Jan Harper
author bio: Jan Harper
Enjoyment of the written word is a gift I've been granted all my life; to have others enjoy what I write is another, more surprising one.
When a poet's words are read, minds connect at an infinitely intimate level.
My writing has appeared in various print publications, from single pieces to arrangements of 10, plus in numerous spots across the web over the past 20 years.
I'm an ex-Brit living in America with my husband, mother-in-law, dog, cats and chickens, plus coyotes, rabbits, deer, possums and other wild critters; when I'm not writing poetry, I can be found with my hands in the dirt, planting and growing a kaleidoscope of produce, or making jams and good meals from the harvest. Painting, knitting, needlecraft and more all express my love of creating.
(photo taken with my phone of a little spot near Southend, England, where I once sat and ate burger and chips as I contemplated being a mermaid)
Poetrythe blind potter
clay sings to him guides his touch a shared pleasure as slick fingers coax a softly swollen curve a slender neck a shoulder, lip…
Poetryon a wheel and a prayer
before jesus was a twinkle in some god's eye a chinese man gave thanks to whomever invented the wheel meaning he could shift the…
Poetrybefore we reach our sunless seas
in life's rivers rounded stones shaped & smoothed by time & tides water glides past them over beds of gravel those further from the…
Poetry“best corn in the county!”
corn's happy hip-high in May unravelling cornucopia of broad, bright leaves in preparation for longer hotter days the swelling days the days of ombre…
Poetryun-christmassed
i've always managed to hang onto it that joy inherent in the season not solely for its christian notes (which i'll enjoy for what…
PoetryJanuary thinking
Custom's a deep pond flat reflective surface but deep in dark, wet infinity purpose sits a silty bed. To wash a loved one's limbs…
Poetrywhere do we start…
to make amends to the world, to voices in the wind denied by closed windows, to ghosts old and new that pick and fret…
Poetryblood on a wedding dress
they kept the dress in a locked trunk in the attic gathering dust for decades forgotten when they passed away—one following the other as…
Poetryfluid encryptions
he sits at his desk writing poems in his head stares out at the clouds attempts to decode Nature's own writ in dripping cyphers…
Poetryfree-range poets
roam the yards flock to the sound of an opening door hoping for scraps tossed our way tasty, random, diverse cluck and quibble scrabble…
Poetryheretical thoughts on a hot day
betrayed by flesh: blood beats tattoos against the underside of skin flushed in steady push to expand surface area on palms and soles, prime…
Poetrythe ringmaster never takes off his hat
too busy directing the marches he'll watch you fall smile as the nets fail the audience gasp and all that's left when the clowns…
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