Sunday, April 29, 2018

April Showers - ala e. e. cummings



april showers
—under the influence of e. e. cummings

Ap
ril gobb
(led)
uP
Mar
chwinds—R
eser(ved)
them untIl all
gull(
ible)eager plan
tl overs tru
ndled them out

Sureen
oughAprilH
itOurparto
f ourW
orldwithw
ind&show
ersEver
yday  un
tilallmo
isturew(as
wRung)fr
omtheair
leav
ingus
Soa
ked--(bu
t)happy.

--c 2018, PL, dba lovepat press, Benton AR USA















Saturday, April 21, 2018

A spring getaway to the Ozarks—eleven years running


                                             Tree still in winter dress this early spring

Last week, in Eureka Springs, a gathering of poets from surrounding states and Arkansas closed out another Lucidity Poetry Retreat held at the Inn of the Ozarks Convention Center. The final meeting was the Awards Banquet ON Thursday evening. In previous years, many of us prolonged our goodbyes at a local cantina, but as far as I know, the practice is kaput.

Poets from as far away as California and New Mexico and as close as Missouri, Texas, Tennessee, Illinois, and Oklahoma traveled this spring not only to renew inspiration and gain new techniques for writing, but also to savor the ambience and fellowship of like-minded folk, as well as that of the unique resort town. New friends will become old friends and old friends will be like family.

From Sunday afternoon until Saturday morning, I lived in 505, the annex at the Writers Colony at Dairy Hollow. That way, I had a full day and a half to work on my own writing before Lucidity consumed the next two days. Friday was my time again as well as Saturday morning. I decided to leave earlier than noon and arrived back home mid-afternoon. By Monday morning, we’d had to remove all furniture from the living room for a ceiling re-do.

Other Arkansans who attended Lucidity were Pat D., Norfork; Fay G., Jonesboro; Erin J., Springdale; Kate L., Fayetteville; John M., Searcy; Pat O., Cherokee Village; and Charles S., Viola.

The poem I come back to for National Poetry Month was written by Faye Boyette Wise, a Saline Countian who says her only claim to fame is being born on the fourth of July. She is too, too modest. Mrs. Wise is to Benton what Kitty Yeager is to Arkadelphia: the unofficial ‘poet laureate’ of the city.

APRIL COUPLETS
--from Faye’s book, BLESSED CONNECTIONS. 

Walking my boundaries is daily delight
With marvels of morning blessing my sight.
Sky in the east is a rosy-mauve hue. 
Johnny Jump Ups tint meadow floor blue.
Lavender petals of apricot blooms
Are silky string-art from angelic looms
Hear the brook babble where small foxes drink
The sing-along-song of a bobolink.
Spider webs woven by spinners of night
Leave shimmery veils to sparkle in light
A breeze lifts my hair and tickles my face
And I laugh aloud for love of this place.
Earth is so lovely it’s simple to see
How much more beautiful heaven must be.
Sudden rain showers surprise April’s calm. 
I catch clear droplets like pearls in my palm.
When God walks his boundaries, world neighborhood
Hope He laughs aloud and still calls it good.

Here is one of mine:

PETIT JEAN IN APRIL (Cameo pattern)
Slender
sapling on mountain
path stretches skyward; at its feet
three pale blue
Phoenix violets rise above
winter’s leafy, brushwoodsy
blanket.

Hasn’t this been a wintry April? Brr! Brr!

             The newest building at the Writers Colony at Dairy Hollow, Eureka Springs


c 2018, PL dba lovepat press, Benton AR USA

Monday, April 16, 2018

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

Thursday, April 5, 2018

WORKING IN THE YARD IN EARLY SPRING




Trusty tools








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