top of page

Pics and Poems

 Portland, Oregon

(First published in NoVA Bards 2018)

City of Roses, how have you been

while I slept far away, forgetting

the touch of my homeland?

Misty rains adrift

on ocean-sweeping westerlies

descend to form your character - 

restore for me an echo of my youth

in cool clean air and rain-rich greenery;

in long June days - dew-daisies underfoot - 

and roses all summer.

No, I say - no to earthquakes; to volcanoes - 

you're no healing home for me, nor haven for my child.

Instead, a subterfuge

or shifting floor beneath a seasoned heart

whose bargains ever slide apart.

What solace now, those long-missed English daisies

that I delighted to discover

at my feet again

in your green gardens?

Nevermore beguile me - hopeless hope


childhood's tea and cakes.


                                  Anne Emerson, summer 2017;

               Revised 2020, 2023

1 1 16 1 4 DSC_0604 brtnd.jpg
1 1 16 1 1 DSC_2792 shdwd.jpg
1 1 16 1 2 DSC_2050 smfxd hzd.jpg
1 1 16 1 3  DSC_2059 smfxd City of Roses.jpg

 Light Comes In

(One Version Published in Poets Domain 2018)


Ocean Sunrise

Rosy horizon

heralds earth’s primeval light -

sleeping waves catch fire.


Walk on the Beach

Heavy coats; sun’s bright


on wave, gull, and scattered tracks -

signals we're at sea.


Bay Sunset

Cobalt, peach, light air


floats to sleep its chilly wavelets - 


 three hikers linger.


                                  Anne Emerson, May 2019;

                     revised 2020, 2023

Light Comes In DSC_6024 spthld  shdwd 2 cpyrtd rszd.jpg
Light Comes In DSC_5816 strtnd crpd  2 hzd cpyrtd rszd.jpg
Light Comes In DSC_5936 shdwd  phtshpdaerial strtnd brtnd cpyrtd  rszd.jpg
Home Again - Echo Lake cpyrtd rszd DSC_0269.jpg

Home Again

(Published in NoVA Bards, 2015)
Nominated for Pushcart Prize

With clear, dry air and dusky grass behind,

and mountain vistas in our senses yet,

we catch an airport taxi home to find

the work of life returns: vacation’s debt.


It settles down like dew, that humdrum mood—

mow lawn, make beds, get larder shelves restocked;

for no-one’s sharing home-made beer and food,

or places new adventures have unlocked.


They feel so close: a campus, floral walk;

Dushanbe tea, unruffled Echo Lake;

and friendships from our youth engaged with talk.

Another parting brings its belly-ache.


These scenes will soon be lost like wave-washed prints

whose contours smooth beneath the rippling tide.

Alone, my words and images give hints—

creations whose first urgency has died.


                                    Anne Emerson, February 2014


A Visit

Atlantic crossing – childhood home

town and country stay the same

red-brick buildings patchwork fields

tennis watching Wimbledon

extended family nurturing

with conversation, food of June

sweet English strawberries

new potatoes salmon, wine

careers advance children grow


hillside walks and verges wild

with elderflowers, cow parsley

foxgloves medley tangled grassland

public walks on farmers’ lands

they take for granted all of this


open studio cream for tea

paintings delicate and bright

I see a snippet of her life

which carries on apart from me


Losely House well-tended gardens

river strolling, fish and chips

Encaenia Keble Somerville

traditional but cutting-edge

my parents often need to rest


Minster Lovell Ringwood Farm

cottages with rose and thatch

Oxford-Macclesfield by train

stone walls hill views windy Teggs

he knows my past not my todays


birthday barbecue for all

animation everywhere

Queen Vic lunch

lavender fields climbing wall

goodbye again


                             Anne Emerson, 2009;                       revised Jan 2020

A Visit DSC_0040 smfxd cpyrtd rszd.jpg
A Visit DSC_0238 cpyrtd rszd.jpg
A Visit DSC_0293 crpd cstm cpyrtd rszd.jpg
A Visit DSC_0390 rtd use this cpyrtd rszd.jpg

The Gardener

“Does the gardener need some help?”

She has planted six tubs
with burgundy petunias, carmine fuschias;
golds, whites, and blues.

She has moved October’s pansies –
still living, can't toss –
and shade’s extra impatiens
to planters out back
under new-leaved trees.

Soft soil - gentle to hands;
plants in pots - pretty palettes;
but bending back - less sweet.

“Does the gardener need some help?"

“Yes, thank you – water and tidying - 
I have to ease my aching back.”
He trashes empty flats, small plastic pots;
composts weeds; unwinds a hose; sweeps;
sprays a deer-proof scent on plants
that have had a nibblers' haircut.

She muddies in her multi-colors,
sits on stoop, and feels a joy in work and rainbows.
Dragonflies flit by; a ruby-throat hovers
at Fothergilla catkins - so
a scarlet nectar-holder joins the flower-party.

Now, the yard is dressed.

                                                Anne Emerson, May 2017;

                                                revised 2023

The Gardener DSC_1566 brtnd shdwd rtd spthld cpyrtd rszd.jpg
The Gardener 2 DSC_1564 smfxd shdwd brtnd crpd cpyrtd rszd.jpg
bottom of page