https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/section-48-green-tea These poems, eventually, will form a novel-length story about a small family somewhere dealing with the beginnings, endings and middles of life. en 2005-2012 shakespearesmonekys@gmail.com 42.65593 -71.33391 Mon, 08 Jun 2026 19:44:11 GMT yacs http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss 70 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12964-red https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12964-red too weak to stand grandfather gazes through the dirty glass of the window at the sugar-water feeder where the hummingbird hovers the beauty is overwhelming and every second jots itself into his mind like a love letter the flash of red as the little bird disappears reminds him of his beloved her lips were so red as that years ago, before she fell asleep. Stephan Anstey Black bear Thu, 12 Jan 2012 20:51:53 GMT /section-421-black-bear#comments 5 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12964 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/12964 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A12964 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12966-scared-and-hungry https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12966-scared-and-hungry  "Grandfather, I heard a bear last night, outside my window I was scared." "It's ok to be scared boy, it's ok, but the bear's scared too winter's coming and he doesn't have enough food." "Should I leave him some?" The grandfather's laugh turned into a hacking cough filled with the word, "No...nononnono" When he settled into his chair, "No boy, that'd be a bad bad... bad idea." "Why?" "Someday you'll leave here and who will feed him then?" The boy nodded,  "I'm still scared." A sad smile crept over the old man's gaunt face, "Me too. Me too." ... more Stephan Anstey Black bear Sat, 31 Dec 2011 05:46:31 GMT /section-421-black-bear#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12966 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/12966 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A12966 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12974-waiting-for-the-timer https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12974-waiting-for-the-timer  Mother made cookies  as the old man and the boy laughed at the way the bugs all dance on the glassy smooth of the water after sunset.  She laid them out on a rack to cool enough to eat and waited to call them in. She basked for a moment in the scent of warm sugar  then put on the kettle. She could hear the boys talking about rhythm and the music of life all around them.  She hoped the boy would remember  this night, when life grows more complicated. Stephan Anstey Woodpecker Sat, 08 Oct 2011 05:51:30 GMT /section-419-woodpecker#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12974 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/12974 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A12974 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12965-holding-on https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12965-holding-on  Mother eases up behind father both her arms rising under his she lifts herself just a little to the back of his neck starts to kiss him as they watch the boy and the grandfather  sleep with their heads tight together lost in a conversation of snores. Stephan Anstey Woodpecker Sat, 08 Oct 2011 05:03:04 GMT /section-419-woodpecker#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12965 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/12965 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A12965 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12963-the-trail-of-moonlight https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12963-the-trail-of-moonlight  mother stands at the end of the dock in a blue silk nightgown wishing the moon were bigger than her thumb she doesn't dare count the stars they are more holy in the mystery she strips naked and dives into the black cold lake. if it happened, it was not real because only she knew this moment. Stephan Anstey White Tailed Deer Sat, 08 Oct 2011 04:57:32 GMT /section-420-white-tailed-deer#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12963 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/12963 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A12963 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-9699-v.-grandson-wading-for-icy-sunlight https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-9699-v.-grandson-wading-for-icy-sunlight draft anstey Playing by the Water Mon, 29 Nov 2010 20:38:22 GMT /section-424-playing-by-the-water#comments 2 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/9699 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/9699 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A9699 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-9681-iv.-mother-stairs-stones https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-9681-iv.-mother-stairs-stones footsteps on the water's edge brown hair & melancholy thoughts on her nose she follows the voices stops, "Grandfather, it is very cold. Why are you putting your feet in the icy water?" laughter, like late morning   anstey Playing by the Water Mon, 29 Nov 2010 19:55:12 GMT /section-424-playing-by-the-water#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/9681 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/9681 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A9681 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-84-iii.-father-son-rise https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-84-iii.-father-son-rise at six thirty this morning as the March sun rose over brittle ice on the frozen New Hampshire lake the boy was sitting on the cracked granite slab a foot from the shore with his tiny hands in the pool of water where he'd tap-cracked the glassy ice to reveal a sunfish. I watched in silence as his face washed with anguish at the tiny corpse of a field mouse frozen in the snow beside him. He didn't see the deer forty feet away looking at him curiously as he sighed. anstey Tasting Peace Sat, 01 Nov 2008 19:24:40 GMT /section-58-tasting-peace#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/84 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/84 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A84 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-86-iv.-mother-making-tea https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-86-iv.-mother-making-tea More going on here than the immediately obvious anstey Tasting Peace Sat, 01 Nov 2008 19:24:40 GMT /section-58-tasting-peace#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/86 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/86 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A86 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-8097-bed-side-on-the-last-day https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-8097-bed-side-on-the-last-day draft 1 anstey Black bear Sat, 01 Nov 2008 19:24:40 GMT /section-421-black-bear#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/8097 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/8097 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A8097 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-5251-i.