Tag: Tracy Miller

She speaks into a hand-held mike
And says the strangest things
Of plots and tropes and characters
And poetry that sings.

Her mind’s forever active
And her heart’s always replete.
She’s composing all the live-long day
Her demons to defeat.

She celebrates the lives, the art,
The love both here and gone;
The memories she yet holds close
Their might she pushes on.

She’s like a warm and searching poker
Stirring ashes ‘neath the grate
To find the embers burning there
And make them glow. But wait-

No, not a piece of iron
To grow cold when set aside.
But a lively torch that catches flame
To light the air on which it glides.

Like a Firefly she bops along
Brightening the dark,
Building fires or fanning flames, or
Nurturing a spark.

That well sprung magic of her own …
Oh! Such poetry transports.
To be precious, mentioned, known so well ..
Or just to read these dear reports!

It’s not just about her poems though
That makes her heaven-sent.
The prose she writes in her reviews
Is truly incandescent.

To know that someone’s work reached out
And lit another fuse …
To share the secret, bounding joy
Of audience and muse!

When someone’s efforts speak to her
She tells it to the world
In such detail you’ve never read
Creation is unfurled.

Writing is her full-time gig
After decades of the law.
She made her precious dream come true.
Tracy Miller I applaud!

Tracy, Girl, I know that life
Has hurt along the way.
But know that I am grateful
You and Stacy have this day!