Everyday poetry; ‘open mic’ nights

CELEBRATING THE ARTS

My mom's poetry spanned a lifetime, most of it between the years 1943 and 1999. Yet it didn't chronicle a single historical earth-shattering event, and there were many -- the Depression, four wars, the atomic bomb, the 60's revolution, the Moon landing, the Civil Rights Movement, the tearing down of the Berlin Wall, economic globalization, and on and on it goes.

Instead, she chose to remember the “every-days” that make up one's life.

Lisa Christmas has now come and gone We didn't get together. Blame it on our 'busy-ness', Blame it on the weather.

If you had come at one or two, I would have cut a rose for you And made a pot of hot spiced tea, And served you slices, two or three, Of rum cake someone made for me.

Then after tea you'd rush away, Your ribbons left behind you I would have made you take the rose (in January, mind you).

Oh well! You couldn't come.

I guess we'll have to wait For other times And other teas And festive little cakes.

But here's the rose, I dried it For some wintry afternoon When you might have a cup of tea, And wish to be alone To think of things that we might say When we have tea another day.

Vilma Dulany (July 16, 1929 -- June 30, 2025) Calling all Hill Country poets to join The Hill Country Poets on “Second Thursdays Open Mic,” from 6-8 p.m. at the Boerne Bookstore and The Bakhaus breezeway to read your own — and listen to others — new poetry.