Poems for the waning year

ANIMALS HAVE IT RIGHT
Sleeping
winter away
not a bad idea--
even for older folks in cold
houses.
~ ~ ~ 12. 20. '16

PRE-CHRISTMAS DILEMMA
No room
at the table
to eat my evening meal:
wrapping paper, gift boxes, stamps
and cards.
~ ~ ~ 12. 22. '16

MIRACLE? MAGIC? HAPPENSTANCE?
I swear,
around bedtime
on Christmas, I heard strains
of "Silent Night" from the largest
wind chime.
~ ~ ~ 12. 26. '16

70 degrees
on an early winter day
a mockingbird bathes
~ ~ ~ 12. 26. '16

in the bare oak tree
one leafy branch still hangs
moving in the wind
~ ~ ~ 12. 26. '16

summer-like Christmas --
a juvenile squirrel climbing
the wet-barked oak tree
~ ~ ~ 12. 26. '16

Other poets on frost and snow

JACK FROST HIEROGLYPHICS
by the late Verna Lee Hinegardner
(from I Own One Star, 2005)

This morning every window in my house
was twinkling like a sky-borne melody
crisscrossing words that stir a memory
and I recall how icy panes around
the child in me. My fingernail snow-plows

initials in cold frost; and instantly
I need my Mommy's arms to comfort me
with tales of Santa Claus and Mickey Mouse.

I'm older now but still love Jack Frost Art
and search for hieroglyphics each cold day.
Folks claim that I'm naïve; can't understand.
My own grandkids think maybe it's the start
of Alzheimer's. Someday, like I, they'll say,
"My Lord can etch glass windows, hearts and sand."
~ ~ ~
SPLINTER
by Carl Sandburg
(from Arrow Book of Poetry, 1965)

The voice of the last cricket
across the first frost
is one kind of good-by.
It is so thin a splinter of singing.
~ ~ ~
III THE HUNTERS IN THE SNOW
by William Carlos Williams
(from a longer poem, "Pictures from Brueghel"
in Selected Poems, 1969)

The over-all picture is winter
icy mountains
in the background the return

from the hunt it is toward evening
from the left
sturdy hunters lead in

their pack the inn-sign
hanging from a
broken hinge is a stag a crucifix

between his antlers the cold
in yard is
deserted but for a huge bonfire

that flares wind-driven tended by
women who cluster
about it to the right beyond

the hill is a pattern of skaters
Brueghel the painter
concerned with it all has chosen

a winter-struck bush for his
foreground to
complete the picture   .    .
~ ~ ~

CINQUAINS FOR THE SEASON

ROOSEVELT & CHURCHILL LIGHTING THE NATIONAL CHRISTMAS TREE IN 1941
"Under
a rind of moon
in a time of war, they
gazed up & were bathed in Christmas"
grandeur.
--Leonard Pitts Jr. 12. 11. '11

BAPTISM
After
posting the mail
I stop, notice oak leaves
furling down. And then one lands on
my head.

GOTTA BE OVER 18, SIR

Grandpa--
Christmas shopping
with a clerk for his 5
grandchildren--has to sign for a
movie.

MID-DECEMBER
After
this week, the Pope
will be as old as I
am. Lo! the discrepancy in
careers.

LAST BIO
"Known by
many, liked by
some, disliked by others,

gone to a better place." (Dick O.
Poyen)

FOR A FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD
What is
more powerful
than TV, DVDs,
Harry Potter on computer?
It's SNOW!!

~~~
~~~

TANKA poems written in past Decembers

1998
recycling
week-old newspapers
I haven't read
hoping what I don't know
won't hurt me
~ ~ ~ ~

1999

no gift for me
under my tree
a reminder
that my beloveds are gone
never to return
[from M Oakley, AD-G]
~ ~ ~ ~

2005
do I
or do I not
invite him
to a New Year's Eve party?
I'm afraid of the "message."
~ ~ ~ ~

