Author Bio



Carol Lynn Grellas is a Northern California-based writer. She attended Santa Clara University where she was an English and Art major. She enjoys writing in both free and metered verse. Her first Chapbook: Litany of Finger Prayers will be released in 2008 from Pudding House Press. Her second Chapbook, Object of Desire was recently accpeted for publication by Finishing Line Press and will be forthcoming.

She is widely publishced, including most recently, The Oasis Ezine & Online, Las Cruces for Poets & Writers, Munyori Poetry Journal, Words on Paper, The Pregnant Moon Review Moondance, Dogzplot, The Verse Marauder, A Tender Touch, MSU Great Falls Literary Guild: Writings from the River, The Storyteller Magazine, Kingly Blue, Chanterelle's Notebook, The New Mirage Quarterly, Silenced Press, The Hiss Quarterly and Flutter. She has poems forthcoming in, Ken*again, The Oak Bend Review, Octaves Eight, Eskimopie (SPAM), The Battered Suitcase, The Boston Literary Review, Word Catalyst Magazine, Strong Verse, Expression of Depression from Vagabondagepress with proceeds donated to the Mind charity project, Poet's Ink, Debris Magazine, Mississippi Crow, Poetry Friends & Madswirl

Carol Lynn's first book, I'm Packing Things for Heaven was published in 2007...Her hobbies include, cooking, gardening and dabbling with a paintbrush now and then. She enjoys being a moderator at the online workshop, The Critical Poet. She lives with her husband, five children, three parrots and a blind dog named Ginger, who inspire much of her poetry.

clgrellas@aol.com

~for my mother~
Pockets full of you
(I'm Packing Things for Heaven)


If you left me in the Springtime
Then the birds would halt their song
Quelling singing while you’re leaving
To signify how wrong,

If you left me in the Summer
Oh the rivers wouldn’t roll,
With all pebbles parched for moisture
From the babble that you stole.

If you left me in the Autumn
When the leaves begin to turn,
They would stop their color changing
Till the year you might return.

I you left me in the Winter
Then the rain would never fall
For a protest from the Heavens,
As if Angels heard my call.

Yet you left me in the evening,
when the seasons weren’t aware
as a secretive departure
that’s left silence everywhere.

And I feel a sobered sadness
With a chill that’s seeping through,
Each day I wear your overcoat
With pockets full of you.





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