2026 Poetry Walk
2026 Poetry Walk: April 1–30
Celebrate National Poetry Month with us during our fifth annual Poetry Walk! Stroll along the library’s boardwalk and immerse yourself in the beauty of the written word, featuring poems for all ages written by our very own community members. Be sure to stop inside the library to check out our poetry books and displays.
2025 Poetry Walk: Featured Poems
2024 Poetry Walk: Featured Poems
Featured Poems
Butterfly
By Hayley Jurewicz (age 7)
Dearest Summer
By Corinne McCleish
Egyptian Dream
By Ellie James
Finding Joy w/o Luna
By Dolores Soverino
How Smart Is Your Phone?
By Diane Shaar
Loneliness
By Cathi Kadow
Mirror Ball Moments…..
By Elaine Gotfryd Noonan, Power Poet
Of the everything
By Tim McElligott
Prayer for the Other One
By Mikel James
The Hungering Haze
By Andrew Welch
The Lid
By Celeste M Nelson
The Next Upheaval
By Sam Calvert
The Silence
By Cheryl Host
Ticket to Italy
By Connie Pavur
To My Surprise
By Sue Thatcher
Write Now
By Patrick J. Byrne
Riddle, or Fifth Grade Lesson on Alliteration
By Megan Jurewicz
The Junk Drawer
By Barbara Jo Ostroski
The Bells of St. Denis
By Kevin O’Connor
Excerpt from: Nary A Picture In Sight At All Through The House
By Gene Gryniewicz
Butterfly
By Hayley Jurewicz (age 7)
I am seeing something,
a star floating in my eye.
I’m seeing smiles everywhere
I am dancing with my
arms. I am a butterfly.
I smile when I fly
everyone waves goodbye
when I start to fly
goodbye butterfly.
Dearest Summer
By Corinne McCleish
Sadness arrives when I sense your end
The warm rays were a welcomed friend
To all you gave, I will rave
You added bronze to my skin and new thoughts to ponder within
The green woods, vibrant flowers, puffy clouds stacked into towers
The beauty of the full moon
The locusts singing a mighty tune
Clear and darkness in the sky at night
Thunderstorms that caused a fright
Fresh lines on the lawn
Pink and orange backdrops at dawn
Adding heat to the seas and giving pollen to the bees
I will miss such long days under your hypnotic haze
I am grieving when I feel you are leaving
The nights begin to turn colder
When we meet again I will be a year older
Please come back again just the same
The joy you bring I await to claim
Egyptian Dream
By Ellie James
I’d like to sail on a ship
And find myself in Egypt
To travel through the ruins past
The lands of mystery and pyramids vast
Rameses at my command
And archeology in the sand
To see the Sphinx in safe keeping
With Anthony and Cleopatra eternally sleeping
Hieroglyphics dance their way
Around the statues everyday
I’d like to sail on a ship
And find myself in Egypt
Finding Joy w/o Luna
By Dolores Soverino
Finding joy without you
Has been no easy task
A daily chore to find peace of mind
Our hearts have yet to grasp
Seems like only yesterday
It’s been months since you’ve been gone
So much love and happiness
Feelings of loss are forlorn
God graced us with your love
So grateful for the joy
Our memories sustain us
Can never be destroyed
We see you in the clouds
Or when butterflies appear
Rest in peace our sweet girl
We know that you are near
Created by: Dolores Soverino 8/25
Inspired by dog image in the clouds
How Smart Is Your Phone?
By Diane Shaar
A Smart phone can talk, text and wake you up,
When you’re looking for some good coffee it will find you a cup,
If one is lost and confused it will get you out of a jam,
It can even take pictures, because it has a cam,
A business transaction can be made in a sec,
Welcome to the age of endless high tech,
The weather around the world is at the tip of your finger,
While at the same time it lets you listen to your favorite singer,
It can download apps that will take one to unlimited places,
Letting a person view, record and see new faces,
How Smart is your Phone, it has the ability to be found if lost,
Sparing you an incredible cost,
Able to manipulate our thoughts to occupying our time,
A smart phone has even been known to solve many a crime,
How smart is your phone, well I can sincerely tell,
Our population earth is addicted to their cell.
Loneliness
By Cathi Kadow
Loneliness came to visit with me today.
It has been my guest since you have gone.
When I asked it why it hadn’t left me yet,
It replied, “You haven’t asked me to go.”
So it stays and keeps me company.
Its silence at midnight is deafening.
It fills the bedroom with pain,
But until I ask it to leave my life,
It is my companion for each and every day.
Mirror Ball Moments…..
By Elaine Gotfryd Noonan, Power Poet
When a dancer dances
the room disappears
as music fills her soul.
She dances in the pauses
the silence between audible notes…
I AM A DANCER
The studio smells like wood & sweat
It’s when trees, wind, sun and rain
touch my soul
Nature and I become one…
I AM A DANCER
Time suspends as I enter
Perfect balance and effortless communication
amid every muscle and explosive nerve ending
in my body.
