Winter poems, photos

                                           Annamarie Parker photo


Pointillism

One petunia bloom, two pansies,
three demure oxalis, many holly,
California Moon Vine
berries, early jonquils inside
(forced) and blooming in the yard––points
delightful during winter’s gloom.
Add redbirds, robins, thrashers, jays.
Now all our palette needs is snow.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

A Winter Mélange

        

         On Epiphany,

         the aroma

         of roasting turkey—

         bought for Christmas

         but not needed—delights

         with homey fragrance,

                                                              and the first snowfall soothes

         with white stillness.

         Large windchimes

         play what sounds like

         the opening notes

         of “We Three Kings.”

         It’s possible.

         On Christmas,

         I heard them play the “Silent

         Night” motif.

         I eat ice cream and fruitcake

         in front of the fire.

         The cat sidles up for a rub.

         His fur, like a warm blanket,

         reminds me that winter

         doesn’t last forever.

ON THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS – a parody

On the day after Christmas in twenty-sixteen,

in summer-like weather like we’ve never seen,

I sit on the porch swing with wassail to drink

and hope that this pen doesn’t run out of ink

before I can transcribe this writing that’s new.

(If so, there’re others—some black and some blue.)

The leftover food now resides in my fridge.

(When some folks have none, it’s a great sacrilege.)

But guests wouldn’t think of transporting it home.

“Just compost it!” one said. “It’ll end up as loam.”

But I wasn’t ready to do that just yet;

perhaps friends will drop by, or neighbors, unmet.

Two bottles of eggnog for seasonal use

unopened for two feasts—what can I deduce?

The wind’s getting cranky--it may drive me in—

and dark clouds are scudding—are storms to begin?

The ‘climate-change’ pooh-poohers make an excuse:

“Anomaly,” they say, “This change is a ruse.”

While scientists measure the overall change

proclaim, “Yes, indeed, but it’s within range.”

(Digression’s my forte—let’s get to the point

of this parody, memoir; it’s time to anoint

today’s poem’s center, its action, its meat,

its meaning, emotional crux, and its heat.)

This summer-like weather--anomaly, yes--

will be soon forgotten in winter’s duress.

But lo! even winter can’t outlast the sun

and the tilt of the earth. Before long, winter’s done.

Soon, springtime has sprung; summer’s in on a wing.

When temps rise to sixty, I’ll be back on the swing.

 

                           Couchwood in an earlier year

c 2019, PL, dba lovepat press, Benton AR USA

Making the best of the new year-- poems

NEW YEAR'S DAY POEMS OF THE PAST

New Year's morning
quiet after the light snow
except for the creek
(1997)

January first
each dated tree ornament
a year older
(2003)

replacing
old calendar with new
full of things to do
(2004)

New Year's project:
finding the stuff I stashed away
before Christmas
(2006)

23 degrees
first day of the year, I read
Season's spring haiku
(Carolyn Thomas)
(2008)

new holiday towels
wisps of clean gray hair now red
in the shower drain
 (2009)

new woodsy backyard
enjoying the birdfeeder
and binoculars
(2013)

first day of new year
two inches of snow
and no birds
(2017)

again, New Year's Day
reading all eight of earlier
haiku booklets
(2019)

c 2019, PL dba lovepat press, Benton AR USA

New windows in December: poems

EXERCISE
Jumping
from one sawhorse
to another, then down,
a squirrel forages in the leaf
carpet.
~ ~ ~ ~

MY KIND OF MUSIC
I hum
Beethoven's Ode
to Joy keyed to the drone
of the microwave's intrusive
motor.
~ ~ ~ ~

THE NIGHT BEFORE
Prepared
for snow and ice
by canceling church trip
only to wake up to sunshine,
brown leaves.
~ ~ ~ ~

HAIKU
dogwood leaf
on a snowman's
heart
~ ~ ~ ~

NEW WINDOWS
The 'zing'
of his nail gun
interrupts the quiet;
stuns, as the hi-fi plays Christmas
carols.
~ ~ ~ ~

