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

WORKING IN THE YARD IN EARLY SPRING

Trusty tools

dianthus

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

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! 

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

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

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.

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