Perpetual motion in perpetual stillness…
I AM A DANCER
It glitters, it dances…
My mirror ball jumpsuit performs its own steps
As it smiles a friendly smile
And winks to those in the front row
Musical syncopation celebration!
A DANCER AM I
Of the everything
By Tim McElligott
Finding peace within yourself
depends on whether you hear the surf
as timeless or relentless
on whether you see the journey
as the way or as the means
on whether your nature feels
separate or a part
of the everything.
Prayer for the Other One
by Mikel James
Worry not, for their mournful cries
are all but fleeting noise
destined to fade.
Go forth with the wind
you salt-stung Traveller.
Cast no shadow for sorrow
as you find paradise
unburdened.
The Hungering Haze
By Andrew Welch
The night, quiet and solemn, draped its star-studded cloak over the village,
And there was neither bandit, roustabout, nor invader who wished to pillage.
The blacksmith left his forge and retired to his bedchamber,
Unaware of the thin line of smoke that followed him like a menacing stranger.
This wispy tendril oozed unseen through the gap beneath the front door;
It didn’t steal any of the weapons inside but exited thicker than before.
A watchman on patrol did spy this heavy vapor,
But its origin he ascribed to a priest burning tapers.
The mist slithered through the butcher’s yard next, up and over his window sill,
It didn’t touch the hanging hogs but left heavier still.
The chill in its wake crumbled the tulips that spring had freshly bore;
“Just winter’s last gasp,” said a shivering beggar, “and nothing more.”
The fog swallowed up the town, devouring street after street,
Leaving untouched only that house which belonged to The Lord of the Meek.
The cloud, vast and full, fled before the light of dawn greeted all:
It poured down the doctor’s chimney, exhausted from making all those house calls.
The Lid
By Celeste M Nelson
Carefully pry off the lid
Look in to see the wonders of the world…
the giggle of an infant, the starkness of a barren tree,
the kiss of an excited puppy, the smells of a busy kitchen, or
a first kiss full of promise and dreams.
Look even further to gaze upon the sadnesses of life…
the loss of a best friend, a failed attempt,
an irreconcilable love, lost hopes and dreams, or a final surrender to death.
Quickly replace the lid and shake vigorously.
Listen to the thumping and crashing, the screams of pain and joy,
of new life and last breaths.
Ready to look again?
Eager and curious, frightened and a bit terrified, unsure of the unknown.
What have you done? What have you created? Dare you look and hope?
Pry off the lid again, take a deep breath and peek.
No semblance of order, no priorities, no reasoning.
What do you recognize? Who do you see?
Before you lies a myriad of hopes and dreams, thoughts and prayers,
victories and defeat – people of past and present…
YOUR LIFE…all displayed in a glowing palette of color.
You smile, you remember, you may want to forget but you always HOPE.
Hope for another, hope for better, hope for others…but you decide to add
another drop of LOVE, close the line and shake again.
and hope once more…
The Next Upheaval
By Sam Calvert
A FRESH COOKIE IS A TASTY TREAT.
A BRILLIANT POET SAID, “THE ROSE IS OBSOLETE!”
THERE’S NO USE COMPLAINING IN REGARDS TO EFFICIENCY.
AN INSOMNIAC’S BRAIN LACKS SUFFICIENCY.
THE STREETS OF U.S. CITIES ARE A WAR ZONE.
BEWARE OF AN UNHINGED ARMED DRONE.
HOW DOES THE STATE SEPARATE GOOD FROM EVIL?
SOMEWHERE AMONG US BEGINS THE NEXT UPHEAVAL!
A GOODNIGHT SLEEP IS CERTAINLY A BLESSING.
LIFE’S MYSTERY CAUSES ONE TO KEEP STRESSING.
COURAGE IS THE PATHWAY TO THE ROAD NOT TAKEN.
THE BURROWED GROUNDHOGS BEGIN TO AWAKEN.
SPRING IS QUITE A FEW MONTHS AWAY.
WHEN HUNTED, IT’S SURVIVAL, PREDATOR OR PREY.
WIND AND RAIN ARE NOT HARBINGERS OF EVENTS AHEAD.
DOOMSDAY PREDICTIONS RENDER THOSE WITHOUT HOPE DEAD.
WAGES ARE UP, YET MONEY IS STILL TIGHT.
A BITTER OLD MAN HAS FINALLY SEEN THE LIGHT.
FOLLOW THE PATH THE OFFERS THE MOST TO ENJOY.
SOCIALIZE IN THE COMMUNITY WITHOUT BEING COY.
The Silence
By Cheryl Host
It crept in like a weather front, an insidious cold fog, and landed like a force of nature.
But this was not natural.
The words ring and sting.
The past was rewritten.
