Ode
The U.S. Open's 75th Anniversary for Alumna Althea Gibson
Where is Althea? Where is Althea?... Inside! Inside! Two Cups! Two Cups! Raise 'em high! Raise 'em high! Thank you for reading! Which part of the poem resonates with you? Share your thoughts. Please leave a comment. Copyright 2025 K.A. Smith
By K.A. Smith5 months ago in Poets
Confessions of a grieving disabled workaholic
My trip to San Francisco was supposed to be the greatest trip of my life. In some ways it was and in others it wasn’t. As I grow older, as my disability progresses and as my grief deepens, it sometimes feels like I’m constantly under attack. Like no place is safe for my body and no hands are safe for my heart. Grief is not something you overcome, it’s a tide you pray won’t crash onto you at the worst possible moment, and when it does, you learn to deal with it. Or at least I suppose, I’m not there yet.
By Allie Pauld5 months ago in Poets
Under The Sun With Grief.
When the sun is shining and there’s a smile on your face, the one you love is always there. Grief stands under the sun with you and enjoys the warmth, as if the bitterness it usually holds has melted away for just a little while. The smile on your face is a crutch for the grief, allowing the weight of it to disappear.
By April Kirby.5 months ago in Poets
