tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-112716682024-03-07T18:39:46.911-05:00Sally PoetryA new site dedicated to poetry.Sally Bacchettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14765341603688023981noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11271668.post-1139262105874448812006-02-06T16:40:00.000-05:002006-02-06T16:46:32.870-05:00Jus rockin'Don't want no knock,<br />don't want no phone.<br />Wanna rock my baby<br />'fore my baby is grown.<br /><br />Don't bring the news,<br />I just wanna muse<br />on Baby's amazing, gazing blues.<br /><br />Say, Old Mister Clock,<br />can you float me a loan?<br />I need more time--<br />All I had is flown.<br /><br />Don't knock my door,<br />don't ring my phone.<br />I'm rockin' my baby<br />'fore my baby is grown.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.sallybacchetta.com/" target="_blank">Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer</a> © 2006<br /><a href="http://www.sallybacchetta.com/" rel="tag">Freelance Writer</a><br /><a href="http://technorati.com/tag/Poetry" rel="tag">Poetry</a>Sally Bacchettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14765341603688023981noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11271668.post-1134393705859849792005-12-12T08:09:00.000-05:002005-12-16T08:32:05.650-05:00Pesky BrothersI'm proud to share this poem by a special guest author, 10 year old Samantha Swantek. Sam earned Top Honors for <em>Pesky Brothers</em> in Florida's Spring 2005 <em>A Celebration of Young Poets</em> Competition. This is Samantha's first published work, and I look forward to reading more from this talented young writer.<br /><br /><strong>Pesky Brothers</strong><br />Pesky Brothers, like no others,<br />sometimes they can make me shudder.<br />Grubby, shouting,<br />lots of pouting.<br />Little brothers climb the stairs,<br />they make my mom glare and glare.<br />Greasy cups and grimy bowls,<br />my dad says they were raised by wolves.<br />Murky bath water,<br />bloody toes.<br />Don't come near me with that runny nose!<br />They even share dirty clothes!<br />Then again, they can be cute.<br />Even when they burp and toot.<br />They can really make me smile.<br />Their hugs are longer than the Nile.<br />Loveable, snuggable and oh so huggable.<br />Meet Nick and Jack, they're 6 and 3.<br />They make life real interesting for me.<br />Pesky brothers some of the time,<br />I'm their big sister and I'm glad they're mine!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.sallybacchetta.com/" target="_blank">Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer</a> © 2005<br /><a href="http://www.sallybacchetta.com/" rel="tag">Freelance Writer</a><br /><a href="http://technorati.com/tag/Poetry" rel="tag">Poetry</a>Sally Bacchettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14765341603688023981noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11271668.post-1130884250454180252005-11-08T20:09:00.000-05:002005-11-08T20:07:00.703-05:00When I Am DustWhen I am dust,<br />I will settle on the first green leaves of the highest branch of the tallest tree <br />I will quiver on the dewy tips of young daffodils, freshly sprung<br />I will float from the rafters of a falling-down barn, and I will be summer<br /><br />When I am dust,<br />I will curl in the sleepy smoke of a spent flame <br />I will tickle the nose of a sun-toasted lion<br />I will dodge the hoof-and-muscle thunder of a thoroughbred on the track, <br />tossing in the split second between all and nothing <br /><br />When I am dust, <br />I will drift like an old mind, random and unaccountable <br />I will mingle with the spray of an inbound wave, misting the footprint shore <br />I will wander through stone-cool Cathedrals and musty lofts, and I will be unhurried <br /><br />When I am dust, <br />I will soar in the wake of a child on a swing, <br />free of time and need and expectation, <br />and I will warm myself in some small, glad corner of a quiet room.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.sallybacchetta.com/" target="_blank">Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer</a> © 2005<br /><a href="http://www.sallybacchetta.com/" rel="tag">Freelance Writer</a><br /><a href="http://technorati.com/tag/Poetry" rel="tag">Poetry</a>Sally Bacchettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14765341603688023981noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11271668.post-1129303254528712202005-10-14T11:18:00.000-04:002005-10-18T12:44:14.770-04:00I Hope I Never ForgetFirst seeing you<br />you seeing me<br />feeling that I had come home, <br /><br />Your face when you dance<br />your morning voice<br />the time I saw you cry, <br /><br />Your faith in God<br />your faith in me<br />the safety of your lap,<br /><br />Your baseball mitt<br />your summer skin<br />the sound of you saying my name, <br /><br />The first time you called<br />your hand on my back<br />hearing you say “my wife”,<br /><br />The curve of your mouth<br />your step on the stairs<br />holding my hand in your sleep.