Poems by Mary Schroth

Art by Patrick Driscoll

Number Nine

This hand is quite gifted
in writing about
the slutty letter
that falls between
“H” and J.”
Surely the other vowels
sit back and glare at her,
throwing crude remarks
back and forth about her
as if she were nothing more
than a stitched leather ball.
Flowing forth from my pen,
day and night, day and night,
she stands in the spotlight
and commands the crowd.
Source of envy she may be,
there is never a moment of rest.
She tires of being used and worn,
but still holds her brilliant head up high,
forever calling out into the sky,
“I, I, I.”


Little Fish

Swim little fish, swim,
round and round,
in your transparent prison,
silently gliding about
a violently unchanging world.

Do you cry, little fish?
Invisible tears, unnoticed—
You thrive in their likeness.
Weeping, weeping, on and on,
submerged by sorrows.

Little fish, my poor friend,
here you shall remain forevermore,
companionless, without a sound,
trapped by glass that forces you
to move about the very water
that poured from you.


Searching for Daisies

I am trying to collect
good feelings.
I will build a repertoire
of small, simple pleasures,
previously overlooked
by my clouded, unseeing eyes.
They come to me
in unexpected hiding spots,
at fate’s drawing of times.
This is a journey.
The stars are amused
by my pursuits,
humoring my quest
with spontaneous bursts
of good fortune,
or in guiding me to notice
the humble, silent beauty
of an ethereal world.
I capture daisies
with the hope that they might
teach my fervent soul to bloom.




  1. Thank you so much for publishing the poems of Mary Schroth and the other student poets you have supported. I know of Mary Schroth but have never had the pleasure of meeting her. However, reading her poems have provided me insight into her mind, heart and soul. I look forward to reading more poetry from mary and the others. Thanks gain.

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