news and notes
A foggy day at my favorite bit of rocky shore, way Down East, somewhere between Boston MA and Halifax NS. This is the seascape that features in so many of my poems. — peregrine
2025.06.22 new and forthcoming poetry from rocky shore press
A new collection of poems by peregrine will be available in the Summer of 2025. Sing to me, O world! is the fifth volume of peregrine’s Spelling Bee-related poetry.
This new book gathers more than 160 poems composed between September 2024 and May 2025, including 24 new sonnets, 17 new poems in the “Bartlett Bay” series, and 15 new poems that were never posted to the Spelling Bee forum and that now make their début. Sing to me, O world should be available in July.
Several special collections of peregrine’s poetry are also in preparation, including poems “from the rocky shore,” the Bartlett Bay story-poems; a photo book with poems from my 2024 sojourn at the edge of a lovely meadow; an anthology of sonnets; poems about birds; and a retrospective collection of poetry Sing to me, O World! joins four earlier books in the series of peregrine’s Bee-related poetry: Bee-songs and essays The pollen of new poems is dusted everywhere Portals A gull came winging
All the books are available through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and dozens of independent booksellers, as listed on the page for each book at www.rockyshorepress.com.
Several special collections of peregrine’s poetry are also in preparation, including poems “from the rocky shore,” the Bartlett Bay story-poems; a photo book with poems from my 2024 sojourn at the edge of a lovely meadow; an anthology of sonnets; poems about birds; and a retrospective collection of poetry Sing to me, O World! joins four earlier books in the series of peregrine’s Bee-related poetry: Bee-songs and essays The pollen of new poems is dusted everywhere Portals A gull came winging
All the books are available through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and dozens of independent booksellers, as listed on the page for each book at www.rockyshorepress.com.
Mittens (the intent of love)
from Sing to me, O world!
My mother made these mittens for me, years ago.I was about nineteen, already off at school,far too sophisticated for handmade woolly mittens.(I was a grown-up; I wore gloves to match my boots.)I felt the intent of love in every stitch,but I set them aside, to have but not to wear.
I liked to take them out to look at them:Soft wool, that minty green she knew I liked;embroidered on the backs in pink and white,a flower or two, with tiny dark-rose buds,dark green yarn for the leaves and stem.A useful item, touched with femininity.
She’d always seemed to my childish eyespractical, capable, loving, and very wise,managing the teeming complex chaosof too many kids, old house, tough times.In those mittens, though, was artistry,a part of her I’d never really known.
I liked to take them out to look at them:Soft wool, that minty green she knew I liked;embroidered on the backs in pink and white,a flower or two, with tiny dark-rose buds,dark green yarn for the leaves and stem.A useful item, touched with femininity.
She’d always seemed to my childish eyespractical, capable, loving, and very wise,managing the teeming complex chaosof too many kids, old house, tough times.In those mittens, though, was artistry,a part of her I’d never really known.
She’d left to me a box of papers. I foundpoetry, essays, sketches from her hand;articles clipped from long-gone magazineson art, history, language, music, dance,from her teens, and from when she wasfifty, sixty, ninety years and more.
In her reading, in her hesitant writing,she longed for that richer life in art;it must have seemed an infinity,beyond her reach, always set aside,deferred to the imminent demandsof the teeming complex chaos at home.
In those mittens, in her faded letters,is her artistry, her lyric voice,imagination that soared beyond the farm,meted out in practicalitieslike mint-green woolly mittens. I wear them now,touch my face, feel her hands in mine.
In her reading, in her hesitant writing,she longed for that richer life in art;it must have seemed an infinity,beyond her reach, always set aside,deferred to the imminent demandsof the teeming complex chaos at home.
In those mittens, in her faded letters,is her artistry, her lyric voice,imagination that soared beyond the farm,meted out in practicalitieslike mint-green woolly mittens. I wear them now,touch my face, feel her hands in mine.
Spelling Bee words Jan 6 2025: femininity fifty infinity intent item mete mint minty mitten nineteen ninety teem teen time tiny
The very pair of mittens is shown at left.