BELOW FREEZING
Heat's on
but worker leaves
the door open each time
he goes out, even though I shut
it once.
~ ~ ~ ~

                                          Attic windows still must be replaced

c 2018, PL dba lovepat press, Benton AR USA

Thirty days has . . . . . . November --poems

                                            leaves  blown onto the south steps

Windy--

oak leaves settle

until the next gust hits,

& then they scatter farther down

the porch.--PL

~ ~ ~ ~

open window--

a passing train's whistle

on the cool night air

--Dot McLaughlin, NJ

~ ~ ~ ~

three generations

and the calico . . . Sunday

afternoon naps

--PL

~ ~ ~ ~

six-foot wingspan

the blue heron lifting

from algae-filled pond

--PL

~ ~ ~ ~

a vice-president's

new life as a chimney sweep

his colleagues all died

--PL

~ ~ ~ ~

another full moon

bigger   brighter   rounder than

any seen in childhood

--Dion O'Donnol, CA

encased in ice

limbs and lights sagging

Santa on the firetruck 

--PL

Cinquains by Pat and friends--Ted Badger & the late Lew Taylor

BIOGRAPHY
His dog
walked him to school,
and many years later,
one lay beside his bed until
he died.
--PL, from an obit
~ ~ ~ ~

BLIP ON THE SCREN
Life is
transitory--
a wisp of smoke soon gone.
Best then focus energies to
seek love.
--Ted O. Badger
~ ~ ~ ~

BREAKING WRITERS BLOCK
Write poems
like you pick plums.
Glean all that come to you.
Sort out the ones with flaws and worms
later.
--Lew Taylor
~ ~ ~ ~

CAROUSEL
Shuffling
the wooden herd
between storage spaces
resulted in the loss of one
pony.
---PL
~ ~ ~ ~

DOMINANT TRAIT
Science
can't abolish
our fallibility
because human nature always
prevails.
--TB
~ ~ ~ ~

DR. JOHNNY WINK, OBU
Satchel
in his right hand
paper in the other,
he walked to class memorizing
poems.
--PL
~ ~ ~ ~

EVOLUTION CONTINUES
Early
worms sometimes meet
birds, becoming breakfasts.
Some day hence all worms will be late
sleepers.
--LT
~ ~ ~ ~

c 2018, PL d/b/a/ lovepat press, Benton AR

A poetic salute on Veteran's Day

A SALUTE

It's Veteran's Day, and in my mind
I see the flags and guns aligned,
parading down the thoroughfare,
cheers and chanting everywhere.

With wholeness gone, but proud and free,
from wheelchair, an amputee
waves tearfully, perhaps through pain
and hopes it was not all in vain,
                                                   his sacrifice.

Memories--still vivid--swirl,
blitzing those who served at Pearl;
the Rangers now, though all old men,
smile proudly as they think again
                                                     of Normandy.

Gunner's mates, ensigns and chiefs
remember all their various griefs
and hells, awaking still to screams
of slogging through the swamp in dreams
                                                                   of Vietnam.

Returned to glorious accolades,
the troops of Desert Storm parade,
proud of their work in blinding sands,
defending Kuwait's borderlands
                                                   on Persia's gulf.

And in my mind's projection room,
I hear the drum's resounding boom,
reminding me of sacrifice,
of pain and death: the awesome price
                                                            of freedom.

PL, written November 11, 1989.

c 2018, PL d/b/a lovepat press, Benton AR USA

Blogging: 'mums & haiku

plants in for winter

Christmas cactus budding

in late October

~ ~ ~

red vine adorning

the bridge abutment--

approach both with care

~ ~ ~

after the crows,

small birds jibby & schree

--red honey locust

~ ~ ~ 

ecru over brown

leaves on the trail...…..farther

splashes of orange

~ ~ ~

6:00 a. m.

the cat & I both stretching

toward another day

~ ~ ~

an owl's whoawh

breaking the morning silence

over the deer stand

~ ~ ~ 

c 2018, PL, d/b/a lovepat press, Benton AR USA