2006
first night in many
that our beloved longhair
won't jump into my bed.
his teenaged master finds
him lifeless in the road
~ ~ ~ ~

2008
after two nights
and a day, wind chimes
suddenly quiet
cold front & thunderstorm
finally passed through
~ ~ ~ ~

2011

an unwelcome gift
from California to Maine:
black widow spiders
in a shipment of parts
to a shipbuilding outfit
~ ~ ~ ~

2014
resting
atop
a hay bale
the black cat
watches
[photo, R.McFarland, AD-G]
~ ~ ~ ~

2015
dropped foliage
revealing a nest
in the dogwood
on closer look
a branch of oak leaves
~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~
c 2016 PL

Cinquains from past Novembers

I gave Lydia one small African violet and look what happened.

They are in her west window. She feeds them as she waters.

BAKING DAY

Green beans

and onion fight

with the sweet aroma

of pear cobbler & blueberry

muffins.

[2008]

~~~~

MY CHILDREN, THANKSGIVING

One in

Florida, two

at in-laws; least one home

with new baby. Thank God for Mom,

siblings.

[2001]

~~~~

THANKSGIVING

So much

is being made

of tradition this year

of fear. Togetherness--all that

matters.

[2001]

~~~~

NO CROATIONS WANTED

Fifty

miles of razor

wire fencing, protecting

Slovenia from immigration

masses.

[2015]

~~~~

LITTLE RIVER COUNTY, ARK.

Voters

okayed selling

beer, wine, marijuana*

but nixed increasing library

millage.

* for medical purposes

[2016]

~~~~

HOLIDAY DECOR

Soft glow

of the mantel

decorated for fall:

butter churn, autumn leaves, pumpkins,

gourds, nuts.

[2013]

~~~~

FIFTEEN, NOW

Fourteen

new poems flowed

from my pen while 'living'

ten days at Dairy Hollow. Am

I blest!

[2012]

~~~~

~~~~

c 2016 PL dba lovepat press

November poems

Scene from the upper deck of 505, WCDH, Eureka Springs

A NEW DAY, A NEW ERA

Waking

to a Trump/ Pence

election landslide, and

angst about what's in store for our

country.

    (But)

Traffic

still passes, trains

still blare as they roar thru'

town. Life still exists and we'll get

through this.

[11.9.'16]

~~
~~

emptying compost

after dark

something dashes off

~~

coin toss decides

the mayorship after

a tie vote

~~

day his project's due

picture of Pandora's Box

in the newspaper

~~

yellowed soybeans

and fields of coreopsis

last trip to the creek

~~

a lone limb of green

on the yellow-leafed

tulip poplar

Amid the human cacophony, the need for stillness - POEMS

Photo by C. Hoggard

just before sunrise

a flock of birds

breaking the stillness

~~

waking

to the stillness of a phone

that doesn't ring

~~

still summer morning

whirr of a hummingbird

purr of the cat

~~

the stillness

of the morning

and then the bluejay

~~

~~

These are my poems included in Season's Greeting Letters - 2017, a world-wide publication of only haiku and tanka, collected and published by Mohammed H. Siddiqui, Baltimore. Each year, he mandates a theme, and poets can submit as many poems as they wish, before June 30 each year. If interested, contact me for further details. 

Photo by N. Ziegler, Oak Ridge. A garden in memory of his wife and my aunt, Arlene

A medley of forms -- poems

FOUR TANKA

school shootings
nothing new--
a century ago
   two boys

   in an outhouse
[OTHER DAYS, Western Grove, AR]
~~
western sun
breaks through
ominous cloud cover
   like a flashlight--
   just for a second
~~
even after lunch
I continue to read from
the loaned haiku book
   stopping now and then
   to write one of my own
~~

one more time:
washing the quilt I made
looking for whole blocks
   nothing worth keeping
   except memories
~~

