Tags » William Stafford

Gold to silver, doors to fences

My eighth grade year was the Bicentennial year, and to celebrate our class put on a play. Our ever-enthusiastic music teacher Mrs. Enright put together a musical revue of U.S. 468 more words

Poetry

Meanwhile, in the school hall...

Mr Shelley got to his feet to greet the next couple of parents who were slowly shuffling toward his table.

“Good evening.”  He flashed his teeth in a professional welcome.  684 more words

William Stafford

Nail Soup

Old Widow Scoggins heard a knock at her front door.  She forced herself out of her armchair and, leaning over her walking stick, padded across the threadbare carpet, wincing as her joints twinged in protest.  655 more words

William Stafford

Not All Bears

Horace brought his toast with marmalade and his mug of tea into the living room.  He lowered his considerable backside onto the dilapidated sofa and then scanned the vicinity for the TV remote. 439 more words

William Stafford

Meanwhile, in the stables...

“Joss?” Padraig loomed in the stable doorway.  “What do you think you’re doing at this time of night?”

In the stall, the boy Joss merely sneered. 701 more words

William Stafford

An equal opportunities abduction

Hansel heard the music.  It was like someone whispering his name, someone in the distance, someone he couldn’t see.  He lifted himself from his bed, planting his crutch under his arm and lurched over to the bedroom window.  938 more words

William Stafford

poem for the road: The Way It Is

There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.

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Poetry