2025.02.17 A poem from Portals
From time to time I'll share poems from my published collections, along with photos of what inspired me to write, or photos from my sojourns that illustrate the poem.
From the keep (A sonnet from within)
On finding that I could not bear my grief,I built an edifice of fine-grained stonewhere I might set my sorrow down, alone,confined, immured, to find some small relief.I fenced its court to keep foul fiends away;confided to the walls my deepest fears;defined defenses to defy the years,aligned them outward in a dense array.This fended place of utter quietudeis the only fief I claim by rights:Thus defended, I pass the silent nightsin confidence of stone-bound solitude. Sorrows are best shut away, confined in the stone keep of my grieving mind.
Spelling Bee words of Feb 06 2024:confided confidence confined defend defended defied defined edifice fenced fended fief fiend find fineThere are castle-like fortifications to be found in many an inner landscape. Here is one.
2024.12.10 A poem from A gull came winging
From time to time I'll share poems from my published collections, along with photos of what inspired me to write, or photos from my sojourns that illustrate the poem.
This photo of a honeybee about to enter a beach rose was taken a few years ago at the edge of my favorite bit of rocky shore.
Apian architecture (A sonnet of seeing)
Each honeybee has its favorite plat:A patch of clover, a vine of cottage rose,a magnolia grove with palatial blooms,sea-plantains on the ocean’s edge.Where lovely form and fragrance draw us in,the palps of bees respond to unseen signspainted darkly on the pliant petals,encoded in the very light of day.How much exists that we cannot see!Our inapt eyes are made for grosser things:The pintail’s elegance, the golden plains,the patina of moonlight on the sea. How I long for deeper, bee-like vision that I might find at last my heart’s desire.
This poem was composed with Spelling Bee words of May 15 2024: apian inapt paint palatial palp patina pintail plain plant plat pliant
Most flowers have colors and patterns visible only in the ultraviolet spectrum that guide bees to pollen and nectar. One might consider these guiding structures (invisible to the human eye) to be elements of “apian architecture.”
A plat is a small piece of ground; a plot. The palp, or palpus, is the mouth parts of an arthropod. In honey bees, palps are used to feel and taste during feeding. "Gross" us used here in the sense of consisting of material or perceptible elements. The pintail is the Northern Pintail, an exceedingly elegant North American duck.
A plat is a small piece of ground; a plot. The palp, or palpus, is the mouth parts of an arthropod. In honey bees, palps are used to feel and taste during feeding. "Gross" us used here in the sense of consisting of material or perceptible elements. The pintail is the Northern Pintail, an exceedingly elegant North American duck.
2024.11.22 A gull came winging is now available
A gull came winging, the fourth book in our series of poetry inspired by words from the New York Times Spelling Bee, has been published by Rocky Shore Press and is now available for purchase. This volume offers 100 new poems that explore our relationship with the natural world, as well as meditations on memory, solitude, and love. A gull came winging includes seventeen new sonnets, along with several new poems in the Bartlett Bay series and some thirty poems not previously posted to the Spelling Bee forum.
A new poem from this book, “They are content to lie among the stars," is shown at right.
Information on where A gull came winging may be purchased may be found HERE.
A gull came winging | poems by peregrine198 pages, softcover, 6x9 (15x23 cm), 198 pages, November 2024ISBN 979-8-34-766725-3 9798347667253
They are content to lie among the stars
It seems impossible to measure timefrom the beginning, or very nearly so;yet the moon does this without moan,measuring out the months and yearsin mild motion, in silver simplicity.Earth and moon maintain cool amityin their stately dance through time and space;Even after several billion yearsand an infinitude of revolutions,with as many more still to come,they know nothing of monotonynor mania for any change of scene.This measured movement is their anatomy,their flesh and blood and bone and very breath,the total of their existence in the world.They are content to lie among the starsbeing neither minion nor rough master,in silent cosmic anonymity.
Spelling Bee words of Jun 22 2024: amity anatomy anonymity maintain mania many minion moan monotony moon motion This poem was not posted to the Spelling Bee forum.
Spelling Bee words of Jun 22 2024: amity anatomy anonymity maintain mania many minion moan monotony moon motion This poem was not posted to the Spelling Bee forum.