THREE HAIKU

fresh sweet water
from a stream
that runs to the lake
~~
judges deconstruct
the best poems
to determine rank
~~
my state the first
to nominate a phone booth
to the Register
{Prairie Grove AR]
~~

TWO CINQUAINS

I would
collapse, too, if
I heard from the judge that
my bail was set at twenty-five
million!
~~
Thank you,
Mr. Biker,
for the quiet hum your
machine makes as it passes by
my street.
~~
~~
c PL, dba lovepat press

Haiku for Autumn - traditional and modern

brown thrasher's
daily bath
my daily treat
~~
squirrel finally finds
the fake corn I provide
leaves birdseed alone
~~
two new maroon blooms
on the first-year clematis
early fall's cool snap
~~
windfall pear--
the bottom half
rotting
~~
too cool
for the AC
too quiet
~~
the vet
remembers
my other name
but not me
~~
58 degrees--
me with a jacket
the worker shirtless
~~
sunshine
through the sprinkler
a rainbow
~~
reading
Upstate Dim Sum
such spare haiku
~~~~~
~~~~
c  2016, PL dba lovepat press, Benton AR USA

POEMS FROM THE FRONT PORCH

Front porch, Couchwood; swing behind the column

SLOWLY, THE CHANGE
Purple,
pink and maroon
foliage, suffused by green,
belie oranges and browns in
the flag
[9. 29. '16]

IT'S NO USE, GREYE
Cat looks
into the house,
'meows' to be let in.
But the owner--me--sits outside,
says, "Wait!"
[9. 29. '16]

FUTURE NEIGHBORHOOD
Before
winter sets in,
crews working overtime
to get the new subdivision
finished.
[9. 23. '16]

A BREATHER
Taking
a break from church,
awaiting the 'hundred
percent chance of rain' on the front
porch swing.
[9. 18. '16]

JEWELS
Raindrops
hang and sparkle
on the vintage corn plant
after last evening's surprising
shower.
[9. 14. '16]

A young Billy on the front porch at Couchwood

PEAR-MOTIF POEMS – AND SAYINGS ABOUT PEARS

Pear harvest of an earlier year,

Couchwood, Saline County AR

From my January Gimcracks (publ. 2003)

 January 30: “drizzly morning/ a lone yellow pear/ in the blackness” –

~~~

 From Dim Sum, 2005/II, p.23

“apple orchard--/could I have/the pear tree” – by Yu Chang

 ~~

From day breaks, Dion O’Donnol, Feb. 20, 2000:

“pear tree/ white explosion on/ the blue day”

~~

 From my unpublished sweetness of the apple

winter solstice ~/ the last piece of pear cake left/ from Thanksgiving

~~

Cutting a pear/ Sweet drops drip/ From the knife

---Shiki Masaoka, from P. Donegan’s Haiku Mind, Shambhala Publ., Boston, 2008, p. XI

~~

“As for my next book, I won’t write it till it has grown heavy in my mind like a ripe pear.”—Virginia Woolf

~~

PL, posted 9.15. '16.

Though it's not yet fall, folks are calling September "autumn" - poems

Couchwood in autumn, PL

DELICIOUS FATIGUE

Falling

into the bed

without nightly reading--

bushed from two days of minding a

toddler.

LEGACY

Out of

fifty tulips

he gave her before he

died, the pink one lasted until

Easter.

OH, NO!

After

company left,

I sat down to relax,

saw a dryer sheet peek from my

pant leg.

HAIKU
while I'm reading

a crisp brown leaf

sails onto my journal
~~
white spaces
in the haiku journal
ideal for my own
~~
at the last minute
the singer changing his song
to "Amazing Grace."

~~

c 2016, PL dba lovepat press. First 3 poems from "September Cinquains," 2003; haiku from "a lamp to work by," 2012

A poem for late summer

Photo by Thurman Couch, Pasadena CA

NOT YET 8 A. M.

I shuck

my sweaty clothes,

work shoes & sox, re-dress,

wash my face & arms & feet to

cool off.

Barely

a month into

my 80th year, I--

every third day, as my gardener

suggests--

water

the fifty new

plantings against summer's

heat. Thirty-seconds of wanded

water

into

the hearts & roots

of each--Knockout roses,

eleagnus, althea, crape

myrtle,

bridal-

wreath spirea,

redbud & yellowbell.

Like an old mule, I schlep the hose

forward.

Hoses--

all three of them--

make a 200-foot

red-and-green stream through the yard when

stretched.

Too tired

to move them back

to the narrow strip of

lawn where they stay, I give myself

a drink. 

c PL 2016

Mid-August poems

Mandevilla, several summers ago

Anna Pearl Couch's birthday is August 19. She has been in heaven for ten years.

in a wobbly hand

her thank-you letters--

83rd birthday

--from Connecting Our Houses, 1997