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.sallybacchetta.com/" target="_blank">Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer</a> © 2005<br /><a href="http://www.sallybacchetta.com/" rel="tag">Freelance Writer</a><br /><a href="http://technorati.com/tag/Poetry" rel="tag">Poetry</a>Sally Bacchettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14765341603688023981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11271668.post-1122638906161996462005-07-29T08:04:00.000-04:002005-07-29T08:12:01.966-04:00Day of DaysOn a day not today,<br />up and over a breathless hill<br />as beyond as pedal legs can go<br /><br />you and I will wander with the skitter clouds<br />above the weaving green,<br /><br />and clamberclimb a maple tree<br />and danglefeet the stream,<br /><br />and I shall butterlick your kisses in the pelting sun<br /><br /><a href="http://www.sallybacchetta.com/" target="_blank">Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer</a> 2004Sally Bacchettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14765341603688023981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11271668.post-1117704731703216782005-06-02T05:30:00.000-04:002005-07-29T08:12:19.666-04:00SolsticeNature soaks our senses<br />as her summer spree commences,<br />scaling all our fences —<br />sights and sounds and scents galore!<br /><br />Butterflies in full bloom,<br />reeling from the perfume,<br />touch and go the nectar plume<br />like bubbles bobbing by.<br /><br />Quiver in a fern curl —<br />sneak a peek — a gray squirrel<br />emerges with a tail twirl<br />and business on his mind.<br /><br />Chatter brings a blue jay<br />screaming down the runway,<br />mantis folds himself to pray <br />and bumble hums along.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.sallybacchetta.com/" target="_blank">Sally Bacchetta</a> 2004Sally Bacchettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14765341603688023981noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11271668.post-1116474720359042342005-05-18T23:47:00.000-04:002005-07-29T08:13:00.413-04:00I Never StoodI never lived in Africa.<br />I never led a tribe.<br />I never poached a man and sold him to a trader.<br /><br />I never owned a plantation.<br />I never wore a hood.<br />I never dragged a negro out of bed with a flashlight and a shotgun.<br /> <br />I don’t care if you sit in the front. <br />I don’t care if you vote. <br />I don’t care where you eat, drink, live, learn, shop, <br />or how you pray. <br /><br />Never in my life did I spit at anyone,<br />refuse them service, <br />or call them nigger.<br /><br />I never thought you were less.<br />I never thought you were more.<br />I never thought I knew Your Kind.<br /><br />I don’t laugh at the jokes. <br />I don’t cross the street.<br />I don’t lower my voice when I say Black,<br />and I am not afraid of Strong Black Women.<br /><br />I never kept you from wanting more.<br />I never told you to take less.<br />I never stopped you from going to work.<br /><br />I didn’t give up your virginity when you were twelve. <br />I didn’t drop you out of school.<br />I didn’t shoot your father, <br />beat your mother, <br />shake your baby, <br />or pimp your sister.<br />I never jabbed a needle in your arm.<br /><br />I’m a Cracker bitch because I don’t give you a hand up? <br /><br />Sister, I never stood on your fingers.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.sallybacchetta.com/" target="_blank">Sally Bacchetta</a> 2005Sally Bacchettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14765341603688023981noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11271668.post-1113668152985833512005-04-16T12:12:00.000-04:002005-07-29T08:13:14.306-04:00Spring Poetry<em><strong>Printemps</strong></em><br /><br />Behold the blade that springs to greet,<br />and tickle soft the early feet.<br />Emerald shoots between the snow—<br />fair proof of industry below.<br />Pray that I may equal earnest be!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.sallybacchetta.com/" target="_blank">Sally Bacchetta</a> 2004Sally Bacchettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14765341603688023981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11271668.post-1112622466038751802005-04-04T09:23:00.000-04:002005-04-04T11:56:55.296-04:00Happy Birthday, Maya AngelouOn April 4, 1928 God gave new hope, love and courage to the world. Clever God, he wrapped his gift in an ordinary black baby girl and delivered her to St. Louis, Missouri. He wanted to surprise us. <br /><br />He certainly did!