NaPoWriMo 2016

April is so close! Even though it's spring officially, winter is malingering with a last flurry of snow. It's a great time to ignore the naysayers and celebrate spring with poetry. You can visit many others who choose to take on the NaPoWriMo challenge by following this link and exploring the Contributors link.



National Poetry Writing Month 2016

Spring Bulbs

young green spikes

arrogantly flair their display

despite the lingering, aged snow

Going Home Late

dark

and not much to see . . .

rain draining and

scattering the headlights

useless against this wet road . . .

just the eerie appearance

of a tiny white hand . . .

the end of a broken branch

sleeved in bark . . .

pointing the way home

Hibernation

curled up,
sleeping soundly

inside of me,
snoozing

during the
noisy holiday season,

stretching
ever so slightly

during the
January thaw,

poking its
ears up at the sound

of rustling
seed catalogs

then
drifting back to sleep

until
jostled awake by the

curious
inquiring if any new words

were sunning
out on the bright

white
surfaces of sheets

of paper, or
if

there would be

6 more weeks

of silence

Last Night

By the bulging half moon's light

Orion hunted over my home

knowing full that I wished

for a dark and silent night.



But he was set on hunting

the double dozen turkeys who comb

our mown grass and forest edging

and perch on dark branches chatting.



Calling out to his buddy Mars

Orion stood outside my window

shouting their conquests from afar

waking me with all his bright stars.

Wind Break

From child memory

I recognize

                   you standing distant at the edge

of the abandoned field

          tall

         lank

      parched

       ragged

one

     of many

scarecrows waging stillness

against the winds of winter

        once

     long ago

      planted

       or left

in solitude to stand

cold roots clamped to lichened walls

come spring

a few sparse sprigs of youth

may scarf your branches and

lend you the warmth of middle age.

October

The flame of swamp maples

fallen

sizzles cold black

in the still water;

yellow embers cool

on the frost-tipped earth;

yet

high

on

one

lone

tree

a candle of leaves

flickers bright

fanned by the breath

of the autumn sun.

Late Summer

At the flashy red feeder brimming with a home-made brew,

tiny hummingbirds fight furiously for their sugar fix.

Lanky, great blue herons wade languidly

under shady shrubs overhanging the cloud-reflecting pond.

Two harriers, a nesting couple, thread their swoops

through branches thickly laden with greenery

and have culled both bunnies and chipmunks

from the neighborhood lawns.

Deer graze perilously close to the back-filled

edge of the hill where the weeds are a more delectable

spring-green, blanched by shadows.

And breaking evening's silence,

all night, every night.

turkeys perched in the pines call to each other,

unwilling to turn out the light

of summer's sultry moon.

Yin Yang

balance

sound silence

words music

rest churn

work play

distance     compassion

wisdom    forgetfulness

selflessness   awareness

outreach       meditation

anger                  healing

dreaming          engaging

drifting                                settling

peacefulness                    anarchism

beginning                          ending

reflection

Lesson

Absent-mindedly

tried to pour

cold tea

into

a closed jar:

like a mind -

can't fill it

if its

shut.

Elegy

Alas!

My betta of hand-painted glass

has chosen to pass

over the Rainbow Bridge at last

joining my hapless pets of the past . . .

Alas!