Donna's comments (member since Jun 17, 2009)

Donna's comments from the ¡ POETRY ! group.

Thanks, Jerin. It's been a rough week, so your message cheered me considerably. :)

THE INSANITY OF CONFORMITY
by Donna Marie Merritt

Why do I see them,
Day after day,
Pulling the wild flowers that grow there,

Trimming,
Edging,
Mowing…

Attempting to achieve an absurd, acute lawn?
Why won’t they simply allow the flowers to grow freely,
And pull the sharp, metallic blades of grass?

Wouldn’t a lawn of delicate dandelions be more delightful?

That's my point. Those 22 votes could have gone anywhere. If the second-place poem won by more than 22 votes, it wouldn't matter, but the voting was so close among the rest of the poems.

And, btw, it is a lovely poem. The subject is close to a book lover's heart!

Sarah, not your fault. Just thought we would have revoted.

Used Books, was already featured as Poem of the Month in the September 2008 newsletter.

Hello, Donna Rae! Good to meet you. :)

Obododimma wrote: "Goodread, Donna. I like it."

Getting a bit confused with two of us named Donna! I'm Donna Marie Merritt. If anyone has a comment, you can call me Donna Marie if you like. Thanks! :)

Ivy, thank you! You don't know how much good your note did my heart. Just coming back to poetry after a long absence.

Amal, that's beautiful. Nice work.

Aly ♫SOCCER GOALIE♫SOFTBALL CATCHER♫ wrote: "Wow! So many people here are actual authors. I am only a high school student trying to get started in poetry."

Aly, you are an author also if you write! Read and write and write and read. And persist. No one ever told me in school that I could be a writer until I was in college, but even then I had no guidance so I didn't pursue it until years later. There's such intensity in the teen years. It's a wonderful time to begin.

You should turn this into a children's book. Lots of illustration potential.

Promise and a Prayer

Winds weaving, grieving rain,
Ship swiftly moving,
Patience proving truth sails home
To return not men, but names.

Slipping silently into view,
Salt waves slapping, trapping sound.
Seven years, yet all recall
Voices, faces of the crew.

Smoothly does she glide to port…
We strain to hear the shout,
A laugh, the bell, a sailor’s song,
Story, glory to report.

Not so—upon this deck we stand,
Searching for a missing past,
Greedily as hungry foxes
Stealing from the hunters’ band.

Sailor’s note aboard the Promise
Tells us, “Hunger and disease
Arrived till nothing has survived
But bones and searing solace.

“Death is now a welcome force
And I, the last, must ask
That to New Haven Promise sail,
Dignity our final course.”

Empowered by a noble quest,
None to steer but time and tide,
Promise sailed upon a prayer,
Host to ghosts, its guests.