a warning


a warning devon fitzgerald ralston

Beneath the leaves, scattered like forgotten paper decay grows in silence, twisting away at strength knotted, ingrained, until the heartwood weakens

and becomes something else, entirely.

a reminder. a metaphor. a photograph. a poem.

a ghost.

No longer an escape route, a way for me to get from here to there;

I stand at the edge, arms open, head to the sky;

I am still. I am never still.

As a girl, my mother called me her bee, and as I watch one go from flower to flower taking in what is offered, before moving to the next I understand why

someone once told me I was like a slow burning fire.

I want to be light and sweet, spinning in circles in fresh cut grass, making shapes out of clouds the way I was


I began rotting under foliage tethered to darkness and poison, splintering

becoming something else.

a ghost. a poet. a reminder.

a warrior.

a bridge not to be crossed.

waiting for you

It's April! (wait, how is it already April?) April means it's National Poetry Month. Any chance I get to experiment with, read and write poetry makes me happy. We'll be studying it in my freshman class this month along with working on creative assignments. And I'll be sharing some of my favorite poems and maybe some things I write in class. 

What I love about this Whitman line is that I think of poetry, of writing like it's always waiting for me. If I miss the opportunity in one space, I'll find another space, like the words, the sounds, the stuff I have to say waits. But at the same time, I can stare at blank pages for days; grind my teeth out of frustration and feel my head heavy with tension because I haven't written. 

I've been intermittent on the blog lately, tough to find mental space for everything. I have folders, scraps of paper, things I want to write and share and say. I'm starting with this.

Here are 2 found poems I wrote using features from USA Today. The first is my favorite, but the second is growing on me.

Like a Knife

by Devon Ralston

Carefully sharpening the tools of the trade:
the way you work,
your craft
resonates delicately.

The kitchen is quiet.

There's so much about a story,
THE story

your day looks borrowed.


The Idea Revolution

by Devon Ralston

to slip into my life
is to weigh in on 
a half-dozen forgotten wrongs,

limited power in divided hands.

Observers have a point:
the transaction of enthusiasm
is likely to win.
(A round of nods).

I grew up in Alabama,
emotionally connected,
putting it out there,

a dream state
of mind.