-father-embrace https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-5251-i.-father-embrace his hair is whiter but his eyes much brighter so wise here on the edge of death a wedge removed his breath shallow arms entwined his hallowed love still mine. anstey Open Door Sat, 01 Nov 2008 19:24:40 GMT /section-422-open-door#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/5251 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/5251 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A5251 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-87-i.-grandfather-arriving https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-87-i.-grandfather-arriving Wheezing on the train to his son's house he watches sunrise from a dirty window along a river an angler casts in hip boots and heavy navy coat the conductor yells, "Rochester!" His brittle bones don't yet buckle only shudder as he tries to catch his breath ready his single, half-full and beaten brown leather bag and try to remain calm. Surprises are nothing like the sun. anstey Tasting Peace Sat, 01 Nov 2008 19:24:40 GMT /section-58-tasting-peace#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/87 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/87 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A87 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-5252-ii.-son-celebration https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-5252-ii.-son-celebration "Grandfather! Father! I found a dead mouse in the snow by the lake," his small frame wriggling between the two men embracing.     anstey Open Door Sat, 01 Nov 2008 19:24:40 GMT /section-422-open-door#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/5252 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/5252 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A5252 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-85-ii.-son-discovery https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-85-ii.-son-discovery father watched from the window in a green robe as I tapped through the ice to see the fish more closely he sipped black coffee from a dark blue cup and wandered off in thought as the first rays of sunlight painted the ice orange it was right then that I noticed the body of a tiny gray mouse frozen in the snow. anstey Tasting Peace Sat, 01 Nov 2008 19:24:40 GMT /section-58-tasting-peace#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/85 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/85 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A85 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-9680-iii.-father-sparkle https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-9680-iii.-father-sparkle this sunlight is only a memory of a distant yellow star reflected on the cold water she is delicate, and she knows but she does not know. Death is gentle. he is close, and together they all wait alone to forget tomorrow. anstey Playing by the Water Sat, 01 Nov 2008 19:24:40 GMT /section-424-playing-by-the-water#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/9680 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/9680 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A9680 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-5253-iii.-mother-serving https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-5253-iii.-mother-serving she gently guided them to the table where the hot oats steamed. The morning tea in blue mugs, the milk in a matching creamer and the fine white sugar sweet in it's blue blue home. Father in his chair, looking out over the lake And the son seated at the right hand of the father. All creation will be his one day. They bowed their heads to pray. anstey Open Door Sat, 01 Nov 2008 19:24:40 GMT /section-422-open-door#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/5253 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/5253 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A5253 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-5254-iv.-son-oatmeal https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-5254-iv.-son-oatmeal the key is that the oats have not become a pile of goo each oat must still exist. then, first the butter (no margerine) it will melt, then, the brown sugar it will melt, then the white sugar it will melt finally, the light cream and the milk swirl around the top golden butter floating upon that warm beige sea never stir, let it settle oats and boy must be at peace as the first taste violently explodes upon his young tongue. anstey Open Door Sat, 01 Nov 2008 19:24:40 GMT /section-422-open-door#comments 1 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/5254 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/5254 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A5254 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-5250-ix.-grandfather-knock-knock https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-5250-ix.-grandfather-knock-knock Ascending the stairs iambically first tap of cane, then thud of foot. He smiles, wishing for days of spondees. The sunlight a moment of joy painting cotton soft memories upon his wizened face . Disturbing his meter, the wooden stairs creak slightly beneath his leather shod feet the light by the door is still on and the sounds of morning bustle give a gentle cadance to the crisp air. Love, Love, Love and life, with death knocking on the door.     anstey Tasting Peace Sat, 01 Nov 2008 19:24:40 GMT /section-58-tasting-peace#comments 2 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/5250 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/5250 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A5250 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-83-part-1-field-mouse https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-83-part-1-field-mouse Whiskers, tail – beady black eyes Soft grey fur Far below the hawk But not out of eye-sight. The first snowflakes falling Then the second Third … Now mountains of snow, To every side. Sleep and food inches away When the feathers splayed slightly Twisted almost imperceptibly The end was quick The mistake unnoticeable Until the tiny corpse Fell a hundred feet. anstey Green Tea Sat, 01 Nov 2008 19:24:40 GMT /section-48-green-tea#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/83 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/83 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A83 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-91-v.-father-on-the-porch https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-91-v.-father-on-the-porch For the briefest moment, the deer and boy stood eye to eye No black bear nearby, no fish, Only boy and buck. When the deer retreated to the woods, The boy looked down into the snow The body of the tiny mouse slowly revealed By morning’s melt. What relationship the boy might see Between snow and deer, mouse and ice The father could not know. “It is time for breakfast he yelled,” And watched as the tiny face nodded Then lurched up the path toward the house. ... more anstey Tasting Peace Sat, 01 Nov 2008 19:24:40 GMT /section-58-tasting-peace#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/91 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/91 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A91