About Me

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Nancy Simpson's LIVING ABOVE THE FROST LINE, New and Selected Poems was published by Carolina Wren Press (N.C. Laureate Series, 2010.) She is the author of ACROSS WATER and NIGHT STUDENT, State Street Press, still available on WWW at Alibris and Books Again. Her poems have been published in Southern Poetry Review, Prairie Schooner, The Georgia Review and other literary magazines. "Carolina Bluebirds" was published in THE POETS GUIDE TO THE BIRDS, Anhinga Press). "Grass" was reprinted in the 50th Anniversary Issue of Southern Poetry Review: DON'T LEAVE HUNGRY ( U.of Arkansas Press.) Seven poems were reprinted in the textbook, SOUTHERN APPALACHIAN POETRY,(McFarland.) Two poems were published in SOLO CAFE, Two more poems were published in SOLO NOVO."In the Nantahala Gorge" was published in Pisgah Review. "Studying Winter" was reprinted in Pirene's Fountain Anthology and "The Collection" in Collecting Life Anthology. Most recently, Southern Poetry Review Edited by James Smith, published "Our Great Depression," and The Southern Poetry Anthology Vol. VII: NORTH CAROLINA,Edited by William Wright, reprinted "Leaving in the Dead of Winter."

Sunday, November 14, 2010


Rosemary Royston lives in northeast Georgia.  Her work has been published or is forthcoming in The Comstock Review, Main Street Rag, Alehouse, Literal Latte, Public Republic, and Dark Sky Magazine. She is the recipient of the 2010 Literal Latte Food Verse Award, her chapbook was a finalist in the 2009 Jessie Bryce Niles chapbook contest, and she was the 2004 recipient of first and third place in poetry, Porter Fleming Literary Awards.  Rosemary holds an MFA in Writing from Spalding University and serves as Program Coordinator for NCWN-West.

As Poet of the Month here above the Frost Line,  Rosemary Royston has agreed to share some of her poems with us. If you enjoy them, and I am certain you will, please leave a comment.  More of her poems will be featured as the month of November moves forward.
We walk down by the water.
She needs no help identifying

tracks on the sand: dog, deer, horse.
Who is she, this young image of myself

the strong jaw, the Eastern European bones,
the girl whom I once carried in my body,

breech at 9 months, cut out of me on a cold March
morning.  I remember asking to see the placenta,

the life force, which had been plopped into a thin,
plastic bin.  It was liver-colored

with smooth edges.  Eleven years later is now.
We find a tiny springhead in the sand

and place our fingers in the center—
bottomless, yet full of life.

--Rosemary Royston

Dogwood Winter

Ants raid the bath, wasps claim the washroom,
even as the cool of winter looms.
The forsythia sings against a chorus
of green, yet the hue of winter looms.
The bunting’s a blur of vibrant blue,
off-setting winter’s gray loom.
Calves nurse in the open field, chilled
as the nip of winter looms.
Blood buds of azaleas burst forth
even though winter looms.
The creek hums a rain-filled song,
oblivious to the winter that looms.
Rosemary, thyme, and sage grow
in the sunroom, even as winter looms.

--Rosemary Royston
Previously published in 

Saturday at the Park

No vehicles, skateboards, or bicycles allowed.
-Sign on walking trail

Etched across the metal are angry scratches
over the word skateboard.
The cyclists don’t seem to care
that they cannot ride down the gray paved path,
but the skateboarders are pissed.
As if for concession a former tennis court
has been retrofitted with ramps and rails,
and the future Lords of Dogtown,
their boxers visible over the top
of their pencil-tight jeans, ride.
Their long hair is cut at odd angles
and dangles in their eyes.
The knees of their jeans are blown-out,
and one young man is bold enough to ask
Do you have a Band Aid? as if a band aid
would stop the bloody stream running
from his elbow south.  Instead, he wraps
a flannel shirt over his wound and wheels off,
the slap and scrape of wheels on concrete
making a music of their own—
testimony to tenacity.
No matter how many times they fall,
they get back up, determined to perfect
the kickturn, the Ollie, the 360.
So I don’t complain when they come whizzing
down the pedestrian path
because they are poets, poets of the park.

--Rosemary Royston


Brenda Kay Ledford said...

I enjoyed Rosemary's poetry very much. I congratulate her upon taking the post as NCWN-W coordinator. I'm sure she will do a wonderful job and I'm glad she stepped up to do take this position.

Anonymous said...

Nancy, I wanted to say that I have always liked Rosemary's work, and after reading these fine poems I have to say that I felt the deepest emotion on reading the first one, "Shore." It was done in such a way that I didn't know where it was taking me, until it stabbed me in the heart! I liked it so much! Glenda Barrett

Glenda said...

Rosemary's poetry appeals to many of us as she writes from her heart, letting everything flow on the page.
Thanks for sharing them here.

Nancy Simpson said...

Thank you for your comments Brenda Kay, Glenda Barrett and Glenda Beall. I appreciate your interest in
my blog more than you may realize. Thank you. My goal is to feature poems and essays by Southern and Appalachian writers. Your interest keeps me moving forward. I will keep my word. I'll post more of Rosemary's poems. Also be on the look out for Glenda's Blue Moon poem, for this is at the time of the Full Blue Moon.