Eloquence as Legacy
My mother Victoria took prolific notes. Her handwriting was an elegant cursive, quite different from my chicken scratch (that even I have difficulty deciphering sometimes). She penned lovely postcards during her travels. Clever greeting cards…
Still, After Years
This is the Love Poem, Mid-Life for Super Guy "Who, being loved, is poor?" --Oscar Wilde Remember the night I woke moaning, ankles on fire, some ghost gripping my arches, preventing even a twitch of…
MelindaFebruary 14, 2024
The Continuing Saga of Little Stream
A 2022 Story Part 11 You can read part 10 here: https://www.melindacoppola.com/little-stream-an…22-story-part-10 Part 11 “Lily Pond?” Little Stream called out again and again without answer into the bright air. Her voice was thin and…
MelindaFebruary 7, 2024
It Goes Like This
You smile down on me from a slightly precarious perch on the shelf above my messy desk. It’s my favorite photo of you—young and exuberantly happy, arms flung wide, dressed in colorful layers that reflect…
MelindaMarch 29, 2023
A 2022 Story
There was a little stream—more of a rivulet, really—that dribbled and dripped and murmured along through a swath of untamed land. Many moons and suns cast their light upon her waters as she found…
MelindaDecember 31, 2022
Why Poetry Matters
I’m so pleased to share that my poem “Nobody” was published in Thimble Literary Journal today. You can read it by clicking on this link: https://www.thimblelitmag.com/2022/08/09/nobody/ My writing process is anything but logical. Sometimes it…
MelindaSeptember 24, 2022