Grab a pencil and pull up a chair, this is the place for poetry!
I think, therefore I am: beautiful
in a simple, smiling kind of a way
velvety, underfoot, a little something
to remember me by
Let me ease your heart
with bard songs that bring
sweet nothings to mind
Carry me close, sprinkle me
with sugar and I will
garnish your days,
a lion-hearted darling
gracing the garden with a flourish
of loamy, bright color-splash
Oh the humble pansy! So ubiquitous, so nice. Thanks for reading!
delicate purple sweetness,
pipe your secrets in my ear
sing to me while I bury my face
in your perfume
the essence of something
so far away in my memory
I can barely see it on the horizon
but it approaches
at a run, swift as a river
washing over my senses as
I close my eyes
and breathe it in
Thank you for reading!
Pride of parks and roundabouts in Britain
where Wordsworth waxed ecstatic
in his regard of those yellow hosts
Bright faces perking up the lawns
of New York after a dreary
endless winter
waving in the breeze like so many
flags pointing toward warmer days
trumpeting a new season
I never noticed their absence
in the south, dazzled instead
by the yellow face in the sky
imposing a presence stronger
than any waving gilded field
beating the soil with warmth
for longer than a short-lived
chivalrous heart can bear
Daffodils don’t really bloom in Texas, not without some serious cultivation, and it doesn’t seem like anybody bothers to plant them – not that I have seen, anyway. We don’t really have the climate that suits them, with spring starting not only early but with a big warm bang. I think of them more as the type of flower that gives you a hint that maybe, just MAYBE, sometime in the next few weeks you might be able to take off your jacket. Anyway they were everywhere in the UK and so nice to look at. Also if you’ve never read Wordsworth’s excellent poem, you should. Thanks for reading!
After spending over a year hemming and hawing, an email from Medium reminding me my membership was fixing to auto-renew finally galvanized my decision to leave there. I’m sorry to do it, because I met some wonderful people and the community atmosphere amongst the poets is – for the most part – tremendous, but at the end of the day I am spread too thin being on multiple platforms, and if I have to choose I’d rather it be one that belongs only to me, rather than feeling like I am under the watchful brow of a parent organization. Granted, I don’t make money here on WordPress, but it would take me months of writing on Medium to earn enough for a trip to Starbucks. So, there ya go – lucky y’all (haha) are the only ones who get to read what drivel I push upon the world!
PS I didn’t delete my account, I just became a non-member. Because it’s entirely possible I’ll go back one day. Never say never.
I can feel myself opening back up to the creative journey. Maybe it’s the onset of summer, maybe the latest difficult period has run its course, maybe it’s the movement of the spheres, but I can feel the shell cracking and letting in a little light again. To that end, I hauled out a bunch of books (pictured above) to help jump-start the process. I have a little book on creativity that came either from Lomography with a Diana camera thing I purchased a couple of years ago, or it was in a Scribbler box, but anyway I started scribbling all over it and that got the ball rolling. You never know what will do it.
Also this book. . . . .
. . . . spoke the loudest to me and I’ve started working my way through it. When I’ve had a long dry & empty spell, I need a guided experience to unblock the channels and start me on the path again. The first exercise has to do with staring at yourself in the mirror – YIKES I do not find that fun, but I did it.
To end my rambling, here’s a little poem I got up from the piano to write the other day. Inspiration is starting to hit again at the most unlikely times. . . .
11th May
Today is a to-do, a now
and all that yesterday stuff
is like the memory of a sunset
that time at that place
with those people whose faces
have faded like your
old jeans that finally
ripped in an indecent spot
and it was a shame to
throw them out but
sometimes you just have to
let go and move on
the divide of hours
has a good reason and
plenty of purpose
the tense of a verb
can bring you back
to time and remind
you of the gift, like a
sunrise, that is
right now, today
that grand new TO-DO
Thank you for reading!
Neighborly, she always says hello
keeping a garden of tidy inspiration
from her motorized chair
Her smiles light the air that
surrounds her, a heartfelt message
of sisterhood arcing the distance
between us with the swiftness
of a blossom pushing out
to announce the arrival of spring
Hardy, she has weathered life
with the persistence of a kernel’d
bulb, resisting the devastation of frost,
blooming again because she can
I have a lovely neighbor named Iris who is mobility impaired, who has a garden that is almost as lovely as her smile, and who I love to talk to whenever I get the chance. This poem is for her. Thank you for reading!
sometimes healer
a bumpy belly in
a purple skirt
a little hat, sunshade
daisy cousin
joy bringer
friend to the triple B:
they can’t resist you
and neither can I
Somehow I don’t possess a single image of a coneflower – I need to change that. Thanks for reading!
sleep bringer
down a dark hall
where banshees lurk
white not from purity
but the sear of eternity
burning behind the
eyelids of escaping man
red blood of valiance
soldier cloaks soaked
in sacrificial glory
a field of men sown
in battle, marked with
the kiss of war.
Take your last look, Ares;
make your last escape
For this flower poem I played with the two colors of poppy (are there more than two??) and their various meanings / uses. Thank you for reading!
Litte frogs hopping along by the water,
as you wish, growing wilder
by the day in May
My chin will tell the truth:
stick after stick of your namesake
disappears in the kitchen,
but we don’t welcome you there
unless tamed and sad in a jar
trail free, little leapers,
in a spill of sunshine
across the open field
May flower mania continues! Thank you for reading!
Says Bee, with glee: John Jacob,
is that you? . . . . Ah me,
I see, I mistook you for Daisy.
Butterfly and I came
flying by, for a quick visit.
Whatever your name is, we
think you’re sweet, and could
play in your purple
frills all day.
Channeling Emily here – plus how great is the suit on the guy in the photo?? It’s an old photo, but then again by now this is also an old poem! Thank you for reading!
waves of blue following
the highway’s undulation
a lupine ribbon
drawn across the hill country
brought on by autumn rains
a sky-shadow trailing
underneath
the stars
official mascot of the vernal season
protected, revered
immortalized in every art
especially family photos
where posing groups leave behind
flattened sections
soon to be filled by flattened
patties left by the soft-eyed grazers
whose great warm lips
enjoy this new offering each spring
Texans know this one well! I grew up reading Tomie dePaola’s Legend of the Bluebonnet, and it haunts me still. Here’s the legend if y’all are unfamiliar with it. Thank you for reading!
The Poetry Patio