The Veltin School For Girls

I’ve been going through my Grandmother Ethel’s scrapbook. My Grandmother attended The Veltin School in New York City. In the coming days I’m going to post some of her artwork and poetry. She lived her life in New York City, Rochester, NY, then Myrtle Beach, SC, for retirement. I was very close to my Grandmother (1907-2000). We were/are both poets and spiritual people. I’ve taught at a school serving girls for several years now, my Grandmother further connects me to that work and the historic mission of those institutions.

More about The Veltin School: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Veltin_School_for_Girls

Typewriter’s Last Words

Please don’t leave me now
that you’ve seen the future.

My ink is real and you can touch
my paper with your hand holding

words, the ones pressed by my metal.
Permanent black rune, my tattooed

sentences offer so much more than
the screen, where mistakes disappear.

Delete, delete, delete-so easy to
forget all the missteps and time taken

to roll sheet after sheet. But each
letter, each tap, was your imprinted

mind. Go to the computer, but this
crumpled beauty, you will never find.

Girl Reads Civil War Poem

This poem is called Maggots,
Samantha stands in front of the

classroom with a sly smile. Her
piece inspired by historic conflict,

skips Gettysburg, Antietam, and
all the words of war. No rebel yell,

or regiments, she leaves nurse
descriptions and widow tears for

other poems to divulge. Starts
at the end, she speaks her black

beginning, maggots chewing,
spewing flesh of men without faces,

corpses all in their places for the feast.
She maintains throughout, that nature

intended such death, that it was all
meant to be. Not for North or South,

but for the legless larva to probe
darkness, with their bloody glee.