Very creepy vintage postcard poem

Belen sent me this very bizarre vintage postcard. Lovely image, but whoa, man, that poem! She commented on its strangeness, too. I wonder if these sentiments were common??

The poem reads

Mother cooking, no one looking,
Kiss her like a real man should.
Footsteps running, papa's coming,
Beat it while your shoes are good.

Ewww, creepfest!!

I feel like this should be some kind of PostSecret postcard.

Postal haiku

There is some excellent "postal haiku" on your postal blog. I highly recommend checking it out.

My favorite, by twitterer Postal_Poems:

why write a letter?
to savor pen on paper
life between the lines

Dylan Thomas: Clown in the Moon

This gorgeous, moving postcard came to me from the man behind my REAL wall. It just blew me away. What poignant imagery combined with an incredible poem.



Here's the text of the poem. I hope you can read it through the postmark.



That's the info - the voting is closed but it's still an interesting project at BBC Poetry Season. And you can read more poems there.

Touchingly, the writer said that the link to Anysoldier.com on this blog inspired him to go there and send a package.

A Penny Dreadful poem

My creative cousin gave me a doodle and an impromptu poem on the back of her new Penny Dreadful stationery. Tres cute!

Happy Independence Day, my fellow Americans! Enjoy your 4th.

Some day we will all be ghosts

While I greatly prefer letters and am not a big postcard sender, I do have a few postcards that I send every now and again. With a couple of correspondents, we have a habit of sending both letters and postcards, and that's kind of a fun string. This was a special postcard that I knew would wait and tell me when the time was right to send it, and to whom. It reads:

Some day we will all be ghosts.
Let's live now before we can't anymore.
Let's knit a scarf and eat strawberries.
Let's ride the bus and think of the beauty of the lonely.
Let's go now, before we are ghosts.

Envelope Poetry

I don't think I can even express in words what I thought when I pulled this out of my mailbox, but I will say that I couldn't even walk back to my car without stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, mouth agape in awe, to read the whole thing.

Wow.

Thank you so much, Scrybe!

I thought I wasn't a huge poetry fan, but this just blew me away -- even moreso because it was so beautifully written (in fountain pen, OF COURSE!) on the back of the large envelope.

AND she sent me paper and envelopes to try out, too.

I feel overwhelmingly rich and lucky. Poems in my mailbox from caring people -- that is wealth, richness of value.

See? I'm just kind of ruining it by babbling it. Just read the poem again.

Please Write: Don't Phone

I just came across this wonderful poem on LetterLover and had to share.

Please Write: Don’t Phone
By: Robert Watson

While there is mail there is hope.
After we have hung up I can’t recall
Your words, and your voice sounds strange
Whether from a distance, a bad cold, deceit
I don’t know. When you call I’m asleep
Or bathing or my mouth is full of toast

I can’t think of what to say.
“We have rain?” “We have snow?”

Let us write instead: surely our fingers spread out
With pen and paper touch more of mind’s flesh
Than the sound waves moving from throat to lips
To phone, through wire, to one ear.
I can touch the paper you touch.
I can see you undress in your calligraphy.
I can read you over and over.
I can read you day after day.
I can wait at the mailbox with my hair combed,
In my best suit.
I hang up. What did you say?
What did I say? Your phone call is gone.
I hold the envelope you addressed in my hand.
I hold the skin that covers you.