Melinda Coppola

twenty four may | from the inside out

Melinda Coppola

twenty four may | from the inside out

About My Blog

I started this blog to quiet the voices in my head and heart that have been whispering and cajoling and sometimes yelling at me to write more.

This is a space where all the parts of me—mother, poet, wife, lover of beach stones and furry creatures and frequent toe-dipper in the river of song, Yoga practitioner, and teacher and she-who-cooks and she-who-makes-art and she-who-loves-silence, where all the parts of me can come out to play.

I started this blog to keep myself engaged in dialogue with my soul. If what I write interests you, educates you, moves you, …well, that’s a beautiful bonus.

Most Recent Blog Post

Ode to a Vessel

Dear Useful Thing


You are more
than receptacle,
a pleasing weight
in my cupped hands.

You’re the one I reach for,
mornings when I stumble
into kitchen, into waking,
into day,

and if I haven’t said it aloud—
I love the way you receive,
whatever I pour,
be it lukewarm or scalding,
and the plop of papery bag,
a little milk,
fine white stevia,
on occasion
a drizzle of golden honey.

You are gateway to the dawn,
invitation to sit,
come fully into my body,
peruse the morning’s offerings

of poems, news, salutations arriving
in the little box of phone
I also hold
(I’d like to say briefly,
but it does bring poems, after all).

Sometimes, you are the sweet bearer
of afternoon contemplations,
my cupped hands
holding your warmth
tenderly, as I would a child.

My dear, most useful one
you are also beautiful,
and yes, you spark delight,
appreciation, contentment.

I have wrapped and carried you
from one home to another,
finding the right shelf
to shelter you in comfort.

I thank the gods of pottery,
artisans, designers of mugs
and other lovely weighty hunks
of service and possibility,

Whoever brought this ware forth
from vision into the physical world,
to find a home
in my grateful hands.


–Melinda Coppola

Read More Blog Posts


The ground seems foreign, new roots and stones anchored in the middle of familiar paths, and my feet stumble more, much more. Are you stumbling too? Such heavy air, a downward press on the shoulders makes it hard to look up, check out the sky. I can’t speak for you,

Read More »

When the Beginning is also the Ending

I haven’t done a lot with poetic forms. Something inside of me chafes at the notion of trying to fit the body of a poem, beating heart and all, into a prescribed number of lines or a particular shape or meter. I did enjoy this exploration of palindrome verse, though,

Read More »


Medicament This morning’s waking, tight and tender to the touch, felt like neck ache, and all along the spine of this day my heart climbed and slid, ridge-riding the grief and uncertainty of these past months, pushing up towards bone-like pinnacles, vertebraic protrusions of more bad news— illness and violence,

Read More »

Gifts and Visitations

It’s been just over a month since my dear friend and soul sister Marina died, after a quick and nasty tussle with appendiceal cancer. She visits my consciousness daily, in ways both fleeting and substantial. We talked a lot about the afterlife in her last months. She told me clearly

Read More »


As I write this, my dear friend Marina lies dying in a lovely room inside the oldest house in an historic and pretty New Hampshire town. A wonderful woman who worked with her in the local general store has taken her into her home. Hospice has set her up well

Read More »

Little Big Thing

“Stay in awe of life. The little things are the big things. “ ― Richie Norton “I’m cold.” Bink had just gotten up, a good hour later than she used to get up on any given pre-Covid Monday. My eyes scanned her body, noting the hybrid pajamas I’d hastily grabbed

Read More »

Time, Place, Classroom

WHEN The world gets so noisy. Too many voices straining, pushing past their natural limits to be heard. Our small ears can’t discern provenance or factuality. Reactions quicken, turning knee-jerk, protective. WHERE There is the place where trees thicken into extended families, root systems entwined beneath the earth. Look for

Read More »

Collateral Sorrow

It’s been a time of times, a steady landslide of uncertainties. Yes, the Covid, the shutdown. Yes, Bink and so many other adults with disabilities being home all day every day for many weeks, with all the usual programs and activities canceled. Yes, the mass suffering and loss that has

Read More »

When all this is over…

WHEN THIS IS OVER Bring bread, chewy and warm, wrapped in that red checkered tablecloth that always sings picnic, which is short for happy family, easy friendships, peace and plenty in our town state country planet. We never went on one, a picnic, not once in all our together years

Read More »