~~~

~~~

mid-August cold front

bringing the temperature down

to 90 degrees

--from It's August Already? 2003

~~~

back-handing the rose

to dislodge the walking stick--

now, knuckles with thorns

--from only sky and sand, 2005

~~~

getting together

more often for death

than for lunch

--from fishing in the clouds, 2010

~~~

heavy with water

the hanging mandevilla

barely swivels

--from the lighter side of darkness, 2012

Son Eric's beauty spot, several years ago

The sources mentioned (in order) include a flip calendar of haiku and senryu by PL and Dorothy McLaughlin, New Jersey; the others are monthly calendars made and sent to friends during the years they were published.

c 2016, PL dba lovepat press

Yucca - one of the long(er) poems in my new book, Hiding Myself into Safety

Yucca in Winter - PL

Yucca

Granddad must have loved       
yucca, planting it in front
of each house he built, even

the one for himself and Grandy.
Eighty years later, I betake myself
street-side at that ancient house

where—in the past—someone
planted iris, thinking to soften
the unfriendly yucca?

In early August’s coolness, I snip

brown tips of iris blades, yank

yellowed leaves. With gloved

fingers spread like hen’s feet,

I scratch away dead foliage,

 nested oak leaves.

Each old yucca--bottom dead--

I pull over like a naughty child (and there

the simile ends), sever each base.

Did I hear them sigh, as if glad
to be shed of holding upright
the newish green rosettes preening

like teenage girls waving at passing cars?
Several baby plants peek among the iris.
Callously, I yank them up, throw

on the growing pile of detritus
Even so, four passable yucca plants still
center the green and clean bed.

Later, I receive my reward: a tall bloom
stalk that eventually opens to an ivory torch.
Perhaps that’s why Granddad loved yucca.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~


PL c 2016

The Idaho Rambler: poem

THE IDAHO RAMBLER

Poor Maw, she tried to make it look
like dyin' was God's will,
but I had figured God, like Dad,
left, moved up to Boville.

I itched to see Shoshone Caves,
Fort Hall and things beyond.
With jumpin' beans loose in my jeans,
Maw called me Vagabond.

Maw went along with all my schemes,
no nag to settle down;
she'd made that blunder earlier--
thought that's why Dad left town.

But step-dad Gayle, he ranted, said
"Book larnin's your best bet
to git a job, a house, a wife,
and learn to manage debt."

His head is full o'notions
and his pocket's full o' Skoal.

I thumbed my nose and went my way,
found work: packed peat at Mann's.
Got tired and quit, but couldn't lose
the stench on my two hands.

I hitched to Preston after that;
we stopped for beer, buffet.
The trucker, he played snooker, pool.
I met a farmer, Ray,

who needed five good wranglin' hands
for cows he meant to buy.
The pay? Four-hundred every week!
(The luck of my buckeye.)

His head is full o' notions
and his pocket's full o' Skoal.

Picked up some gear, reported in;
his wife gave me the creeps.
She sneered, her eyes bored through. Does she
plan evil while she sleeps?

