Mari Wood

After experiencing some modest success with the publication of my poetry in my 20's, I walked away from writing for 20 years. This past year, my muse has begun whispering, chattering, then hollering in my ear and she will not let me be silent any longer. I'm enjoying the process and exploration of finding a new writing voice in my poems. Writing again feels like coming home.

“Sorry Epiphany”, “In the Paddy” and “Fear Souffle”

I’d like to say that the day I quit God
was like a knuckle-sandwich,
a lightening bolt, or a surprise
seizure that tore through my brain. I’d like
to say that the earth shook, shattered,
and birds screamed their shrill cries. I’d like
to say that hurricanes raised hell,
ice caps melted and died.

Mari Wood

After experiencing some modest success with the publication of my poetry in my 20's, I walked away from writing for 20 years. This past year, my muse has begun whispering, chattering, then hollering in my ear and she will not let me be silent any longer. I'm enjoying the process and exploration of finding a new writing voice in my poems. Writing again feels like coming home.

“Sorry Epiphany”, “In the Paddy” and “Fear Souffle”

I’d like to say that the day I quit God
was like a knuckle-sandwich,
a lightening bolt, or a surprise
seizure that tore through my brain. I’d like
to say that the earth shook, shattered,
and birds screamed their shrill cries. I’d like
to say that hurricanes raised hell,
ice caps melted and died.

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