Thursday, November 28, 2013

The ABCs of Thanksgiving

(a Dorsimbra patterned poem)

As men of old did, so we bring our thanks--
for astronauts, ballet and calicos;
for doughnuts, earthworms, family, which ranks
above all else; for geese and bright hellos,
                  ideas and jobs,
                  lessons and mincemeat,
                  neighbors, and oboe's whine.
We praise God's name for poems, quilts and rain,
for smiles and turtles, ukes and valentines,
for walnuts, x-rays, yellowbell and zoos.
As men of old did, so we bring our thanks.

Thursday, November 21, 2013

Ambience of autumn - poems

scenic moountain road
the pines' understory
all colors of fall

to blow leaves into the street
what about the wind?

male cardinal
feasting on beautyberries--
windy autumn day

fall and windchimes
play. The cats chase oak leaves
skittering across the porch, and

An oak
leaf falls, is caught
in the mini-rose bush.
Two pots of pansies finally come

Two crows
carp at something
near the pecan tree, which
reminds me: gather the fallen

Three crows
span the roadway
this early fall morning.
Whatever do they hope to prove
by this?

Thursday, November 14, 2013

Cinquains from the Ozarks

October 29th
Views from
two windows show
different hues of dogwood
even though they are planted side
by side.
A friend
wondered why—with
my large, attick-ed home place—
I chose to go to the mountains
to write. 

And yet
she, too, escapes
 to a second dwelling
away from cats and colts and her
No squirrels,
 no crows—only
 the intrusive droning
of the nearby park cleaner’s leaf
October 31st:

yesterday’s rain
the flamboyant dogwood-
reds, the fiery hickories lost their

Thursday, November 7, 2013

The Web of Love--a poem

(Google Images)

The Web of Love
(Kyrielle pattern)

 My love is like the spider’s web:
when finished, it’s a cause celebre.
        It’s pliant in its lacy case
and glistens from my radiant face.

         Some say that love is ever new;
that love’s built daily, glue by glue.
        Love’s strands spin out with interlace
        and glisten from my radiant face.

         No lured distractions hide the goal
of meshing thread by thread, till, whole––
        the web of love is filled with grace.
It glistens from my radiant face.