Week 1 National Poetry Month: A Portrait of Midnight, The Window Fellow, Rainy Days & Writing

Well, I am a week late posting these, but better late than never, right?! Actually, now that I’ve entered the third trimester of pregnancy we had a few preterm labor scares earlier this month, and I honestly just wasn’t feeling poetic or bloggy.  Thankfully, the baby is safe, I am healthy (albeit dreadfully uncomfortable), and we’re crossing our fingers for a full term little girl in early July.

Originally, I was planning to blog five poems a week (including snippets from song lyrics and such) but a few of these poems took a little more TLC than I was anticipating, and I didn’t want to shortchange you.  Thankfully, they are better poems for it, so I hope you enjoy them:



Falling, falling down forever
Pale and chilly came the moonlight
Casting diamonds on the river
Breaking through dark shades of night.

High aloft in yonder oak tree
To a silent audience
Sings the Mockingbird, though lonely,
Sings he with such confidence.

Darkness steals the vibrant colors
From the trees and flowers bright
From the red barn; grey it’s looming
Like a tombstone in the night.

Rising from the sleepy river
From the hollows and the trees
Creeps a fog of pallid silver
Strangely moving ‘gainst the breeze.

Like a mystic spell of stardust
Dew drops gather on cold ground
Dull and stripped of all its color
Yet sparkling bright without a sound.



There he sits
Gazing out of the window
Into a world
Where he can never go
For he is small
And he is naïve
He is a house cat
Named Shadowfax.

He watches the lizards
He watches the birds
He watches the shadows
Creep across the lawn
All day he sits
On his windowsill perch
Content to observe
As he basks in the sun.



You’ll never find a cup of tea
Or pastry that’s to large for me
I love to think, and think, and write
On rainy days in grey-lorn light.

I love the sound of rain a-patting
On the roof and window splatting,
I love the rolls of thunder crashing
And the blaze of lightning flashing!

I love the fragrance of wet earth
As bathing sparrows splash with mirth
And cats watch from a distance, glumly
Wishing it were dry and sunny.


All poems written by Jennifer Grassman, April, 2014

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