Monday, October 2, 2017

Time for reunions - a poem

Kathy, Roxie, Janis, Bettye

REUNIONS

R  eunions--whether in families or for friends
E  voke ebullient anticipation or edgy dread.
U  nderlying our attendance is a vulnerability
N  atural to those who've grown apart. What if
I  'm too big, too bald, too bold, too shy? Will
O  thers accept what I've become? Alas,
N  o one is responsible for me but me.
S  ympathize, empathize. Life c
                                                   o
                                                     n
                                                       t
                                                         i
                                                           n
                                                             u
                                                               e
                                                                 s.

Linda, Carolyn, Kaki.

c 2017, PL dba lovepat press, from variations, 1994

Tuesday, September 26, 2017

Autumn creatures & plants - poems

Dogwood at Dairy Hollow

ON TUESDAY
Monday's
spider not there.
Without going closer,
I strain my eyes for a look-see:
nothing.
~~~

PERSISTENCE
I douse
one large ant hill
in the stone-filled sidewalk.
The next week, an even larger
one's built!
~~~

TOO TINY TO SEE
Web from
holly to Norfolk
pine, but no sign of its
maker on this cool September
morning.
~~~

SAVED BY THE OLD WOMAN
Cat tries
to go inside
with a squirming lizard
in his mouth . . . "No, no, no you don't!"
I said.
~~~

MAKING THEMSELVES VISIBLE
Juvy
redbird, robin
fly into my vision--
one in the purple shrub; one in
the grass.
~~~

ALONE
Scruffy
fledgling redbird
has the "pool" to himself
after his sister abandons
her bath.
~~~

IT'S THAT TIME AGAIN
Maple
leaves--five of them--
fall, one at a time; one
after the other, nestle in
the grass.
~~~

AUTUMN'S HERE!
A long
blooming season--
those Encore azaleas
that welcome the sunny first day
of Fall.
~~~
~~~


                                          Spider webs are everywhere these days

c 2017 PL, dba lovepat press





Monday, September 18, 2017

Mid-September: poems

#299 'TIS THE SEASON
Drier
than at any
time this summer--yellow-
bell and wild coleus both are
drooping.
~~

#297 WHIRRING
I hear
a hummingbird
behind me . . . in a bit,
it pauses within view, then flies
away.
~~

#298 HIDING
Redbird--
its 'chit' constant
but undiscovered. Now,
it's moved from the dogwood to the
maple.
~~

#300 ON THE PORCH AT DUSK
Night bugs
providing me
with stereophonic
music--some from the east, some from
the west.
~~

#301 A FORUM
Goldfinch,
tufted titmouse
and a sparrow all bathe.
Why so many birds all of a
sudden?
~~

#302 INTERPRETATION
"I think
he (the Prez) means..."
Why does his staff always
feel they have to explain the things
he says?
~~

#303 LOSS OF A FRIEND
Spacecraft
Cassini burned
up as planned in Saturn's
ringed atmosphere after twenty
years' work.
~~
c 2017, PL, dba lovepat press - hummingbird photo by Thurman Couch






Sunday, September 10, 2017

Tiny creatures lurking about: poems

Tiny
hummingbird rests
on a beautyberry
limb close to the feeder. Next look,
it's gone.

Next look,
it's back again.
Third look, there's TWO of them.
How much longer will they stay, I
wonder.
~~~
PL, 9/10/17

At dusk,
week-eating grass
around the roses, I
look up: nose to nose with a black
spider!
~~~
PL, 9/9/17

The squirrel
forages in
the wagon full of grass
clippings and irises' brown tips.
Surely,

with all
the pear leavings
thrown into the hedge row,
it's not hungry. It scampered off,
mouth full.
~~~
PL, 9/9/17

Juvy
redbird, robin
visit Couchwood today--
one in the purple shrub, one in
the grass.
~~~
PL,  9/9/17


Thursday, August 24, 2017

Pears, pears, pears, pears, working up the pears

 Second wagonload of wind-fall pears, August '17
pear petals
drifted
against the fence
--by Susan Delphine Delaney
from Facebook. Used with permission
~~~
a buzz
from the pail of pears
that need “working up”
--sycamore’s mottled bark, October monthly, 2012
~~~
bountiful harvest
one leaf and one pear still hang
on the ancient tree
-- in front of the moon (2010)

CINQUAIN
After
the pear harvest,
the south wind wrestles one
recalcitrant fruit to the ground.
My treat!
--posted on Facebook, 11.13.'14
~~~

leaving plenty
of the windfall pears
to gleaner bees
--a patch of yellow, 2005

ping of sealing lids—
thought of winter preserves
eases today’s work
--Connecting Our Houses, 1997

c 2017, Pat Laster dba lovepat press




Sunday, August 20, 2017

Pear-motif poems

From my January Gimcracks, January 30, 2003,
drizzly morning
a lone yellow pear
in the blackness
~~PL

From Dim Sum, 2005/II, p. 23:
apple orchard--
could I have
the pear tree
~~Yu Chang

From day breaks, February 20, 2000:
pear tree
white explosion on
the blue day
~~(the late) Dion O'Donnol

LOVE POEM II
I just finished breakfast
--cheese omelet
with picante sauce,
coffee, milk,
and a ripe
(the best kind)
pear.

I thought of you
and your buckets
of blown-off-the-tree
pears,
not to mention those
that resisted the wind.

It does not take much
to call you to mind--
maybe nothing at all--
but the pear served
admirably.

I hope you harvested
as much good from them
as I did.
~~Reformed from a note or email sent by L.T. sometime during 2012.



Wednesday, August 16, 2017

A poem by Wendell Berry

DARK WITH POWER
Dark with power, we remain
the invaders of our land, leaving
deserts where forests were,
scars where there were hills.

On the mountains, on the rivers,
on the cities, on the farmlands
we lay weighted hands, our breath
potent with the death of all things.

Pray to us, farmers and villagers
of Vietnam. Pray to us, mothers
and children of helpless countries.
Ask for nothing.

We are carried in the belly
of what we have become
toward the shambles of our triumph,
far from the quiet houses.

Fed with dying, we gaze
on our might's monuments of fire.
The world dangles from us
while we gaze.

--from The Selected Poems of Wendell Berry, page 28,
originally in the book Openings (1968)