<br /><br />Happy Birthday to Maya Angelou! <br /><br />Touched by an Angel<br /> <br />We, unaccustomed to courage<br />exiles from delight<br />live coiled in shells of loneliness<br />until love leaves its high holy temple<br />and comes into our sight<br />to liberate us into life.<br /><br />Love arrives<br />and in its train come ecstasies<br />old memories of pleasure<br />ancient histories of pain.<br />Yet if we are bold,<br />love strikes away the chains of fear<br />from our souls.<br /><br />We are weaned from our timidity<br />In the flush of love's light<br />we dare be brave<br />And suddenly we see<br />that love costs all we are<br />and will ever be.<br />Yet it is only love<br />which sets us free. <br /><br />Maya AngelouSally Bacchettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14765341603688023981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11271668.post-1110808106452430102005-03-14T08:38:00.000-05:002005-07-29T08:13:55.366-04:00Women's History Month - A retrospective, prospective perspective of women who shape me<strong>1924</strong><br />When the only work is packing tomatoes<br />you put your daughter in a long dress <br />and pull a hat down over her face<br />so they can’t tell she’s only eight,<br />because five cents a pail isn’t much,<br />but at least they hire Italians.<br /><br /><br /><br /><strong>Pokey and Nat</strong><br />Natalie wears green every day <br />and socks only on Sunday.<br />“Got ta dress for Jesus”, she says, <br />tossing her head like the women <br />who argue with their men about other women.<br /><br />Her arms are exactly the color of pecan shell, <br />but soft, and ashy at the elbows. <br />I like the way they tumble in the mirror <br />when she’s fixing my hair for braids. <br /><br />“Pokey,” she says, “gonna give you some <em>nice</em> braids today”, <br />and I think maybe today. <br />Maybe today,<br />maybe today, <br />but I open my eyes to the same scrappy rabbit-hair as always. <br /><br />The gumball barrettes clacking around her head <br />are what get me thinking that Natalie is too much for one body.<br />It’s her crammed in self that comes busting out <br />all wild like joy in her laugh and her voice <br />and her eyes that can’t nothin hide from,<br /><br />and her past is the only thing quiet about her.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.sallybacchetta.com/" target="_blank">Sally Bacchetta</a> 2004Sally Bacchettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14765341603688023981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11271668.post-1110248082481399162005-03-07T21:11:00.000-05:002005-04-16T12:54:16.586-04:00International Women's Day 2005International Women's Day is March 8th, 2005!<br /><br />This marks the 94th year that women all over our global community will celebrate the power of women to create change. Women, mobilizing and motivating each other, have accomplished things that none of us could do alone.<br /><br />When people say that women are competitive, I say that women make me elevate myself to a higher level than I might on my own.<br /><br />When people say that women are "pleasers", I say that women show me the power of being kind even when I don't feel like it.<br /><br />To women everywhere: Thank you for sharing your gifts. Thank you for reaching out. Thank you for noticing, for asking, for listening, for doing, for accepting, and for expecting more. I admire your resolve, your insight, and your ability to find a way.<br /><br />I think Maya Angelou said it best:<br />"Now you understand<br />Just why my head's not bowed.<br />I don't have to shout or jump about<br />Or have to talk real loud.<br />When you see me passing<br />It ought to make you proud.<br />I say,<br />It's in the click of my heels,<br />The bend of my hair,<br />The palm of my hand,<br />The need for my care.<br />'Cause I'm a woman<br />Phenomenally.<br />Phenomenal woman.<br />That's me."<br /><br />Happy International Women's Day. Thank you for making me who I am!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.sallybacchetta.com/" target="_blank">Sally Bacchetta</a>Sally Bacchettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14765341603688023981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11271668.post-1110133469793951762005-03-06T13:23:00.000-05:002005-03-06T13:24:29.796-05:00Welcome!Welcome to my new poetry blog. Check back soon for poetry and reflections on a poet's life.Sally Bacchettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14765341603688023981noreply@blogger.com0