Friday, January 30, 2015

Goodbye to another (mostly) warm January

Just a few more weeks till ....... PL
From  Connecting Our Houses, 1997
70 degrees
spring fever
in January
Published in Haiku Headlines, January, 2006
basking in the sun
shedding one pair of socks...
and then another

From Lighting a Candle, Winter, 2008
rain predicted
this mid January--
El  Nino-warm. How warm? Sparrow

From January Gimcracks, 2003
in and out of the pear tree
warm winter morning

a gabby blackbird
disturbing my chaise-lounge nap
warm January

From New Year's Project, 2006
church employee
taking her rest
on Mondays
   warm January sunshine
   perfect for a chaise-lounge nap

From Listen...the snow, 2005
warm January
playing badminton
over the swing set
[written, 1998]

a mild January
three flecks of white
on the spirea
[written 2000, published in Haiku Headlines, 2004]

mid-winter mildness~
first, the snowmen bric-a-brac
now, Valentines
[written, 2004]

c 2015, Pat Laster dba lovepat press


Thursday, January 22, 2015

January's changing weather - poems

[1. 22. '15]

head first
into the brown leaves
its tail twitching
[1.22. '99]

farmland disappears
under floodwaters
and tides
[news: 1.6.'97]

the incessant sound
from a dining-room wall
traced to attic vent
[1. 30. '10]

snowman coffee mug
--no sign of snow so far
this January
[1.23. '12-also true, '15]

"... not bitterly cold."
15 degrees feels bitter
to me

gray streaks of dawn ~
town murdered in its sleep
by a twister
[A. Harter, AD-G, 1.23.'99]

in the birdbath--
before my eyes, they turn
into whirling, mesmerizing

sixty degree
temps earlier preclude
any chance of a light snowfall

~~~PL dba lovepat press

Thursday, January 15, 2015

In Memory of Miller Williams, scientist, poet, father, husband, professor, et al.

Miller Williams, who died on January 1, 2015
A poem written in 1999 as an entry in the Poets' Roundtable of Arkansas's Sybil Nash Abrams Award. It didn't place.  In 2004, it won a 3rd Place in the AWC's Rosa Zagnoni Marioni Award. Later that year, it won 3rd Place in Nina Tillery's National Poetry Day award. This is the first publication.
As part of an audience with her poetry professor, she accents her Adoro with lines from the Master's poems
We sit on his porch
watching the lightning
from yonder Ozark ridge.
Thunder rumbles
like the should and oughts
of his father's early sermons.
When your father dies,
take notes somewhere inside.
Taut skin stretches over his head
as if pinned at the nape.
Once dark and bushy, his hair
now pale and tame, has slipped slow
as a glacier into a neckline fringe.
Magnified by tortoise shells,
his dark eyes sink like marbles.
But pity the hand whose closing
scissors excise him
and sever the U of A Press.
Despite Frank and football,
the literati will have none of it.
Like fans on fall Saturdays,
we boo and hiss and leave off
breathing until it is restored.
His poems navigate between
innovation and tradition
like a Buffalo River canoeist.
Similes shimmer; some titles
are longer even than their texts.
The storm moves to the next ridge.
Listening, we wait.

Thursday, January 8, 2015

Winter is upon us-poems


One cat on the sofa,
one cat on the rug.
Two cats in the wingback chair
locked in sleepy hug.

Sitting at the table,
I relish every bite
of cheese-on-rye while watching
the trees in icy white.
[PL - 2. 5. '14]

"Drat it!"

in the feeder,"
says the daddy redbird,
"so I'll try the birdbath. It's full,
but cold."
[PL - 1. 4. ;15]


two bluebirds
filling up
on beautyberries
the temps drop
[PL - 1. 7. '15]


cardinal sips
under the rock
on the frozen
temps still falling
[PL - 1. 7. '15]