Monday, April 16, 2018

Blogging: various poems from "Variations"


SUPPLICATION

Mottled
cottonwoods, nude
against a winter sky,
beg mother nature for a snow
cover.
~ ~ ~

SUNSET ON BEAVER LAKE
Sunset's
saber
flashing
across
gentle
ripples
spreads
what
appears
to be
golden
nougat
topping
~ ~ ~ ~

In Eureka Springs, tornado watch, April '18
IF TREES COULD TALK

If trees could talk, what would we say?
--that General Hunter passed my way

in June of eighteen-sixty-four,
retreating from the Lynchburg Corps;

--that Rebel boys fell at my feet,
blood soaking roots in summer's heat;

--that cannon balls so deeply sunk
scarred but did not kill my trunk.

A la Marceau, our language rife,
and stubbornly, we cling to life.
~ ~ ~ ~

HAIKU
library vestibule--
a homeless man
escapes east winds
~ ~ ~ ~



Under
rosemary's gray,
a red leaf from last year
catches my eye. I sit and write
poems.
~ ~ ~ ~

c 2018, PL dba lovepat press,  Benton AR USA

Thursday, April 5, 2018

WORKING IN THE YARD IN EARLY SPRING




Trusty tools








no wind
yet the yard swing’s moving
with two cats on it
~ ~ ~ ~

The old
spirea blooms
only on the branch ends.
I cut away much undergrowth.
Perhaps

next year,
blooms will suffuse
the end of the hedge row.
Now to set the clippers to new
privet.

~ ~ ~
Meanwhile,
the burn pile grows
higher and higher. When
will someone come to help me burn
safely?

(Rhetorical question: my sons will burn it this summer.)

c  2018, PL, dba as lovepat press, Benton AR

Saturday, March 31, 2018

A Guest Poem for Easter

The late Verna Lee Hinegardner, former Poet Laureate of Arkansas

DEVILED EGGS FOR THE POTLUCK
(A Monologue)
by Verna Lee Hinegardner
from Mosaic, published 2011

You remember how I always detested Potlucks?
Well, the ladies at church had another Potluck today.
Remember how I never knew what to take? Well,
plain as day, just like you were in the next room,
I heard you say, "When in doubt, take deviled eggs."
I was in doubt. I got out the eggs.

We still have the same Egg-man we had when you lived
next door, you know his spiel: "Extra large fertile brown
eggs delivered to the door a dollar a dozen year 'round."
And, by the way, he has another grandchild, a little girl,
born Christmas day, "Pretty as a picture," he says

But, let me get back to my deviled eggs. Just as
the water began bubbling, I suddenly thought about
one dozen little yellow chicks who would never peck
their way to freedom--never chirp on Easter.

It is I who chipped the shells from white ovals, I who
mashed the yellow yolks, added mayo and relishes,
I who filled waiting whites and sprinkled paprika,
and I who served one dozen little abortions
to unsuspecting Christians.

I needed you, Old Neighbor, so I
could pour my misery in your ears.

#
This is Pat: Even if the poem's protagonist was miserable, we are happy to celebrate the risen Christ. Hallelujah! 




Thursday, March 15, 2018

More March poems & photos

 Two-year-
old daffodils--
the blooms of four face me,
the others turn streetside, greeting
traffic.


A flat
of dianthus
on the porch in the rain
will end up in the ground as soon . . .
as soon . . .

Even
in DST,
with wind's ferocity,
and the windchimes' warning, I stay
inside.

Small finch
waits for the large
thrasher to leave before
flying up for a drink, perhaps
a bath.

AND A RED WASP
Lizard
and bumblebee
each looking for something?
Or just relishing the warmer
weather?

March winds,
warm temp good for
all outside gardening
chores except raking the banked-up
oak leaves.

Where did
that dark cloud go?
I do a 360--
nothing! Could it have been only
the sky?

c 2018, PL, dba lovepat press, Benton  AR US



Friday, March 2, 2018

March Musings - poems

Late winter - 2018


I sit
outside, waiting
for the t-storm forecast
on Code Red. Rumbles & raindrops
were all. . .
~ ~ ~ ~

I WANT TO ROOT THEM!
Pruning
Knockout roses--
as my bother insists--
breaks my heart to see all the limbs
destroyed.
~ ~ ~ ~

HOW CAN THAT BE?
One more
day gone without
pruning the roses "for
many more summer blooms." How can
that be?
~ ~ ~

BATHING
First day
of spring. My first
look outside (from inside)
offers the sight of a thrasher
and finch.
~ ~ ~

Before
the second storm,
Sir Robin takes a bath
in the chock-full-from-the-first-storm
basin.
~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~



c 2018, PL





Thursday, February 15, 2018

POEMS & PICS--This February

Wet mulch
is the devil
to load onto a square-
blade shovel. I use a 3-pronged
digger.

HAIKU
MID-WINTER'S WARMTH
AS I EXIT, THE REDBIRD
FLIES TO THE PLANTER
HAIKU
mid-winter warm spell
a sparrow & a lady
cardinal bathing
in winter's grayness
a ground-level dandelion
brightens . . . portends








FROM SON & GRANDSON
I bought
myself a box
of chocolates,
then the florist re-delivered
roses.

Saturday, January 27, 2018

LEAVING JANUARY BEHIND - POEMS



forest brouhaha
wishing to understand crow
so I could eavesdrop
~ ~ ~

freeway standstill
truck driver and her son
playing in the snow
~ ~ ~

a nest of swallows
holding up the Interstate
highway repairs
~ ~ ~

drizzly morning
a lone yellow pear
in the darkness
~ ~ ~

a mild January
three flecks of white
on the spirea
~ ~ ~

January's end
the 100-foot Christmas tree
losing its light