H. Rand Swansey
Biography of H. Rand Swansey
Poetry has played an important role in my life since the age of five (forty-one years ago) , when I wrote my first poem:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Nothin' like having
A mom like you.
Hardly an epic, but it set a course.
I currently (2011) teach 3rd grade at a suburban Detroit public elementary school, where I work diligently to instill in my students an appreciation of the beauty of language and the benefits of writing various forms of poetry for both personal expression and enjoyment.
H. Rand Swansey's Works:
'combing woods on a winter day' was published in an anthology of poems.
H. Rand Swansey Poems
Fear is rain, a promise: of no uncovered inches, of smothered masses.
combing woods on a winter afternoon snow lies dense, bending boughs of spruce and fir and pine
Feathers the color of an azure sky, speckles spread across her wings, a crown atop her head,
Steam rises through a sidewalk grill, manifesting itself in the frigid winter air like a
You arrived like a cowlick an unruly shock of childhood rising petulantly, denying the comb, refusing to be tamed.
I Dream Of A Wood
I dream of a wood where the white birches grow, where my steps, as I wander, become shortened and slow;
At first, the telltale signs were few and inconsistent- a momentary shortness of breath; a dry, unproductive cough; quick, stabbing pains like split-second jolts of electricity- nothing to indicate the destruction developing inside his chest.
You arrived like a cowlick
an unruly shock of childhood rising petulantly,
denying the comb, refusing to be tamed.
With bold, convicted certitude,
you shuffled to the chair and
promptly you announced,
'I need the works! '
This would prove no easy charge.