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Unkempt Sky

26 April, 2017: Unkempt Sky


by Elise Geither
Unkempt Sky
The light
on the wall holds
all I know of this life.
The scents of my home
are no longer mine.
I cannot see:
The fields where my brothers tended their goats.
The tents where  my mothers cooked, gave birth, wove.
The sky of my father covering our lands.
I dream of home, the babies,
the rough cloth in bright greens, reds, and blues.
A yellow scarf held my hair
from going astray.
Oh father, oh sky,
the myrrh and amber
remind me that,
like a bird,
I am not alone.
I am the smoke that rises
to meet some unkempt sky.
“Unkempt Sky,” by Elise Geither. © Elise Geither, 2017. Used by permission of the author.
Elise Geither, PhD, has been teaching for more than 20 years. Her plays have received production around the country, and her short play, The Stone, was a Pushcart Prize nominee. Her poems have appeared in publications that include The Artful Dodge and Morpo. Her chapbooks from Crisis Chronicles and Nightballet Press are available, along with her academic book on supporting students on the autism spectrum in academic writing.


The journal 3 Elements Review publishes poems integrating three disparate terms that the editors assign. Try composing a poem on one of these past assignments: husk-echo-quell, tandem bicycle-ache-procession or glaze-thread-murmur.

What a delicious, sweet smell.
It follows me as I exit the bakery,
And sit near a willow tree.

The rustle from the bag in my hand,
Frightens the doves singing their laments.
Their melody grows higher due to their discontent.

I pull from the bag a warm doughnut.
The thread of glaze glistens appeasingly in the sun.
Hearing a murmur of voices, I wonder if they want one.
4/28/2017 12:30:12 PM

Mary Omalley
I, too miss the sky,
its music and notes that wing and play with birds.
I miss the white capped waves and green eyed rocks.
The small stones, the broken sand fragments.
I have forgotten how to dress.
I am a broken vise with no hat or mittens.
The umbrellas are lost to color. The words repeat the same the same and we all have new names.
4/26/2017 9:04:45 PM

Chantelle Brady
Depression causes me to feel
causes my eyes to
glaze over
causes me to feel like
a thread trying to
go through the eye of a needle
causes me to be quiet and
be a shadow of my true self
Depression is a murmur while
happiness is a yell or a scream
It feels like an elephant
sitting on my chest
cement blocks on my feet
sleepy like I took melatonin
vulnerable like I want to
curl into a little ball and
stay there forever
When will the sun shine again?
I cry for "no reason" when
I am depressed
I hate those feelings
I never want to feel them again
when the feeling stops,
I can taste, feel, laugh again
The sun is always brighter
after coming out from behind
the huge boulder of depression.
I have a personality again.
my favorite color is purple again.
I am alive!...again.
4/26/2017 2:57:15 PM

N. K. Hasen
Our Life Intertwine

The thread of our life intertwine as one
When we meet in winter when we were young
Kindred spirits we were forever
On that night so long ago

We were everywhere you and I
Traveled far and wide
Saw places we never knew there was
Collected many memories you and I

We grew old through the years
Watched the years changed and go
Heard murmur upon the winds
That one of us soon would go

You rested upon your bed
Your strength all but spent
I was near your side
When it was your turn to die

Your once bright eyes had sparkled
Now glaze over for your time had come
I held your hand one last time
As you slipped away to other side
4/26/2017 11:26:10 AM

betty kovacs

Neither a vegetable nor flower gardener
am I,
so concern for weeds just
pass me by.

The lawn would be mud and moss
if the weeds weren't top boss.
We try for a perfect carpet in the front
but growing a flawless
lawn is just too hard.

From afar the lawn looks
neat and green
but looking closely, weeds
can be seen.

Crabgrass, Goose Grass
are a few varieties I know
and since they are green
anyway, I just let them
4/26/2017 10:00:28 AM

READ + WRITE: 30 Days of Poetry is a collaboration between Cuyahoga County Public Library and poet Diane Kendig. Our thanks go to Diane and the poets of Northeast Ohio who allowed us to share their poetry.