New Poems by Verandah Porche

Verandah pauses at a neighbor’s pond after a vigorous hike up Belden Hill.


Better to be giddy, take a stab
at the summit, than boot up
with flabby beauty
on the home hard drive…

We scale Belden again
with side-wind wind on slime-ice;
intermittent grit, our only grace.

Squint into this

The world hurts
as we watch
winter scare up
our sentence.

Monadnock, Graylock, Pisgah,
forest, hayfield, orchard:
forked, ancestral, squat.

How particularly Mayan
our mountains look this morning,
my companion sighs.

Out of the blue,
the borrowed dog says,
Sit for your treat!

and we chew.

verandah-belden hill bench.jpg

Verandah on the handmade bench at the top of Belden Hill, inscribing the guest book.


April 18, 2007

Time in the slog zone
scanning the war
with tears…

Skin is kind.
A furrow suits your face
If age folds it.

Rut fits tread.
Decode the trace:
Your name is mud.

Blood from a stone…
Dusk hits the spot.

Soft dates and
the palms that weighed them
roll in the marketplace.

The lovely blond…
was her fiancé.

Cinders letter the road.
You bend to read
What wind spews.

Spring rings true
as red hands
in the Green Zone.


To learn more about Verandah Porche and her work, read:

Verandah’s website

Vermont Arts Council website

Two more of her poems

And three more of her poems

“Telling Poets”

“Welcome to Total Loss Farm”

The first of her poems that I posted on this blog