems in This Time of Political Upheaval

Poetry and Pizza

Wednesday evening, April 4 2018, 6 p.m. – 7:30 p.m.

Ashfield Congregational Church, 429 Main Street, Ashfield, MA

If you have never written a poem, now is the time to write one.

Come together, not to write letters and emails, but to put yourself onto paper. Anger, frustration, humor, disbelief, belief… spill it all out.  Why?

“What I know for sure is that speaking your truth is the most powerful tool we all have.” – Oprah

Alice Barrett will lead the session. She has written some of the worst poems in history, so she will be not be judging anyone’s writing. She has also written some good ones, so she can be of help.

For inspiration try:

Before The Vote After a book of poems by Jane Yolen

Resistance, Rebellion, Life: 50 Poems Now edited by Amit Majmudar; and

http://newversenews.blogspot.com which publishes poems about the news.


by Sister Lou Ella Hickman

what        and       who

would you be

if tomorrow

all   guns      vanished

like     children   who   died    in schools

from http://newversenews.blogspot.com

RSVP: alice.barrett1@gmail.com

Sponsored by Ashfield UCC Missions and Social Justice Committee

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A Rainbow Fell Before Me

A rainbow fell before me

On a dusky pale road.

It sounded like a bird.

It sounded like boots splashing in a puddle.


A rainbow fell sad upon a road.

The road curved away

Leaving her behind with

A bird,

A tree,

The wind.



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Time Change Spoiler Alert

Spoiler alert

Turn your clocks forward

Unless they turn forward


Then don’t or you’ll be two hours late for church

Spoiler alert

Turn left when you think you should

Unless GPS told you the same


Then don’t or you’ll end up where you were

Spoiler alert

Watch tonight’s news tonight

Unless it’s YouTube


Then it will be the yesterday’s tonight’s news

Spoiler alert

Parallel universes exist

You just have to stay alert

To stay in the one you want to

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Prayer Written during President’s State of the Union Address

Okay, I know You’re around.

No need for me to worry or to seek or to sing psalms.

You’re around.

Don’t get all poetic on me about You being reflected in everything I see.

Or that You dwell in every heart.



My indifference will not effect You in anyway.

Grass will grow, clouds will form.

Animals will mate and sleep.

Humans will be kind

Humans will declare war and kill each other’s children.


But my God, Your indifference cuts deep.


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Profile in Silhouette

Behind him a brick wall drips with old colors,

He is facing West 82nd Street.

His lashes droop down, his eyes are closed.

All I can see is the blackness where his face was,


As if his face had been cut out of the brick

And the brick holds his face for me.

I stare, and the shadow stares ahead,


Daring me to remember the color of his eyes

The cut of his hair, his name.

Philip, I say to the picture,

Philip, with blue eyes.


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This forest is so young

My hands can reach around almost each tree,

My arms can tightly embrace even the oldest.

Yet such quiet pervades the forest

That I forget time.


Quiet is itself older than trees and forest,

Yet chooses to live here,

Comforted by the slow growth of maple and pine,

Hiding in the rustle of wind-shaken branches.



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Feather and Skin

The sixty-ninth year is coming upon me

Since first I made to count.

Still the self-same hawk circles over,

Or another in its place,


Skimming clouds overhead, watching

My old bones and eyes.

She disappears a moment into the sun

So that I can remember the first,


When we met, midway between earth and cloud,

And touched,

And recognized one and the other,

In midair feather and skin.


Unwearied still, she ranges beyond my eyes,

Stopping only to spark a dream or

A recognition, or better yet,

A reminder,


In midair between feather and skin



(With thanks to WB Yeats)

Posted in nature poetry, Poetry, Spiritual | Tagged | 1 Comment