Biography of Joyce Chelmo
I've been writing since I was a teen. However I have only been writing poetry about six years.
I was raised near Boundary Waters in Minnesota,
and some say I love trees more than people. I am also
a visual artist. My specialty is colored pencil on black paper. My subject is my first love landscapes,
gardens, the wilderness, old structures.
Joyce Chelmo's Works:
None yet but I have published some poems
Joyce Chelmo Poems
Can’t stop looking at your picture, hypnotized. Your beauty a blaze from within. The attraction would
Bridge Of Sighs
As a child I often found myself under the old iron bridge that crossed the Shagawa River, skipping flat stones
the first time we saw her was last fall she was standing in a patch of grass
I’d Make A Lousy Addict
i got carried away cleaning winter dust out of my front porch & threw my back out
Amidst the dull maize sunset and the chill of soon to come night. I wait for darkness to descend, a welcome friend. My muse rises from depths, a whisper
After a long day on the steering end of her old canoe, when the only light shimmering on the lake was the vanilla moon of late July.
Another Brief Chat In Pogo
One night while playing a game in pogo in a moment of weakness I actually chatted
He likes to reconstruct every poem he reads.... until it fits his style of rhyme and meter.
Memories of you enfold me through the chill of lonely nights. Every tiny bud has the right to bloom.
Garden Of Seiryoji
He walks reverent on stone paths in the Garden of Seiryoji where nature’s
With A Sunset
Leaning against the door frame holding myself, watching the coral sunset.
Couldn'T Save Her
There's a pain I live with that's gently wrapped itself around my heart woven into every fiber of my being.
She captures the eye of the dark horse. Something about the intensity in which they glare that hypnotizes her,
Daddy, Dance Me
Nearly reached your hand this time; I know if you’re there, it has to be a good place. If we’d touched,
In a place where pale pink
blossoms fall like rain.
Land softly on the heads
of quiet people.
Where Cherry Blossoms
each petal a bridge
between heaven and earth.
Where ancient stone bridges
cross ponds of Lotus flowers.
He teaches English there,
as he learns to quiet
his own spirit.