Cathy Cash Spellman

New York Times & International Best Selling Author

Poetry


Happy Father’s Day

Saturday, June 7th, 2014

There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think about and miss my father. Perhaps it was the kindness that was so much his hallmark… perhaps it was his endless patience and his willingness to drop whatever he was doing to listen, to care, to act. “Want to read me a book, Papa?” [ Read More ]

A Thought for the New Year

Tuesday, December 31st, 2013

I’d like to offer you a profound and provocative poem, with which to start this portentous New Year … this one is shaping up to be a year  of both spiritual and political drama far beyond the norm. The world is more volatile than ever now…as if there’s an energy explosion in progress, bubbling up [ Read More ]

Maybe This Says it Pretty Well

Friday, February 8th, 2013

People don’t look to the long-ago poetry of Edgar Guest for soaring metaphors or complex pentameter. He was often called the People’s Poet because of his commonsense-able thoughts about life, rendered in the form of simple verse that was full of homespun wisdom and spiritual decency. When I was writing  the What Would Jesus Do blog  I remembered this poem [ Read More ]

A Memorial Day Tribute

Friday, June 29th, 2012

I ran across this poem quite by accident and was so touched by it, I’d like to pass it on to you this Memorial Day. It reminded me of a family incident a few years ago, that showed me how easy it is to overlook the true heroes around us, or perhaps, simply not know [ Read More ]

Loving Love Poetry

Friday, January 13th, 2012

You can’t grow up to be a writer of love stories, if you aren’t an incurable romantic. Despite my own history of picking lemons in the Garden of Love – and oxytocin notwithstanding – I’ve found that I need to believe in true love.  I have seen it – not often – but enough to [ Read More ]

Were You Lucky Enough to Have Parents Who Read to You?

Saturday, December 4th, 2010

My parents read to me and to each other, a spectacular gift that rings in me still.  It was  poetry for the most part — and I loved it so much I never went to bed a night without memorizing a poem, or at least a group of verses.  If the poem was lengthy like [ Read More ]

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