Archive for April, 2010

Final Poem for NaPoWriMo

afternoon outing
mares grazing in the pasture
calm, peaceful spring day
only bird song interrupts
sitting on the porch
drowsy in the warm sunshine
watching the horses
as they search for sweet young grass

movement in the field
sliver of white dashing by
ethereal form
playing beside the broodmares
shining in the sun
is this a ghost of foals past
or just an easy birthing

Glory's Filly
Mom let the mares out around 3 in the afternoon. When she looked out around 5, there was a baby running around! So just an easy, unassisted birthing. This is filly number 4.

Demon Cat

A friend posted a picture of her cat:
Demon Cat

shadow at your feet
glowing eyes lighting the night
demon cat haunting

NaPoWriMo # 28

ants with wings flying
rising from the rotting wood
exploding spring cloud

Poem in Your Pocket

(from The Academy of American Poets)
Celebrate national Poem In Your Pocket Day on Thursday, April 29, 2010!

The idea is simple: select a poem you love during National Poetry Month then carry it with you to share with co-workers, family, and friends on April 29, 2010.

I offer two. One from the very first book of poetry I ever bought. The second from my current favorite author.

I am an incurable romantic
by Leonard Nimoy

I am an incurable romantic
I believe in hope, dreams and decency

     I believe in love,
     Tenderness and kindness.

I believe in mankind.

     I believe in goodness,
     Mercy and charity
     I believe in a universal spirit

     I believe in casting bread
     Upon the waters.

          I am awed by the snow-capped mountains
          By the vastness of oceans.

               I am moved by a couple
               Of any age – holding hands
               As they walk through city streets.

          A living creature in pain
          Makes me shudder with sorrow
          A seagull’s cry fills me
          With a sense of mystery.

               A river or stream
               Can move me to tears
               A lake nestling in a valley
               Can bring me peace.

I wish for all mankind
The sweet simple joy
That we have found together.

I know that it will be.
And we shall celebrate
We shall taste the wine
And the fruit.

Celebrate the sunset and the sunrise
              the cold and the warmth
              the sounds and the silences
              the voices of the children.

Celebrate the dreams and hopes
Which have filled the souls of
All decent men and women.

              We shall lift our glasses and toast
              With tears of joy.

The Swan
by Mary Oliver

Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air –
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?
Did you hear it, fluting and whistling
A shrill dark music – like the rain pelting the trees – like a waterfall
Knifing down the black ledges?
And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds –
A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet
Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river?
And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?

The grackles have arrived, NaPoWriMo # 27

blue headed grackles
bright iridescence
returning for spring
in time for Beltaine
their courtships begin

The Great Melvin Whitetail

The Great Melvin Whitetail passed away last week. At 19 years old, he had a good long life and he touched tens of thousands of lives (usually by licking the salt sweat off of them). Rest in Peace, Old Man. You are loved always. An acrostic poem, in memory.

Majestic white-tailed buck, without antlers
Everyone’s favorite deer yard mascot
Licking the salt from the children’s faces
Vacuum cleaning the strollers of all crumbs
Inch of tongue always out beyond his nose
Nineteen years old, he touched so many lives

The Great Melvin Whitetail

NaPoWriMo # 25

This is the second poem that I started intending to write a cinquin (5 lines of 2, 4, 6, 8, 2 syllables). Instead, as in another poem I wrote for NaPoWriMo, it ended up being 7 lines of 2, 4, 6, 8, 6, 4, 2 syllables. I don’t know if that has a name, or if I just invented my own form.

a call
text or email
would prevent the worry
stem the emotional ping pong
should I call hospitals
or change the locks
tell me