Do You Clogyrnach?

The sun’s asleep tucked in a cloud
The land — beneath the wintry shroud
On a dried out vine
Sits fiery sunshine —
A red cardinal proud.

This is one of my attempts at the form called clogyrnach.

Join the clogyrnach party over at Poetic Asides, it’s fun, and if your poem’s chosen — you’ll be published in Writer’s Digest! (Make sure to enter your poem by March 15.)


“Unlock your heart…”

Miracle on the 34th Street.png

“I feel no Christmas,” cried a little girl,
“I don’t feel any of the Christmas cheer…
The tree is up and lit, the garlands swirl,
And Rudolph leads his pack of swift reindeer,

But I feel nothing,” sobbing would not cease.
Old Santa hugged her, “Don’t be sad, my dear,
They are not always real -– the things one sees,
What’s real is hidden from the eye, but near.

So close your eyes, put on your largest grin,
Unlock your heart and let your Christmas in.”


Originally posted on in December 2013.

Image credit: “Miracle on 34th Street”

“Kill your darlings?..”

I wrote LIGHTNESS about six years–a long time–ago. Is it flawed? Absolutely. Does it have cliches? You bet. Why hang on to it? For all its flaws and cliches, when I reread it now, it doesn’t make me wish the earth could swallow me up.

Instead of “killing my darling” I’m publishing it on Wattpad. Why Wattpad? And why not?

Six images that combine Chandra data with those from other telescopes.

This will be a twelve-part story. The first part went up yesterday. Be on the lookout for the second part tomorrow. The rest of LIGHTNESS will be published on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays — through January 2nd, 2017.

Submitted for your approval.


December Landays

“It (a landay) must take on one of five subjects: meena, love; jang, war; watan, homeland; biltoon, separation; and, finally, gham, which means despair or grief.”Eliza Griswold.

December Landays

Do not play games with love — you won’t win:
Love is a cheat with a marked card always up its sleeve.

The era of mercy is delayed.
The mankind fails to learn, and the bell still tolls, tolls, tolls…

Across the ocean there stands a tree
that prays for me — a leaf torn off its branch is my soul.

For what is space if we can face time,
and talk, and smile, and laugh, and lean in, and touch the screen?

There is a different kind of blue:
deeper, and broken — a shard of the yesterday skies.

©Sasha A. Palmer 2016


This December try your hand at Landays.


“tween the land and the skies”


Copyright 2016 Sasha A. Palmer

‘twas a million places
a million cries
and a million winters
in some ex-ballerina’s
apartment with eyes
in a city bewildered
by snow

‘twas the time that was perched
tween the land and the skies
in a basket of wonder
and willow
tween the yesterday’s hurts
and tomorrow’s goodbyes
rose petals of dawn
on the pillow

‘twas the world that was simple
it spelled you and I
in the hand of a happy
we would dance on the ceiling
(I don’t recall why)
and upset so the ex-

when we left in a hurry
forgetting to pack
our mem’ries
she roused her ire
she arranged our wings
in a neat sky-high stack
and set them on fire


©2013 Sasha A. Palmer (aka The Happy Amateur)

Written back in February 2013 in response to Poetics: Leonard Cohen and Place.