Sheenagh Pugh's guest appearances

Sheenagh Pugh

Lucky Words

Rhythms

The Writing Guy

Robert Frost

Wendell Berry

Walt Whitman

Emily Dickinson

Billy Collins

Ralph Waldo Emerson

John Keats

Margaret Atwood

Mary Oliver

Gwendolyn Brooks

John Dryden

Michael Blumenthal

William Blake

Robert Browning

Christina Rossetti

OwlTail

Unmatched.  Watch on Youtube : www.youtube.com  ---   Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/daisy726/support

Unmatched. Watch on Youtube : <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC5FXjT2sR4aJc4Yho0FWCmA" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">www.youtube.com</a> --- Support this podcast: <a href="https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/daisy726/support" rel="payment nofollow" target="_blank">https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/daisy726/support</a>

After I Came Back From Iceland by Sheenagh Pugh

Not always bad.  Watch on Youtube : www.youtube.com  ---   Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/daisy726/support

Not always bad. Watch on Youtube : <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC5FXjT2sR4aJc4Yho0FWCmA" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">www.youtube.com</a> --- Support this podcast: <a href="https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/daisy726/support" rel="payment nofollow" target="_blank">https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/daisy726/support</a>

Sometimes by Sheenagh Pugh

The title alone of this poem captures my wobbly uncertainty about life as we await news of the fate of local girl Sarah Everard, who was abducted close to where I live. I pray for her safe return.

Episode 70, 'What if this road', by Sheenagh Pugh

I have inherited my sense of direction from my mother, who has learned that, when in doubt, she should go exactly the opposite of what feels like the right direction. I get lost all the time, and absolutely depend on the topo map app on my phone. I recorded this while trying to find my way to the right trail, which eventually required a little off-trail bushwhacking.  TEXT OF POEM "Sometimes"by Sheenagh Pugh Sometimes things don't go, after all,from bad to worse.  Some years, muscadelfaces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail,sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.   A people sometimes will step back from war;elect an honest man, decide they careenough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.Some men become what they were born for.   Sometimes our best efforts do not goamiss, sometimes we do as we meant to.The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrowthat seemed hard frozen:  may it happen for you.   Interesting side barPugh hates this poem. She said that "the poem just doesn't represent the kind of poet I want to be." So if anyone asks, it's anonymous. Go ahead and memorize it and forget her name: she won't mind.

I have inherited my sense of direction from my mother, who has learned that, when in doubt, she should go exactly the opposite of what feels like the right direction. I get lost all the time, and absolutely depend on the topo map app on my phone. I recorded this while trying to find my way to the right trail, which eventually required a little off-trail bushwhacking. <h3>TEXT OF POEM</h3> "Sometimes" by Sheenagh Pugh Sometimes things don't go, after all, from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail, sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well. A people sometimes will step back from war; elect an honest man, decide they care enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor. Some men become what they were born for. Sometimes our best efforts do not go amiss, sometimes we do as we meant to. The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow that seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you. Interesting side bar Pugh hates this poem. She said that "the poem just doesn't represent the kind of poet I want to be." So if anyone asks, it's anonymous. Go ahead and memorize it and forget her name: she won't mind.