Thursday, January 26, 2012

Where's the snow? Where's the snow?

So far in central Arkansas on the backside of January, the snow has failed to materialize. Dot has a small flag on her porch and I have a door mat, both with the same message, "Let It Snow."
The next best thing is to remember previous years via haiku written during the times it DID snow.

thirty degrees
only the paperman's tracks
in the ice and snow

(All the following, 2010)
no children
in the neighborhood
to build snowpeople
so the 40-year-olds
are left to do it (Tanka)

for the first time
in all the years I've lived here:
a fast-moving snow plow

to the mailbox
for the second time ... my first
snowprints are buried

yesterday's soft snow
crunchy after night temps
in the low twenties

snow still on the ground
inside, four daffodils
forced into bloom

my gloved hands
forcing four inches of snow
off the windshield

gunning over clods
the snow plow left
in my driveway
c 2012 by Pat Laster dba lovepat press

Thursday, January 19, 2012

In honor of my baby's 40-something birthday: poems about family

[written in 2000]
thirty years ago
to hospital on fresh snow
second daughter's birth

[written in 2001]
first, Christmas, then ice
overlooking my last child's
mid-month birthday

in my mother's yard
her mother's yellow rose

*the eternal hum
of the fan used to block
grandchildren's TV
[*Season's line.
Season is the pen name
of Carolyn Thomas, CA]

someone's pet cat
is now road kill
omigosh, it's ours!

[written in 1998]
the long snow break
my young grandson's inventions
using last year's toys

my boy in the snow
the neighbor inside our house
eating popcorn

runs back to Mama's warm house
during the outage

Three pets
sleep on my lap,
a cat and two small dogs,
their being at my whim, trusting.
Pure faith
[by Lew Taylor, Stillwater OK]

c 2012 by Pat Laster and Lew Taylor

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Winter in the Heartland - poems


cold and blustery
forced daffodil blossoms
brighten the table


when I look again
the short icicle
no longer there


kitten trying
to pin down its mother's
frisking tail


twenty-six degrees~
heat rising through metal spoon
as I stir coffee


five mornings
of frozen birdbath water
today, it's liquid


"frost on every flake"
I tell my finiky kid
about his Kellogg's

c 2012 by Pat Laster dba lovepat press

Thursday, January 5, 2012

Jocund January - poems


The Pope
reminded us
that Christmas is about
more than buying, giving gifts. We
knew this.

A dead
red-winged blackbird
in my neighbor's yard two
days after fireworks frightened it
and more.

Wind gusts
on the first day
of this new year, as if
sweeping the world clean after the
old one.

to 'Eleven's
hurricanes, tsunamis
and economic turmoil. Let's
move on.

With five
hours to spare, I
reached my writing goal: an
average of one piece every day
last year.

I see
red from the far
window. Eating privet
berries, a bright cardinal sits
so still.
c 2012 by Pat Laster dba lovepat press