- Lyde Longaker
“Green Blades”
A poem by Lyde Longaker.
Words spring up
Like neon spikes
From fallow fields
Of endless rows that
Speak unheard
Who ploughed?
Who planted?
Who tended?
Who said reap?
When wind whispers
What do you hear?
Hear in the loft
Where baled harvests rest
There is more
Give voice to the fallow fields
Glean new verses
For the servant’s song is one of joy and faith
Lyde Longaker writes to live. She was born at home in Edgeworth, marauded Sewickley's Isaly’s ice cream parlor, was held captive in boarding school, and set free by Carnegie Tech (now Mellon). She now lives in Ashland, VA. She raised kids, stayed sane in theatre design, taught art, made pots, and now, thanks to The Pittsburgher, at age 89 she is a published poet.