History became fiction that was dissected and discarded, no trace of an embrace.
The present is dissolving into pain and confusion.
Seeing you and not seeing you both hurt equally.
The future has been removed.
You have bestowed invisibility on me.
Now, the silence feels violent.
Ticket to Italy
By Connie Pavur
I went to Italy last week – it didn’t cost a dime.
I saw the sights-tasted delights -roamed the hills and valleys marking time.
(914.573)
In Florence, Botticelli’s art took my breath away
His timeless classic body of work reigns ageless to this day
(708.551)
In Pompeii before Vesuvius I shuddered at the sight
the hopelessness of humanity- the desperation of their plight
(937.77)
I scoured each town and borough -my guidebook seeking sights,
The cuisine of hill and hamlet – sampling each epicurean delight
(989.42)
From Tuscany -appreciation for the tasting of Italian minestrone…
livened my palate to such an extent….the recipes became my own
(641.594)
I went to Italy last week. It did not cost a dime.
All I needed was a Tinley Park library card. The Dewey
Decimel System did the rest. The library provides
us with every tool needed to investigate-explore- learn.
I can go anywhere in the whole wide world and a
library card can take me there.Tomorrow?
Maybe to France.. the Gardens of Versailles-Spring is coming you know!!
(944.36)
To My Surprise
By Sue Thatcher
The day is almost here
I can hardly wait.
Was I brave enough to venture out,
To see what was my fate?
Walking down the poetry path
With anticipation and hope.
Heart racing, palms sweating I turn the corner
Much to my surprise,
There it was in plain sight,
Posted on the rail for all to see.
Was a poem……
Written by me.
Write Now
By Patrick J. Byrne
So you want to be a writer. A painter of the prose.
Maybe Shakespeare level,
a rose is still a rose.
Or maybe something scary, that’s real frightening.
Like spooky stuff by R. L. Stine,
or even Stephen King.
How ‘bout something heady? Chekhov suits me fine.
Perhaps the style of Vonnegut,
to mold the reader’s mind.
You might be fond of romance, of saucy tales told.
Of knights and maidens swept away,
from castles dark and cold.
You could try some humor. Dave Barry writes a lot.
Learn of pacing, theme, and story arc.
Of editing and plot.
Faulkner or Fitzgerald, their styles you might blend.
But none of us will ever know,
‘till paper meets your pen.
Riddle, or Fifth Grade Lesson on Alliteration
By Megan Jurewicz
I meander through the mind
mingle with memory and murmur
moody musings
metered meaning
melodic melodrama
My marching majors
motivated masses, while
my melancholic minors
mimic the moans of mourners,
modulating misery
I manifest mambas
multiply merriment
muddle through madness
marry the metaphysical and material
magnify the messages of the meek and mute
Emotion in some measure
Movements without motion
The Junk Drawer
By Barbara Jo Ostroski
Recipes I promise to make for that “special” dinner
Pictures of when I was younger – thinner – left as inspiration
Important paraphernalia sequestered for safe keeping
Discarded oddments of things to remain unseen
Until I open the drawer looking for something I cannot find
Only to be accosted by these dreams, these failures
Hidden from plain view
For my eyes only
Bur lurking in deepest recesses of my heart
Controlling contents with a swift shutting
Bursting for attention when opened
Brooding, slumbering in that small kitchen drawer
Waiting for an awakening, waiting for me
Some day, I swear, a thinner me will dance in my kitchen
Chopping, dicing, slicing, that new recipe
Donning those earrings I forgot I placed there
Donning a bright smile, donning a bright soul
The Bells of St. Denis
By Kevin O’Connor
Down all the days
The misty morning haze
The sun it will rise
Amid the sorrow in my eyes
The small birds will sing
In the placid budding spring
But there’s a hunger wild and deep
That I must sow before I weep
And the bells of St. Denis ringing over the old canal
And the tow path’s winding down where the prairie fell
Beneath the master’s hand
Lay a brush upon this land
A pallet filled with gold
Sweeping like a river swift and bold
And you are Earth to me
Beyond which I cannot see
From the ground that guides my feet
To the boundless, timeless sea
And the Bells of St. Denis ringing over the old canal
And the tow path’s winding down where the prairie fell
And the ghost of Wild Bill, I dreamt, still asking after me
As he pulls those loaded ships to the sea
Excerpt from: Nary A Picture In Sight At All Through The House
By Gene Gryniewicz
the yard is emptied of footprints – the snow
newly fallen … tracks newly filled. a breeze
chills me as it washes over me; I am sitting
on the porch … a skunk stumbles drunkenly
through the hole in our neighbor’s fence;
he’s going home. herded by the breeze.
lumbering across our yard. he stops.
he searches his pockets. he turns
slowly towards the dark porch –
he cannot see me, but
he knows I am here, and I have the spare
set of keys he left with me for
just this moment