We found the cattle easily
then hell took paradise;
Ray wrote bad checks to pay for them,
resold at market price.

They'd planned a way to save their hides;
we hadn't looked ahead.
Like my prediction, I died young,
gunned down with slugs of lead.

His pockets may be full of Skoal
but 'is back is full of lead.
~~
Devised from a news article back in the early 2000s. Published in HEROES FROM HACKLAND, Summer, 2003, the late Mike Grogan, Arkadelphia, editor and publisher.
c 2016 PL dba lovepat press



Cardinals, cicadas and crickets: poems

Disregard the snow--or if you're really hot, imagine...

 

a break in the heat

windows open to cicadas

and birdsong

~~

 

hidden

in the Virginia Creeper

a singing wren

~~

 

seeing red:

apple feeder, salvia

and cardinals

~~

 

drone of the traffic

close, but unseen

a cardinal's 'chit-chit-chit'

~~

 

crickets still singing

a yellow leaf falls

on my yellow shirt

~~

 

trip to the feeder

hummingbird stops on in-line

wire: cat, child close by

~~

 

 

Wikipedia image

 

 c 2016 PL dba lovepatpress

 

 







Back to the 90s - found poems from past Julys

Though this photo is from sis Carolyn's garden, the hydrangea plant in my yard dates back to the 60s. Google Images doesn't have anything I want to republish here, so the hydrangea photo has to suffice.

 

 

1996 - Associated Press article

 

month of rains

a boat to the flooded house

to resuc his cat

~~

 

1997 - news of Belarus

 

Independence Day

changed from July 27

to July 3

~~~

 

1997 - news

 

Palestine youngsters--

nothing to do but taunt

Israeli soldiers? 

~~

 

1997 - news photo

 

children playing

on the anti-aircraft gun

in Cambodia

~~

 

1997 - news photo

 

pickup truck with chain

dislodging tractor trailer

from the anwning 

~~

 

1997 - news photo

 

two weeks of rain

leaning over the sandbags

checking the Ober

~~

 

1999 - news photo

 

John-John's funeral

amid the white-clad sailors

the family in black

~~

 

1999 - Paper Trails, Arkansas Democrat-Gazette

 

whipping the young tree

with a rolled-up newspaper

gets the sap flowing

~~

 

1999- Ann Landers

 

the disadvantage

of too many advantages

crippling the children

~~

 

c by Pat Laster dba lovepat press

 

 



It's hot, but not too hot for short poems

Pool party, July 4, 2015

 

The quintain on 'stars' that garnered an HM in the June PRA monthly:

 

TANKA

star-speckled evening

his tears fall as he buries

his pet kitten, Cal,
hit and killed crossing the road
while we were at campmeeting
~~

The following was published in the Fall 2016 issue of Lucidity Poetry Journal~Online:

UNDER THE OAKS
a Dorsimbra

I've had no luck at growing Shasta whites
despite my dedicated TLC.
Though my friend Jenny's reach to soaring heights,
what Jenny's have that mine don't, I can't see.

             Come on, now, I say
             You were Grandma's favorite.
             Why won't you bloom
             for me?

I visit Jenny, notice daisies' home.
The blooms face east with nothing in their way.
Aha! Mine lack the sun! No wonder that
I've had no luck at growing Shasta whites.
~~

photo by C. Hoggard



Flowers of summer: poems

begonias and moss rose
alongside blooming grasses
in the roadside bed
~~

eve of summer~~
I plant marigolds
where the pansies died
~~

bereavement lily~
its orange fallout
blessing me
~~

daytime: inside
an Easter lily's throat
a firefly
~~

a yellow tulip
the fallout of its soot
already sprinkled
     ~~from Saul Bellow
~~

kitten
pawing at the bumblebee
on the abelia
~~

while honeysuckle
blooms, you won't see
hummingbirds: my son
~~
among
sawmill machinery
blackeyed Susans
~~